Travel – Page 2 – Planting Roots Bearing Fruits

Jewish Vienna

Vienna packs in more Jewish culture, diversity, and vibrancy for a city of its size than anywhere I’ve ever visited. In just one week, I met an American-Israeli looking for a fresh start during wartime, a Hungarian-Austrian rediscovering his Jewish roots, a German Yiddish activist, a Haredi man and son of Holocaust survivors, an Austrian Yiddish poet, two Italian non-Jews exploring conversion, and an Argentinian Jewish immigrant. And there are only 8,000 Jews here! Less than in the suburb of D.C. I grew up in, but bursting with energy from all over the globe!

Read to the end of this blog. Because there’s a pretty amazing surprise towards the end.

Let’s start at the very beginning, a very good place to start. OK, I’ll save any further Sound of Music references for my blog on Salzburg, but I couldn’t resist!

Philip is a Yiddishist – an activist speaking, reading, writing, studying, and promoting the Yiddish language. He is originally from Germany but has studied the language all over the globe and actually knew Yiddish speakers who I’m friends with back in the States. It really is a small Jewish world!

He was kind enough to take me on a walk through Leopoldstadt, the former principal Jewish Quarter of Vienna. Vienna used to have a massive 180,000+ person Jewish community before the Holocaust. To say its influence on the society was significant is a deep understatement. Musicians, psychologists, writers, composers, the list goes on and on. It includes world-renowned people like Sigmund Freud. And if you look at this list, not a small number of Adlers!

While in Leopoldstadt, Philip and I stopped at a Hasidic bakery for a quick sugar fix. Vienna is known for its sweets, such as its famous Sachertorte cake! The top left sweets are from the bakery and the rest from elsewhere, but I think it’s fair for Austria to show off a bit!

After leaving the bakery, we came across a Jewish man in a black hat. I greeted him in Yiddish and said I was a Jewish writer from the U.S. He immediately shook my hand and invited me and Philip to see his synagogue! It’s actually kind of two synagogues – one downstairs that was Hasidic and one upstairs that was Haredi (ultra-orthodox) but maybe not Hasidic. The historic building was called the Schiffschul, which you can read more about here.

After giving us a tour, he pointed us to the back of the synagogue. That’s where they’re building an addition to the synagogue including mikvahs (ritual baths) and more room for prayer. Nothing makes me happier. Despite our ideological differences, Hasidic and Haredi Jews are my brethren and to see Jewish life *growing* in a place where it was on life support after the Holocaust, was incredible. I’m proud of this community and wish it much success as it continues to grow and preserve so many Jewish traditions.

Here are some pictures from inside the Hasidic (downstairs) and Haredi (upstairs) of the synagogue:

You’ll notice, besides the very beautiful interior and loads of Jewish books (nothing excites me more!), the gold plaque outside the synagogue. It commemorates the Jews sent to their murders in the concentration camps from this synagogue. The Holocaust is *never* more than one step away from the present here, where less than 3% of the original community returned to live after the Holocaust, the rest dead or in other countries.

Before we left, the man, named Yosef, asked us for a blessing for his ailing wife. Philip offered a beautiful Yiddish blessing for her health and we all parted ways – three very different people on paper, but all tied together by one beautiful yerushe, or “heritage”.

Philip was incredibly kind not only to show me around town, but also to connect me with Thomas Soxberger, a Yiddish poet and Jewish historian. You can read more about his background and poetry here. If you want to learn more about Jewish history in Vienna, he has also written the book “Gründen wir einen jiddischen Verlag!” or “Let’s start a Yiddish publishing house!” Philip also connected me with the Yung Yidish Vienna library + cultural organization, which unfortunately I couldn’t visit since I wasn’t feeling well. However, I know their sister organization in Tel Aviv very well and highly recommend all fans of Yiddish to check out their Vienna location!

I also had the opportunity to visit the Jewish Museum Vienna and see some incredible Jewish artifacts – on Israeli Independence Day of all days. It was appropriate – the founder of modern Zionism, Theodore Herzl, lived in Vienna! The artifacts were from all over the Austrian Empire, including places whose Jewish communities I knew almost nothing about – like Bosnia!

The visit to the museum was one of the few times in Europe I have felt safe as a Jew. Jewish institutions are guarded by security – including Austrian police. And while it’s sad that that’s necessary, it made me feel more at ease than in some other places where the governments either fail to support local Jewish communities or actively create anti-Israel rhetoric in society. In Austria, I don’t know the politics well, but I definitely felt more protected.

Here are some pictures from the museum, then we’ll return to the stories of the incredible people I met:

After days of touring both Jewish and non-Jewish places (here, to be honest, the cultures are so historically intertwined that it’s hard to really distinguish between the two!), I decided to rest and go to Shabbat services at Ohr Chadasch, a Reform congregation in Vienna.

Longtime readers of this blog know that I have struggled with my Jewish identity in the past several years, as both of my parents died from cancer about two years ago. Such a shock to my system made me question a lot of things, especially God and Judaism, things that had been so central to my life.

So I was excited but also a bit nervous about going to service at Ohr Chadasch. Every prayer reminds me of my mom, who used to go to synagogue with me. Would I start crying in services?

What was magnificent to see is that my grief is evolving. I enjoyed the hell out of services. Ohr Chadasch, much like Ohel Jakob (the progressive synagogue in Lisbon), sings and sings loudly! Whereas I couldn’t have handled this even a year ago, now it brings me joy again. My Judaism was on life support and now it is supporting my life.

