Written: Day 20 + 3, Friday, April 21, 2006  10:35 AM   Davis, California, U.S.A. 


	Thursday morning we took a tour of Jewish Buenos Aires. Argentina has the 
largest Jewish population in South America, due partly to a rich European baron who set 
up a Jewish colony there and partly to relatively welcoming immigration policies. The 
country needed immigrants to populate the wide open spaces of Argentina, and they had 
largely eliminated the native population by means of their genocidal policies. Enter the 
Jews. The original idea was that the colony, located deep in the interior, would be 
agricultural. But the Jews, largely prohibited from being farmers in Europe, had no 
experience with agriculture. The colony mostly failed, and the Jews moved to the cities 
instead to practice their traditional city-based occupations. There were once about half a 
million Jewish people in Argentina, but due to a few terrorist attacks and emigration to 
Israel and other places, the population is now closer to  250,000, perhaps less depending 
on how you do the numbers. Interestingly given that Argentina was a Spanish colony, 
most of the Jews here are Ashkenazi, or of western European (excluding Spain) descent.  
A minority are Sephardic, or of Spanish descent. The two traditions developed in parallel 
and have some differences in Jewish observance.

	Our guide, Salito, greeted Lenny and me at our hotel dressed impeccably in a suit. 
We immediately felt underdressed in out customary jeans and t-shirts. Our first stop was 
a memorial on the site of the former Israeli embassy. The embassy had been blown up by 
terrorists, killing many people. The memorial on the site lists each victim by name, and 
has one tree for each of them. The trees produce leaves that are used as a calmative. It is a 
subtle call for restraint and calm among the people of the city.

	We next visited a memorial to the victims of another suicide bombing attack, this 
time on the Jewish Federation building. I was beginning to think that the history of the 
Jews in Buenos Aires would be one long tale of bombings and destruction. Almost all of 
the Jewish buildings in the city have now taken steps to thwart future attacks. They have 
bollard barriers on their sides that face the street, and some buildings are set back away 
from the road. Our guide commented that these precautions identified Jewish buildings 
just as effectively as placing the Star of David on their doors.

	Next we moved on to the Jewish district, known as Once (pronounced ON-se), 
and the synagogues. Most of the people on the street were not Jewish, but we also saw 
many men walk by in traditional Jewish dress or wearing yarmulkes. Most of the 
businesses were closed since it was the first day of Passover. We first visited the 
Ashkenazi synagogue. The building has two stories: the main seating area facing the front 
where the bima, the podium where the rabbi stands, and the cabinet holding the torah 
scrolls are located, and the balcony where the women traditionally sit separated from the 
men. It is a beautiful building. Salito, our guide, said that he was bar mitzvahed there. 

	Next, the three of us moved on to the very different Sephardic synagogue. As we 
entered, the service was just letting out, and there were people everywhere milling around 
the courtyard. We walked into the sanctuary and immediately noticed several differences 
from the synagogue we had just visited. We saw that the bima was in the center of the 
room, not at the end. Also, the stained glass had representations of people, something that 
is not done in Ashkenazi synagogues. The stained glass on the door showed a depiction 
of Jacob’s dream. It looked more like the decoration for a church than a synagogue!

	After the tour was over, Lenny and I had several hours before our Passover seder 
that evening. We had arranged to attend a seder, the ritual meal that commemorates the 
Jewish people’s escape from slavery in Egypt, at the home of the local Chabad rabbi, 
Rabbi Hirshel Hendel. We had arranged to attend the seder through Jewish Tours. Our 
original request was to attend a seder in English, but we were told that would be quite 
difficult. A few days later, however, they emailed back to say that they had found a rabbi 
from New York who spoke English, and that we could attend the seder at his home. 

	After the tour, however, Lenny and I immediately realized that we had a problem. 
We wanted to bring a bottle of kosher wine to the rabbi as a thank you gift, but all the 
Jewish stores that stocked the specialty wine were closed for the holiday. We tried a few 
regular wine shops, but were met with blank stares when we asked for the kosher wine. In 
desperation, Lenny knocked at the door of a local synagogue, intent on asking them for 
help or advice as to how we could get the wine. When Lenny said he was Jewish, the man 
who answered the door said, "Then you should know we are closed on Passover! Why 
are you knocking on my door?". After Lenny explained the situation, the man said to try 
the shops in Once, which we knew to be closed. In the end, we called back Salito, and he 
arranged to sell us a bottle from his own stock. The wine arrived an hour or so later by 
taxi. We were saved! 

	Back at our disappointing hotel, Lenny and I prepared for our evening. My shirt 
and pants were quite wrinkled from being stored in the bottom of my luggage since the 
trip began. Lenny had to buy a shirt and tie in town, and these also needed ironing. The 
hotel helpfully provided the iron, but Lenny had to show me how to use it!

	We arrived at the Chabad House on time at 7:00, and found the door guarded by a 
formidable looking man. We were asked for our passports and the paper Salito had given 
us with the address. Then we were admitted. The community here is quite cautious of 
outsiders after the various attacks. We had to get emails vouching for our character from 
our rabbis at home before we were allowed to enter any of the synagogues in the city. 	

	Upstairs, we were greeted by Rabbi Hendel, who is originally from New York. He 
is a young man, perhaps in his thirties, and he was wearing the traditional orthodox 
Jewish attire.  He had on a black hat, a long black jacket and black pants. Some of the 
small group of people assembled there were similarly dressed, but others were wearing 
regular jackets and ties. The rabbi greeted us and said that he had been waiting for us. We 
were taken to the small sanctuary - really no more than a room with a few Jewish items 
and a few rows of chairs. Behind us was a screen. There were maybe ten men - all men - 
in the room, including us. The rabbi began the evening prayer service. In the Chabad 
tradition, people mostly do their own thing instead of following the leader of the service. 
The rabbi gave us English and Hebrew prayer books, and periodically told us what page 
they were on so that we could participate. Between prayer sessions, he came by to talk 
with us and to get our life stories. We were joined by a young Australian man, Lance, 
who, along with his wife, were the only other English speakers present. When the service 
was over, I noticed for the first time that there were a number of women behind the 
screen. In the orthodox tradition, men and women are not allowed to pray together in the 
synagogue. After a few minutes of chatting, the group left the Chabad House and walked 
over to the rabbi’s house for the seder. It was the first time that I had attended an 
Orthodox service in my life. I felt somewhat out of place.

 	As we entered the rabbi’s house, I saw that he had a long table that stretched 
between the two main public rooms of his house. It seated maybe forty people. The seder 
was in most ways similar to the ones I was used to, but there were a few differences. 
Potatoes were used in place of the celery, and there was no matzo ball soup because the 
Chabad do not believe in mixing matzo and regular food. This extra constraint eliminated 
many of the workaround that make the bread- free Passover week tolerable! No matzo 
meal cakes! No matzo balls! It would make the whole week so much harder!

	Thankfully, Rabbi Hendel  translated the seder readings into English for us. The 
Passover Haggadah, the special book that is used to tell the story of the Exodus at seders, 
was only in Spanish and Hebrew, so it would have been hard to follow the proceedings 
otherwise. Each person read from the haggadah in turn, either in Hebrew or Spanish. 
When my turn came, I struggled through the Spanish, not that I actually understood what 
I was saying. It was a very enjoyable service. Although I was probably the one who was 
the least observant in the group, the rabbi never made me feel like I did not belong. I was 
glad that I had made the effort to attend. And our hard-gotten wine was a hit as well.