Rosh Hashana, the Jewish New Year, should be a time of celebration with friends, family, and loved ones, right?
This was the first year in my life that I've been away from home during the High Holidays. This time of year is nostalgic for me, and always has been. I landed in France on Wednesday not having any clue as to where I could possibly go for Rosh Hashana on Saturday. Luckily, my sister has a friend who is a Jew from Paris. She was able to forward me a link to a temple in Reims.
Thursday morning, the maintenance man (aka my new best friend) came to bring me some chairs, cutlery, and a new table. After a lovely interaction with my russet headed new best friend, I set out for a walk into Reims city. I had a vague clue of the general direction of downtown, and so I set out on a little walk. I walked for about an hour and eventually the streets became busier and busier. I eventually reached city center and was determined to purchase a cell phone. Why so urgent? Well, 13 of my classmates had already moved to Reims and know the city quite well. Actually, to be honest... in order to get WiFi in my building, you have to have a "mobile" to receive a text message with your WiFi password. So, I clearly had my priorities.
I entered Orange (my phone service provider) and asked for the simplest, cheapest phone. 20 minutes, and 50 Euro later, I left with the same little black phone that the lovely elderly woman at the next counter was buying, a few hours worth of minutes, and a phone number which I still honestly don't remember. Mission: Accomplished. Overwhelmed, I decided that it was time to leave. My stomach was rumbling, and I was now able to actually check the time on my brand new piece of stunning technology as opposed to the educated guesses of my past few days. I found a tiny boulangerie, and then continued the trek back to my room. As I walked, I alternated scarfing down a roasted chicken, lettuce, tomato, and hard-boiled-egg sandwich on fresh baguette with sipping a chilled Orangina.
I returned to my favorite grocery store that I had frequented the night prior to do some actual food shopping. I stocked up on the necessities: baguette, nutella, lettuce, gnocchi, yogurt (they have an entire aisle of yogurt. it's frickin crazy! so many flavors!), la vache qui rit cheese (aka laughing cow cheese) and some other stuff that has little significance to the story (... I can't remember)
That night, as I was lounging in my room, and taking advantage of my newly acquired silverware, there was a knock on my door. I hadn't the slightest clue as to who it could be... I hesitantly unlock the door, and to my surprise was greeted by my friend from Northeastern who also decided to live in the dorms. We talked for a while, and she told me that my other friend Pia had also moved into our building that day. Naturally, I then visited Pia, and the three of us decided to go into the city the next day to open bank accounts.
Friday: The three of us hop on a bus and head downtown. We open up our accounts Pia leaves to meet up with her mother. (Pia's German, so her mom was finally able to move her daughter into school for the first time.) Lam and I ventured off in search of the other Bostonians. We find them in front of a the fountain, as planned, and head to Carrefour.
Let me say something about Carrefour... It's the most ridiculous thing I've ever encountered in my life. It's a "hypermarche" which is like a mega mega MEGA superstore. It puts all of Wal-Mart to shame. It's the largest store I've ever seen/been into.
After a mentally exhausting trip to Carrefour, I come back to my apartment with new linens, towels and a hair dryer. I set up my bed all nice and nice, and check my email.
And then I remember. It's Friday. Not Thursday night... but Friday night... and Rosh Hashanah starts Saturday morning. Because the sabbath starts Friday night, I now had no way of contacting the local Rabbi. I think at that moment, I realized that I really had moved away from home, and had no one and nowhere to go for Rosh Hashanah. I skyped with my dad and best friend, and they both motivated me to just wing it and at least try to go to temple. That night, I find the synagogue's address, Googlemap a walking route, and pick out an outfit that would be appropriate for even an Orthodox service.
Saturday morning I rise bright and early and set out on my predetermined route. As I'm walking, I realize that a lot of the streets don't have any visible signs for me to read. I walk and walk and walk, and eventually encounter a woman who is walking towards me. I ask her if she knows what street we were on. She answers me, and asks if I'm lost. I tell her that I have a map of where to go, but I didn't know where I was at the moment. She asks where I'm headed. I say the street name of the synagogue. She looks at me in surprise and lets me know that I have a long walk ahead of me. I tell her thats fine. She asks what number I need to go to. I let her know, and that I'm looking for the synagogue. She asks: "La synagogue du Saint-Joseph?" I reply, "Non, ce n'est pas cette synagogue." She wishes me luck, and I continue walking, laughing for at least another five minutes. I get to the bridge and cross it, cars zooming below me on the highway. I run across an exit ramp and eventually hit my destination street.
I change out of my sneakers and into some nicer shoes as I see a sign that reads "synagogue." I head nearer and nearer, and soon enough I am standing outside of a very large temple. Something wasn't quite right. Where was everybody? The huge gates that protected the front of the temple were shut. No one was outside. I looked at it in despair. It seemed as though I had just walked 4 miles for nothing. I ask a woman who is walking towards me if the synagogue was still active. Just as she was saying "oui," a man came out wearing a Tallit. yesssss.
He looks at me, almost as if he is surprise. I say, hello, and ask if it is possible to come and to celebrate Rosh Hashanah. He asks if I'm a student, where I'm from, and how long I've been here. We talk for a brief while, and we enter the synagogue. He leads me to a staircase and tells me I can go up there and pray. Great. I personally hate being separated by gender. I feel that its demeaning and submissive to the opposite sex. But- seeing as I'm in the ONLY temple in Reims, beggars can't be choosers.