The people of Ohr Chadasch are who really bring it to life. There’s Natan, the friendly American-Israeli-Austrian building a new life in Vienna and immediately offered me a seat when I looked for one. There’s another man, whose Hungarian Jewish heritage was obscured by his family’s struggle with their identity after the Holocaust, but who now is reconnecting with his roots. There’s the man who was leading services while the rabbi was out of town – who is a Jew by Choice.

After services one night, Natan helped round up a group of people and we all went out to eat Asian food (how Jewish of us!). It was such a fabulous evening. Italian non-Jewish polyglots curious to explore what community means to them – and if Judaism might be a spiritual home for them. Several other community members of diverse backgrounds. And me and Natan – two American-Israelis.

It was a mix of languages, cultures, Judaisms (or potential Judaisms!). It’s just how I like to spent my Shabbats. Thank you to all these new friends and the Ohr Chadasch community for welcoming me with open arms and making my visit so special.

Speaking of special people, the second Friday night service I went to in Vienna at Ohr Chadasch, a different man offered me a seat. His name was Augusto. Augusto is an Argentinian Jew, a PhD in Philosophy, a former resident of Italy, and most importantly, a total mentsch (good guy!).

After connecting over our shared love of Spanish and Judaism, we decided to grab coffee a couple days later. For most Americans, coffee is maybe a 45 minute to an hour experience. But coffee in Vienna, and especially with a friendly Argentinian, is a six hour experience. Not only coffee and delicious pastries and lovely conversation, but also a whirlwind tour around the city. We visited the Cathedral, the Holocaust Memorial (which to the city’s great shame is almost hidden in a neighborhood tourists never visit), countless gorgeous buildings, and the MuseumsQuartier. He shared Jewish history with me along the way. The city is stunning and we’ve had influence everywhere. Even the beautiful Karlskirche which I loved was financed with money expropriated from Jews!

The history here is complicated and not always friendly to the Jews, who nonetheless contributed to it and with it extensively.

Just to show you how pretty a city this is, here are some photos of things Augusto and I saw together – and some places I went on my own:

Not only did Augusto and his wonderful wife Sabrina show me so many sights around the city, they did it with great kindness and warmth. I didn’t feel like a visitor. I like I belonged.

I felt like I belonged because they made me feel happy, they made me feel loved. And on a difficult day – Mother’s Day. I know my mom was smiling looking down at me making new friends on my journeys. To travel solo is not to travel alone!

There’s another reason I think I felt I belonged. This is the surprise. As I sat down to write this blog, I remembered a genealogy project I did for Hebrew school at my synagogue growing up. I listed where all my ancestors were from. And I’ve done a good bit of genealogical research since then. I know I’m Jewish – from Lithuania and Ukraine on my mom’s side. And on my father’s side, part Romanian and Hungarian. I had the strangest flashback though to the poster with my Hebrew school genealogy project. It said Vienna, Austria.

And that’s because my great-grandfather Max Grossman, a Yiddish speaker, was born to two Austrian parents. He may have even been born in Austria – it’s not clear. It is he who was on my school poster and I verified it on my family tree. For people who don’t believe in spiritual energy – I’m sorry but this is too clear to be anything other than beshert. “Meant to be”. Min hashamayyim. From the Heavens.

I love Vienna. It has a horrific antisemitic history and also a lot of amazing intercultural cooperation and glory. And it has what has to be one of the most resilient Jewish communities in the world. That’s one of the places I draw my resilience from. It’s quite literally in my blood and I had no idea the whole time I was there.

Vienna- I’ll be back!

Sicily and Malta: echoes of Israel

Sicily and Malta are two of the most beautiful places I’ve ever visited. The Mediterranean islands have a lot in common. They’ve been conquered by many civilizations, including the Greeks, the Romans, the Arabs, and countless others.

Each civilization has left its mark on the islands’ history. In Sicily, there are Roman mosaics, Greek theaters, Greek temples, Baroque churches, Arabesque cathedrals, even Middle Eastern-inspired food that is quite different from what you might encounter in northern Italy. I did a street food tour and enjoyed every last bite.

Even the markets in Sicily look almost identical to Israel or any Middle Eastern country. With loud shouting and free samples!

Malta is even more Middle Eastern than Sicily! I speak Arabic and when I wanted to catch a cab from the airport to my hotel, I heard a driver talking to another driver. I understood almost every word. I hopped in the cab and asked the driver if he was speaking Arabic or Maltese, the local language. He said Maltese! I was stunned. This man’s speech sounded so familiar to me that it almost sounded like a Tunisian immigrant to Malta speaking Arabic.

The architecture in Malta, in particular, is very reminiscent of what you’d find in Israel in places like Akko and Jerusalem.

The nature in both countries is stunning. Malta’s blue lagoons and cliffs. Sicily’s incredible countryside, full of green hills, yellow flowers, lemon trees, and of course views of Mt. Etna (which erupted while I was on a bus!).

The Maltese and Sicilian people were incredibly friendly, especially in Malta. Both countries drive like maniacs but the people – the people were the superstars. They were so open. They were so willing to unabashedly share their stories, their lives, their problems with their spouses, their hopes, their dreams, their politics – it felt like being back in Israel but in a place that hasn’t known war in a very long time.

I have a lot to say about my experience in these two incredible countries. The sights to see are countless. The vibes are fabulous. The food delicious.

