The world (or at least Belgrade) is small

I am becoming friends with MK, someone who contacted me after a work-related google led her to this blog. We have a ridiculous number of things in common. We are the same age, are from the same region of the US, both started college in Boston, both work in the NGO sector, and are charming, intelligent, beautiful and modest.

On Sunday, I joined her and a friend for a drink. MK explained how we met and I—, her friend, told me that she reads my blog. And she remembers what I have written. At points in the conversation, she would say things like, “yeah, so your brother was in Greece last year…” Slightly disconcerting that she would know such things, that anyone who doesn’t know me would pay attention to my ramblings, but also flattering.

At one point, I started telling a story about a guy she met a few days previously at a party. He’s Japanese, studying Yugoslav history at the university.

Doubting the existence of two Japanese Yugoslav history scholars in this town, I interrupted. “What’s his name? I think I know him.”

“It starts with a K, I think,” said I—.

“K—?” I asked.

“That’s it,” she answered.

“Wait,” MK joined in. “Does he wear glasses? I think I met him at a club.”

I’ve heard people describe Belgrade as a really big village. With happenings like these, I am starting to believe them.