Villages and other worlds

My parents insisted on going to this small village just outside the city, and taking advantage of a beautiful day. You can't take those for granted. I'm all for that, but I wouldn't quite waste it on a visit to a village. Unless it's in Italy. Or France.
My mother doesn't take NO for an answer. So, out we go. The plan was to visit a monastery and then have lunch. This village is famous for good food.Good food in Serbia means good meat. And a lot of it. For me it means good kajmak,home-made bread and sopska salad.Yummy!
The monastery turned out to be probably the smallest one in history. One small church, and closed too. The priests were having lunch in a fixer-upper, up the hill. They pointed us to, what it seemed to be, an old brick construction, which has a small door on the side of the road. It is an old, old church. It's quite charming.Tiny, but very peacful and genuine. Old icons stairing back at us.
We lit the candles, for the living and the dead, and went on our way.
I haven't changed that much since I was a kid, in certain ways.I never liked villages, nor suburbs. I still don't.I find them boring.I can go, but I really need to be motivated,and not stay there for more than three hours. That's my wall. I hit it, regularly. Unless, again, they are in Spain.