I couldn’t help but think that maybe one day, when Israel is given a chance to breathe, and when its neighbors accept its existence and all choose the path of peace, that it can be a destination as tranquil as Sicily and Malta. That have lived through ages of conquest and rich cultural heritage. But have come out on the other side stronger yet still welcoming. Whole.

May you have the great privilege that I did to visit these stunning countries. And may my friends in the Middle East one day know the peace of Malta and the peace of Sicily.

Libi bamizrach. My heart is in the east. Soon enough it won’t be enough for me to see buildings that remind me of Akko and Jerusalem. It’ll be time for me to visit the only place where I’m not a tourist. Where I don’t have to look longingly at beautiful architecture and be the “other”. The only place I can truly call my own.

Malta is home to an Inquisitor’s Palace and Sicily, once home to a bustling Jewish community, wiped it out during that very same Inquisition. These places, like many that I’ve visited, are or have been home to incredible Jewish communities. And I honor their resilience over the years.

And I wish for nothing more than for us to no longer need to be resilient. For us to be as tranquil as the Sicilian countryside or the lagoons of Malta. Because we’ve earned it.

Ken yehi ratzon. May it be God’s will.

Jewish, Christian, and Islamic Córdoba

Spain has an incredibly long history of co-existence (and discord) between Jews, Muslims, and Christians. Few cities offer a more beautiful way of seeing this interaction than Córdoba.

I started my visit off in the Mosque-Cathedral. Yes, it is a mosque and a cathedral, although actively only a cathedral these days. Built originally as a basilica by the Visigoths in the 6^th century, it was destroyed and then built as a mosque by Muslim conquerors in the 7^th century and then dedicated as a cathedral in 1146. You can see a timeline of the Mosque-Cathedral’s construction here.

The back-and-forth conquest of the area by Muslims and Christians left its mark on the Mosque-Cathedral. There are clearly Islamic archways throughout the 23,400 square meter building (that’s about 250,000 square feet!). There’s even a beautifully restored mihrab, which showed Muslim worshippers the direction of Mecca for prayer.

And then smack dab in the middle of the enormous mosque complex, there’s a cathedral! And from the middle of the cathedral you can still see the Islamic archways that dot the entire campus. It’s like one civilization couldn’t escape the other.

If you have the chance to go to Córdoba, this building is an absolute marvel and alongside the Alhambra, one of the most impressive pieces of architecture I’ve seen in Spain – indeed, perhaps all of Europe.

After my tour of the Mosque-Cathedral and eating some delicious gelato, I decided to explore the Judería, or Jewish quarter, of Córdoba. Because Jews also called this place home for many centuries, including the famous Maimonides who was born in Córdoba in 1135.

In the Jewish quarter, there is one of three remaining well-preserved medieval synagogues in Spain. It was built in 1314 and has beautiful Moorish-style architecture and you can still clearly see the Hebrew engraving on the walls. You can learn more about its history here.

The Hebrew on the walls particularly caught my attention and spiritual energy. The fact that I could read some of it really moved me. Jewish history is so often erased. Our connection to our ancestral homeland of Israel, where Hebrew comes from, is so often denied. Yet here in Spain, many miles from our home, there stood a synagogue, over 700 years old, with engravings in the same language I pray in. The same language I use to write to my Israeli friends on WhatsApp. Jewish history is real and the chain of our existence is unbroken by the conquerors of the day. I’m grateful to Spanish activists like Red de Juderías de España who have preserved Jewish heritage for us to enjoy despite all the pain our people have endured in this country.

I also stopped by Casa de Sefarad, a Jewish history museum housed in a 14^th century Jewish home with a lovely and friendly woman at the front desk who was very proud of the city’s connection to Maimonides. It’s a beautiful museum and worth a visit.

From the Jewish quarter, I decided to go a little outside Córdoba to Islamic ruins known as Medina Azahara. These ruins date from the mid-10^th century and are absolutely stunning. This former city is now an archeological park and is set in a gorgeous rural area just a 15-minute drive outside of Córdoba. If you have the chance, you must go. You can still see archways and columns and elaborate Islamic architecture. And far fewer crowds than the center of Córdoba.

It’s a place where you can really meditate on the meaning of these three cultures – Jewish, Islamic, and Christian – which have been, and in some cases continue to be, living in contention with each other. But also influencing each other and at times even co-existing. Whether it’s the Islamic arches in a Catholic cathedral, the Moorish décor surrounding Hebrew in a synagogue, or the Jewish scholars like Maimonides who crafted wisdom while living amongst these civilizations- one thing is clear. We are interdependent. And nothing, perhaps nowhere, shows that better than Córdoba. So grab a salmorejo (feel free to hold the pork!) and enjoy this marvelous city of three cultures.

How Portugal breathed life into my Judaism

I don’t know what I think about God. For those of you who know me well, you know I lost two parents to cancer within five months of each other two years ago. Beforehand, I had a rich Jewish spiritual life to the point of almost becoming a rabbi. I was actually accepted into rabbinical school at the time. The shock of the losses was too great for me to absorb and still believe wholeheartedly in an all-knowing, all-powerful being. Because where was it when I needed it most?

After losing my parents, I decided to travel and travel a lot. One of the first places I went to was Portugal. I speak Portuguese and was curious to see more of the world. I traveled first and foremost for my self – my exploration and my healing. And also because one of my mom’s regrets in her final days was that she wished she had seen more of the world.

My previous trip to Portugal was fabulous, but I still wasn’t in a state of mind where I wanted to “touch” my Judaism much. I did buy some books about Portuguese Jewish history in Portuguese – which have been super interesting to read. And Jewish history has remained a tie that has kept me feeling Jewish even when the religious dimension was evolving.