Once upstairs and looking down at the congregation below me, I realize- woah... there are only 4 women here, one of which is reading a newspaper. OY. Throughout the service, women come and go up and down the loudly creaking wooden stairs. I had no idea where we were at any given point in the service. At around 1 or 2, the service was done, and all the women filed downstairs. I found the bathroom, and once done, went into a small common room where there were many other people. An older man approached me and said, Shana Tovah and Shabbat Shalom. I replied the same back. He then asked if I was new here. I told him my little spiel. He asked where was I eating lunch at. I shrugged and said nowhere. Immediately he said, well, you must eat lunch! You're coming to my family's house. YES!
Turns out this older man is the father of the man (Alan) who let me in the temple earlier that morning. I meet Alans wife and three kids, and we pile into a volvo and start driving. At this point, I haven't the slightest clue as to where I'm going, but I frankly don't even care. We arrive at a very cute house just outside of Reims. I'm ushered in and immediately meet Patricia, Alain's mother, who greets me with a kiss on each cheek. We have a lovely Rosh Hashanah lunch. I tried chicken liver for the first time. Not too bad, I have to say. We ate to our hearts content, and then hung out. The men discussed things, and the women and kids (including myself) talked about music, movies, and hobbies. At around 4, lunch was over and we piled back into the volvo. Fortunately, Alan and Fabienne (his wife) dropped me off at my apartment, and we arranged to rendez-vouz back at the temple for the 6:30 service.
I sit down on my bed for about a half an hour, and then get ready to head to services. I reach the temple at exactly 6:29. Looking just as empty as that morning, I head toward the gate. As soon as my finger touches the handle, a man appears out of nowhere. He's security. He begins to (kindly) interrogate me. Finally, he realizes I'm legit and personally lets me in to the temple. We talk for a while. Curious, I ask him about the safety of the synagogue and if there have been any anti-semetic events in the past. He replies that it's generally pretty calm, but in France- you never know. He introduces me to a few more people, including Steve, a guy that had helped lead services that morning. Turns out that Steve went to the same school that I'm currently attending, and also is studying marketing. He's also Tunisian. I can't say I've ever met a Tunisian Jew. I couldn't tell if it was that I was so tired, but he seemed to talk a million miles per hour. Kindly, he invites me for dinner at his and his new (as of one month) wife's house. Sounds good to me! Then, his wife appears. I had recognized her from services that morning. Joanna is not much older than I, and Moroccan. We hang out for a while, and then services start.
During services, I hear this all too familiar noise.. It sounded like.. like.. like someone was playing ping pong. And indeed, someone was. In the common room was a ping pong table, and the kids and adults could go in and play.
After services, I met up with Fabienne, who I had eaten lunch with earlier that day. She too invited me over for dinner, but I told her about Steve and Joanna. Speaking of Joanna, I couldn't find her. Steve was busy talking with the Rabbi. Fabienne told me Joanna had gone to get dinner ready, but she would walk me to their house. Apparently, "they live right next to the temple." So, Fabienne walks me through the main corridor passing the main sanctuary, and to a door. She opens it, and then we walk through a narrow hallway and get to another door. And voila, I'm there. My new found friends LITERALLY live next to the temple. I didn't even have to walk outside to get there. I was still within the temple gates. It was so bizarre, but amazing.
We eat a delicious sephardic dinner. It was so colorful and delicious, with all different types of contrasting textures and flavors. There was pomegranate seeds with orange flower oil, figs, dates, hummus, vegetables, squash, melon, fried spinach leaves with honey drizzled on top, spicy chicken, and roasted potatoes. The conversation was a bit hard to follow. I thought as some points that I might pass out at the table from sheer exhaustion- but it was great nonetheless. After dinner, we prayed for a bit and I went home.
The next morning, it was almost impossible for me to wake up. I contemplated not going back to temple, but I didn't want to seem like "that American." So, with all of my strength, I literally rolled out of bed, got dressed, and attempted to go back to the synagogue. Here's the thing.. My dorm is completely surrounded by gates that, in order to open, require a magnetic card... which I didn't have. The gates had been open all week, so I didn't think there would be much of a problem. Aaaaaand I was wrong. I walked the entire perimeter of the fence but could find no way to get out. I was in the back parking lot, aimlessly walking around when a security guard who was just about to leave yelled to me, "are you lost?" I walked towards him, explaining that I never received one of those cards, and I was stuck. We talked for a while, and he eventually asked where I was going. I told him about how I needed to go to synagogue. He offered to give me a ride there. Yay! So, I hop in the car with him and we start to drive. I then realize that I have no idea how to actually get there. So we drive for a little bit, and a police car was just about to pass us. The security guard waves the cops over, and asks how to get to the synagogue. The police offer to lead us there. So here I was: An American Jew in Reims getting a ride to temple in a security guards car with a police escort. Fantastic.
I barely can stay awake during services. I'm just about to fall asleep in my seat when all of a sudden, I hear the shofar. The Rabbi played it unbelievably. I never in my life have heard such a passionate shofar service. He seemed to play melodies. It gave me goosebumps, and I felt like I was transported back in time. It was exactly what I imagined the shofar service would sound like thousands of years ago at the original great temples.
Services ended a while later, and everyone seemed to want to talk to me. I was invited to lunch at 4 or 5 different homes. I politely decline all of the generous meal offers because I needed to go to sleep. Fabienne offered to drive me back to my apartment. YES! I got back quickly, plopped on my bed, and fell into a nice little afternoon coma.
And that, my dear friends, was my Rosh Hashanah experience. I unfortunately never got to see la synagogue de Saint Josef (hahaha) but perhaps one day I will.