This trip to Lisbon, I decided to do something different. Feeling a bit lonely on the first Friday of my month-long solo trip which I did this February across the Mediterranean, I decided to do something I hadn’t done in several years: go to Shabbat services. It’s something I did growing up almost every week but had been absent from my life as I coped with loss.

Ohel Jacob is the progressive synagogue in Lisbon. Founded by Ashkenazi pogrom victims later joined by Holocaust refugees, it is now a largely Portuguese community. It includes many descendants of conversos who were forced to convert to Catholicism by the Inquisition and who have since returned to Judaism. Which is utterly inspiring.

I chatted with members of the congregation who made me feel at home. I even met a group of young people (and queer Jews!) who showed real dedication to their spiritual lives and to their community. And just seemed like a fun group of people!

I sat down and got nervous as the prayers began to be sung. Some prayers I was fine saying. Other times I struggled to say “Adonai” (“my Lord”). If I believe in a spiritual force, I’m not sure I believe in it lording above me.

Then, we got to the end of the service and the most incredible and moving thing happened.

First, let’s rewind a bit.

During my previous trip to Portugal, I went to Coimbra, a beautiful college town. In one of the town squares, a group of college students asked for volunteers to be serenaded. A bunch of women stepped forward and I raised my hand too, not sure what was about to happen but excited to experience Portuguese Fado music up close!

It turns out the song they were about to sing was aboutserenading a woman (hence me being the only man in the group, but who cares, I rolled with it). It’s the most beautiful tune. It’s called Menina estás à janela (“Girl you are at the window”).

As the students sang, a foreign tourist next to me started crying. I don’t think she understood the words, but it was just so moving that she couldn’t control her tears. And then I started thinking about my mom and I can’t explain it in rational words but I could feel her spirit guiding me.

Ever since, I’ve quietly and privately associated the song with my mom. And I get emotional every time I hear it, like just now when I played it and started crying.

So, fast-forward to the end of the service at Ohel Jacob. We get to end of the service and it’s time for the prayer “Adon Olam”. It follows a metric that allows many tunes to be used to sing it. Growing up, Cantor Sue Roemer, of blessed memory, would use many secular melodies – even patriotic ones on the Shabbat of the Fourth of July!

But instead of using a traditional melody, Ohel Jakob that night decided to use “Menina estás à janela” to sing it. It took every fiber of my being not to start bawling in the middle of the synagogue. But I did allow myself to feel what the Portuguese call “saudade”, loosely translated as “longing”. Longing for my mom, someone who loved me very much and who would’ve been thrilled to see me praying with a Jewish community in a foreign land – something she knew I lived for.

My mom would often look for signs. I often somewhat dismissed it as superstition. For example, she would follow cars that had my grandmother’s initials on the license plate for a few minutes. Just to see where they were going. That it was a sign of my grandmother’s presence even after she had passed away.

I don’t know what to make of the fact that this beautiful Jewish community chose a song I deeply associate with my mom for Adon Olam at the first Shabbat service I’ve attended in years. Is it a sign that my mom was with me that night in spirit? Perhaps. I think so. Is it a coincidence? Who knows, but it was such a beautiful moment that it almost doesn’t matter if it was just chance.

All I know for sure is that it is a sign that her love lives on in me. And in my love for others and their love for me. In community. In relationships. In feeling part of something great.

Ohel Jacob community (the folks on the cover photo of this blog) – you have no idea what that night meant to me. Although now that you’ve read this blog, hopefully you do.

Keep doing all the beautiful things you’re doing to revive Judaism in Portugal. And who knows, maybe you breathed a little life into the Judaism of an unsuspecting American who walked in your doors, um menino à sinagoga por primera vez em muitos anos. I have a feeling I’ll be back soon.

The Emerald Isle and the United Kingdom

I was originally supposed to visit Ireland and Wales, but I ended up getting to see England and Northern Ireland as well! While my stereotype of northern Europe is frigid, distant people, I was pleasantly surprised by how warm and welcoming the people I met were.

I started my trip in Ireland. Dublin is great as a home base for exploring other parts of the country, but is kind of overrun with tourists (even during off season) and is not the most beautiful of cities. Even the Irish people I met in Ireland were the first to admit Dublin was not the crown jewel of the country.

That being said, if you go just a half hour outside of the capital city, you’ll find lush green countryside and adorable seaside villages. I spent a day in Malahide (where there’s a castle that had been owned by a gay Earl!) and Howth. The tour of Malahide Castle was lovely and the guide was full of interesting information. A small tour group – just me and a couple of Irish tourists from near Cork – we bantered and had a great time together. Then I wanted to go to Howth. I had wanted to see the views from the top of the cliffs or from a boat ride I was supposed to take but got cancelled due to the weather. But neither panned out.

My cab driver from Malahide to Howth was an elderly gentleman and was extremely friendly. He offered to take me to the top of a mountain overlooking the sea for some photographs. He kept apologizing since it would cost a few extra Euros – he was extremely polite – but the views were worth every penny. He then took me into the village to drop me off at the restaurant where I ate, but not before I got a chance to walk the pier towards the ocean and hear the rushing waves and see gorgeous views of the cliffs above.

One thing that I did really enjoy in Dublin was the Irish Jewish Museum. This gem, just two rooms in a small row house that I believe used to be a synagogue, is not so much in its artifacts (although there were some really cool ones, including a Yiddish theater poster for a production in Dublin!). It is in the volunteer tour guides who explain the artifacts to you. For free. For two hours! Irish people and Jews love to talk, so when you meet an Irish Jew, prepare for long, engaging, and free flowing stories.

I learned so much – about the relationship between Jews and Catholics (the latter having a long and storied history of anti-Semitism that continues to this day but is NOT universal), about the Lithuanian ancestry of most Dublin Jews (I am part Litvak so this was cool!), and about the ways in which Jews played a pivotal role in the development of modern Ireland. Far beyond their small numbers.

Given the modern-day anti-Semitism emanating from the Irish government, it gave me hope to hear that the museum offers tours to Irish schools to learn more about Jewish culture and civilization in their own country. I can’t recommend a visit to this museum highly enough – it may be small but it is worth every minute you spend here.

Having spent a couple days in the Dublin area, it was time to get out to the countryside. One thing few people know about me is that I LOVE rural areas. Although I grew up in the suburbs of Washington, D.C. and live in that city now, I cherish green space, animals, and fresh air.

I did an organized day trip to Glendalough, the Wicklow Mountains, and Kilkenny. Glendalough is the site of a 6^th century montastic settlement and cemetery, which are absolutely stunning. The nearby lakes and mountains form a spectacular backdrop for an Ireland few see. I even met some nice fellow travelers in my group, which made it more fun to explore and experience the country together.

Near Glendalough we also visited a sheep farm and learned the tricks of the trade from the Irish shepherd and his adorable sheep dog, who moved the sheep along in various patterns and formations. The highlight of this experience, without a doubt, was getting to hold a baby lamb in my arms. Needless to say, I will NOT be eating lamb anymore. When I held that lamb, my heart was full. These animals are just too cute!

Kilkenny, our last stop on the trip, is a beautiful medieval town, a 1500-year-old city. There, I saw a castle and a beautiful church. I also got a Kilkenny Gaelic Football jersey. It’s a sport I knew nothing about before this trip, but was founded in Ireland, and I look forward to learning more about now that I’m back.

Having had a great few days in Ireland, I headed back to Dublin to get ready to visit Wales, my other destination. My plan was to travel via ferry to Holyhead, but I got a notification that the ferry wouldn’t be running that morning. Apparently the Holyhead port had been damaged in a storm. Trips are never perfect and this would require some problem solving, as North Wales doesn’t have an airport.

I decided to fly into Manchester and then head to Chester, a city dating back to Roman times on the border of England and Wales. I spent a night there and then headed towards Caernarfon, Wales, where I’d be staying for a few days. Chester was beautiful both by day and by night (and had surprisingly good sushi!). The streets are lined with quaint shops and cafes and the cathedral is absolutely stunning. It was my first time in England and it didn’t disappoint.

From Chester, I headed to North Wales. There, I visited Caernarfon, Llanberis, Betys-a-Coed, Pen-y-Pass, and Conwy. It is a land dotted with castles and mountains. The people are incredibly friendly. While the people, if I had to generalize, were a bit more distant in Chester, just across the border in Wales, people had a similar warmth and talkativity to the Irish.

The towns are also largely Welsh speaking. And people are proud of their language and culture. After all, theirs is the most widely-spoken Celtic language in the world. A surprising number of Irish people did tell me they spoke Irish, contrary to the popular belief that nobody speaks it in Ireland anymore. That being said, Welsh is dominant in North Wales in a way the local language is not in Ireland and is not even in South Wales. I had taken a few lessons and the people were appreciative of my efforts to speak the language, with one woman even giving me a pin that indicated I spoke Welsh! I even said “thank you very much” in Welsh to one shopkeeper and she stood silently. I asked her coworker if I had said it right and she said “yes, she’s just in shock that you said it in Welsh!”

I did some hiking in Wales too on Mount Snowdon and its environs. The scenery is stunning and I managed to walk a bit at a pretty significant altitude despite my fear of heights. I was very proud of myself and I would like to make even more progress on this front so I can enjoy more and more of what nature has to offer.

While hiking, I even got to meet a lovely man named Stefan who runs a little traveler’s café near Llanberis. We talked in his café for an hour or two over a pot of tea and bara brith, the traditional sweet raisin bread. Turns out, Stefan is also gay and his partner and dog live with him up on the top of the mountain. He told me that he feels well accepted in the villages and rural areas. Just goes to show that we are truly everywhere, even in rural Wales!

Wales also has stunning castles dating back to the English campaigns to subdue their culture, language, and way of life. The castles are stunning – and the Welsh are still here! One cab driver, who was kind enough to give me his rundown of Welsh history, played a folk song for me that has become popular at sporting events – “Yma o Hyd”. It means “we are still here”. Seeing the castles and the vibrant Welsh culture – its language on every street sign and on the lips of hundreds of thousands of its inhabitants – is a reminder of the importance of preserving our heritage. It rang true for me as a Jew as well at a time when so many would try to erase us. Much like the message of the Chanukah season we are currently enjoying.

While I had planned to take the ferry back from Wales to Ireland, the port was still broken, so I decided to spend a night in Liverpool and fly from there to Dublin. I had never been there before and it is such a cool town! I got to take a picture with The Beatles and see the outside of the Cavern Club where they gained popularity. I got to see a bombed-out church. Liverpool had amazing sushi – remember, this is a seaside port so good fish abounds! And, most excitingly, I got to visit the Everton Football Club’s Goodison Park and do a tour. I grew up playing soccer and this is my new favorite team – one I had watched a documentary about on the plane – so it was “beshert” or “meant to be” that I got to visit their stadium! I look forward to following them and my favorite player, Séamus Coleman, in the years to come.

Interesting side note – Liverpudlians are extremely friendly. Contrary, again, to the stereotype of uptight English people, Liverpool is filled with talkative, outgoing people. Their accent is fascinating – with a lot of final “k” sounds becoming like a Hebrew “ch”. I would love to visit this city again!

Last but not least, after arriving back in Dublin, I had one last day to explore. I visited Belfast. I only spent a half a day there (I’d really like to go back!), but I visited the Cathedral, an amazing used bookstore, Belfast City Hall, ate more sushi (sense a theme?), and visited the Discover Ulster-Scots Centre, where I even met a docent from Baltimore! There is so much to experience in this fabulous city (which, yes, is more fabulous than Dublin, sorry!) – and not just conflict tourism.

All in all, no trip is perfect. There was rain every single day. It was chilly. My ferry was cancelled in both directions. Of course sometimes you meet people who aren’t as friendly or fail to meet your expectations for hospitality. And yet, overall, this trip was fabulous. Over ninety percent of the people I met were friendly and kind. The sights were incredible. The nature was stunning. The history was palpable and ancient.

If you haven’t yet had the chance to go, I highly recommend a trip to this part of the world. You might just be surprised at how at ease you’ll feel and find yourself sipping tea with in a café on a Welsh mountaintop with a gay man just as I did. In this Celtic and British wonderland.

Spain is where my soul breathes

Spain is where my soul breathes. It is full of life. Of laughter. Of stunning views. And of kind, generous people who make every moment worthwhile.

This trip was my sixth to Spain, dating back to when I was 13 and went on a school trip. Other than the U.S. and Israel, where I am a citizen, it is the single country where I have traveled most.

I started my trip in Madrid. Madrid is a city that holds a special place in my heart. Besides being where I first went to Spain as a teenager, it is also where I studied abroad a summer in college with my college roommate Ben who is one of my best friends. We had a wild summer. This trip was definitely less wild (I’m 38!) but was so much fun!

Fresh off the plane, I started hitting up the sights. And walking around the gorgeous neighborhood I stayed in, El Barrio de las Letras, named as such because famous writers such as Cervantes spent time there. The sidewalks are lined with quotes of Spanish authors and it is full of one of my favorite things – bookstores! I was also lucky to find that the time I spent in Madrid overlapped with the antiquarian book festival, where I got some real gems, including a hundred-year-old book in Spanish teaching people how to read Hebrew!

Madrid has some pretty churches and of course, the Royal Palace (it was booked up by the time I got there so I admired it from the outside – I had been many years ago and next time I will get a ticket in advance!). It also has some world-renowned museums. I went to the Reina Sofia, the modern art museum. I did this on the second leg of my Madrid trip. I started and ended my travels in Madrid. It was nice to see something modern and creative. I love cathedrals and history. I also enjoy modern, creative artwork that shows a different side of Spain. It was really nice to see everything from Dalí to the famous Guernica work by Picasso.

I also went to two tablaos to see Flamenco shows while in Madrid. Flamenco is an art form that I have always enjoyed. And the performers didn’t disappoint. The footwork, the passion, it was all there. And most importantly, being from a dull city such as Washington that is full of bureaucracy, the performers were all smiling. Improvising. Being creative.

That is the spirit of Spain. Of Madrid. Its people are full of life. Whether it was the cab drivers over sharing about their love life, the Flamenco dancers hugging me telling me that my Gypsy blood explained why I loved the music so much, the woman who insisted on giving me extra ice cream flavors just to make sure I chose the right one. This is how Spain lives. It is the two-hour lunches. It’s the waitress who laughed with me at how many times I ate her restaurant’s salmorejo soup (four times) and told me I was “in love with it”. I am! It’s the best soup and makes its otherwise delicious cousin gazpacho look like Campbell’s.

Another great thing about Madrid is how central it is. It is so easy to get to other parts of Spain. It has long been my dream to visit Zaragoza. And I was not disappointed. Only one hour and change on the high-speed rail system, I did a day trip. Keep in mind this would’ve been a three and a half hour car ride. Spain’s rail system is fucking incredible. And surprisingly affordable. Amtrak blows. I have no idea what we’re doing with rail in the U.S but we are decades behind Spain.

Back to Zaragoza. The city has one of the most incredible churches I’ve seen in my life: Cathedral-Basilica of Our Lady of the Pillar. You can’t take photos inside the magnificently and tastefully adorned interior. But I took some pictures from the outside to give you a sense of the magnitude of this thing.

In addition to seeing a bunch of beautiful historic streets and museums, I got to visit a bookstore, opened just for me! I had asked a man passing by whether this antiquarian bookstore was open. He said he wasn’t sure, then asked a man down the street whether he would open it. The kind man came by and opened the place. Just for me. This is how Spain (and a lot of the Mediterranean) works. There are no set hours for many places. It’s just when the owner feels like opening up. And he was kind enough to do so for me.

I found some gems! I bought books in Aragonese. It is a very old language, on the verge of extinction, that was spoken throughout the Kingdom of Aragon. I’m hoping that with my Spanish and Catalan (a closely-related language), I can understand some of what I bought. The bookstore owner kept bringing me new books to read and to check out. He never, I mean never, rushed me. This is the spirit of Spain – take your time, enjoy, peruse, explore. Never, never rush someone. It’s a lesson I wish many parts of the U.S. would take to heart.

Zaragoza was incredible and it inspired me to do two other day trips. One I actually did before Zaragoza and that was Toledo. Having not visited since I was 13, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Boy was I happy to see what I did! As a Jew, Toledo holds special importance. It was a city with a large and active Jewish Quarter before the expulsion of Jews from Spain. It has two Jewish museums – both former synagogues. Both of which are adorned like mosques, were converted to churches, and then reconverted into Jewish museums.

The cityscape was full of churches and a stunning cathedral and tons and tons of marzipan! Everywhere. I must’ve tried 10 different types of marzipan and it was all delicious and never going to make it into my packed suitcase (full of books!) unfortunately. But boy did I enjoy it! It’s a local specialty and I highly recommend eating lots of it while you’re there.

The other day trip I did from Madrid was Segovia. Most known for its ancient Roman aqueduct (it’s absolutely stunning), it also has a beautiful cathedral and a Jewish museum! It has been inspiring to see Spain caring for its Jewish heritage in ways that even a few decades ago was not happening.

The other half of my time in Spain was spent in Valencia. While I had visited parts of Castilla-La Mancha before (albeit many years ago), I had never been to Valencia! I was attracted to the warm weather (it was sunny every single day), the Mediterranean, the Valencian language (a dialect of the Catalan which I speak), and the landscapes.

The train rides to and from Valencia (which interestingly enough took different routes I believe) were almost worth the trip itself. Here’s some of the scenery:

Valencia is where I started to engage more with people, not just sights. I had, of course, met very kind people in the cities I had visited before. Now that I was over my jet lag and wanting some more in-depth contact with folks, I decided to do some planned activities. In my experience, every good solo trip is a mix of individual exploring and meeting other fellow travelers (and locals!).

Before I get into some of those experiences (city tours, paella making, a flamenco lesson, and a visit to an orange orchard!), I want to share a couple stories about some villages I visited.

During my stay in Valencia, I made sure to get out of the city and see some of the countryside. The first place I visited was Xàtiva. Xàtiva is famous for its castle. And wow it is stunning. Perched atop a mountain, it actually contains two castles connected by a wall surrounding the area. Pictures are worth a thousand words so here are some:

Instead of hiking up the mountain, I took a cab. I got as close as the cab could get to the entrance to the castle, but there was still some way to go to get to the ticket office. And the pathway was partially open. Meaning, there was a steep cliff to the side as you walked by. For those of you who know me well, I am not into steep cliffs or in certain circumstances, heights. So I mustered up a ton of courage to walk into the castle. And I did it! I’m very proud of the steps I took. The bravery I showed myself. And I will always remember Xàtiva not only for the gorgeous views, but also for the relationship of trust I built with myself there.

Other towns I visited included Port Saplaya (a little Venice by the Mediterranean), Buñol (home of the tomatina tomato throwing festival and a very delayed bus driver who was super kind to me), Sagunt (home to a beautiful castle and Jewish quarter), and Puçol.

Puçol is where my online Catalan/Valencian tutor lives! It is not on anyone’s tourist itinerary because it is quite simply a place where people live. There are no “sights to see” (although the church is quite nice). It is just a place where we walked around, finally met in person, and ate the best white chocolate-filled croissant of my life.

Now let’s come back to some of the experiences I had with other tourists and locals in Valencia. First off, I had a private flamenco lesson! The teacher was kind, patient, and kept telling me I learn the dance quicker than others (thanks!). It was so much fun. We kept doing this move she called “un, dos, tres, cuatro, patada!” Which just sounds so fun to stay in Spanish. A “patada” is a kick. And I got a kick out of this lesson.

I also took a paella making class with a wonderful group of tourists from the U.S., Germany, the Netherlands, Kuwait, Costa Rica, and more! The chef was a riot. He was so funny. And we all got to contribute to making the paella (and Spanish “tortilla” omelet) together. The paella was hands-down the best paella of my life. The crap that I had eaten in the States (or even at other otherwise-good restaurants in Valencia or Madrid) did not compare. It was fresh and delicious. For those of you who didn’t know, paella comes from Valencia and maybe that’s what it made it so yummy.

After paella class, one of the German guys asked me if I wanted to go watch the Real Madrid soccer game. I said sure! We talked for hours. Deniz is from Hamburg, incidentally the port where some of my ancestors passed through to get to the U.S. from Eastern Europe. He is also of Turkish descent and Muslim. And married to a Ukrainian Jewish woman. We had such a nice time together. I hid nothing about myself. Although given all the news that has come out of Europe (and the Middle East) this past year, I was hesitant to reveal too much, I felt comfortable with him. And he did with me. We learned a lot about each other. I shared what it’s like to be gay. And Jewish. And some of my experience in Israel. And his experience as a man of Turkish descent in Germany, where he is not always accepted for who he is. It was heartwarming and one of the best nights of my trip. Traveling solo is not always traveling alone.

Perhaps my favorite tour experience of the trip was a visit to Huerto Ribera. It’s an orange orchard in Carcaixent, about 40 minutes outside of Valencia. I asked one of the tour guides what languages she spoke, since she was speaking some French to these Quebecois tourists and a group of French twentysomethings. Her native language, it turns out, was Valencian. She was thrilled when I started speaking to her in Catalan (which is mutually intelligible). Since there were so many French-speaking tourists, she sent the English-speakers to the other guide and took the French-speakers (and me!) with her. Since I speak French and Valencian (and she had only taken three months of French), she asked me to help her translate along the way. It was a challenge but a fun one! Frankly, it’s not one I may ever get again. These are two languages that don’t come into contact very often, especially not in Washington, D.C.

Ana was an incredible, warm, friendly tour guide. We learned all about the different types of oranges (which taste incredible!) and got to try them. We even got to taste orange blossom honey made right there on the orchard. And learn the history of the place. We even got to pick some ourselves! I wish I could bring those rich, citrusy flavors home with me.

Before I left Valencia, I got to see something truly special. Spain has many holidays. In fact, there were two while I was in Madrid, one on either end of my trip. And one in Valencia. In Valencia it was called the festivity of “la verge dels desamparats”. The Virgin of the Helpless. It was packed. Thousands of people filled the streets. An incredibly generous woman next to me explained every step of the celebration. They brought the Virgin’s statue through the streets as people threw flower petals from their balconies. It was a dream.

The woman next to me was with an older woman. Maybe her mother. And the woman started to cry. She said “it’s very moving” in Spanish. And I agreed.

This is the spirit of Spain. It is a place where your emotions are free to flow. Where people are generous. Where quality time is the most precious commodity. Where, rather than keeping everything bottled up inside, you can simply stomp it out like a flamenco dancer or give a “patada” kick like I learned in Valencia. Because Spaniards live well. They aren’t always wealthy and they don’t necessarily wear all the designer brands, but they know their neighbors’ names and they’ll invite you over for dinner.

If you haven’t been, go. If you’ve been, go again. Spain always has something to offer and no matter how long you travel there solo, you’ll never be alone.

Magical Nashville

This holiday season has been rough. This whole fall has been filled with “firsts”: my mom’s birthday, my step-dad’s yahrzeit, Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, Thanksgiving, Chanukah, and now Christmas/New Year’s. All without my mom and step-dad for the first time.

I’ve frankly felt lonely lately. I’m working on it – I have great friends and am picking up some new hobbies like getting back into dance. It also comes with the time of year – lord knows I get the winter blues. It’s just hard to spend time with family that’s gone – while your friends spend time with the ones they still have.

So I decided to go to Nashville! Nashville? Why go to Nashville? Isn’t that just for bachelorette parties? Well, to get a break from the loneliness of the holiday season, I turned to the best medicine I’ve ever found for the blues: travel. And as an avid fan of country and bluegrass music, Nashville has long been on my list.

I certainly bumped into the bachelorettes and drunk middle aged women thronging Broadway’s honkey tonk bars. But then I quickly realized that my scene was elsewhere.

My first night in Nashville, I made my way to a local bluegrass jam session away from the center of the city. It was everything I wanted and more. I sat in a heavenly daze for over an hour and a half and just soaked in the amazing tunes. As more than a dozen different fiddles, banjos, mandolins, guitars, and other instruments plucked away and made my ears melt with joy. Santa Claus even made an appearance and played some bluegrass tunes! If I did nothing else in Nashville, dayenu– this would’ve been enough.

The next day I woke up energized and headed to East Nashville for a mural tour and photo shoot. My guide Aidan was one of the kindest, funniest, and most engaging people I’ve met in my travels. I immediately felt at ease and felt I had found a kindred spirit. We took some great photos, including this post’s cover photo of a Dolly Parton mural. My mom would’ve loved to see it- she was a huge fan. Here are some of my pics:

I then headed to a country line dancing lesson on the main strip on Broadway. I was joined by a Canadian bachelorette party and a 15-year-old girl’s birthday crew. It was a riot. While not exactly my scene socially, the dancing was so much fun and the instructor was really patient and engaging. I’m going to get a video in my email later this week so we’ll see how I did! It reminds me of the good old days in college when I used to go to Wild Country bar outside of St. Louis and go line dancing with friends. And boy was it a workout – I had really worked up a sweat by the end and was having a great time. Plus, I got to dance to one of my favorite country songs- “Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy”. I’m hoping the meaning was lost on the 15-year-old haha.

Tuesday I hit up a historic mansion outside the city that was beautifully decorated for Christmas.

During my stay, I got to visit several museums documenting music history, including the National Museum of African American Music and the Country Music Hall of Fame. I learned how so many bluegrass and country music stars drew inspiration from black artists in their communities and often learned their instruments with them. Latino acts such as Los Lobos drew from and influences country music styles. Jazz, the blues, ragtime, bluegrass, country, and folk music are inextricably connected and all make this town pulsate with life.

On that note (pun intended!), I got to hear a truly wonderful concert at one of America’s most famous venues, the Grand Ole Opry. A live radio show in front of a several-thousand-person studio audience that has been running for almost a century, the Grand Ole Opry was so much fun. I got to hear some amazing bluegrass, country, and soul artists and get exposed to new sources of musical inspiration.

An Israeli friend once told me to guess which part of the United States most resembled Israel. At the time, I hadn’t lived in Israel yet and had only visited twice. I wasn’t sure where she meant. But she told me – “the South. There, life is simple. People aren’t as materialistic. They are warm and friendly.”

Having spent a lot of time in the South (where I went to summer camp growing up) and in Israel, I think she’s on to something. While the South (much like the Middle East) can suffer from conflict and racism and misogyny, it also is the place where I’ve encountered the warmest people in the U.S. Of all races and religions. Whether they’re hipsters, locals, transplants, conservative, liberal, white, black, or none of the above, I’ve found in my travels to the South that people just have an extra soft spot for helping others feel welcome. It’s social lubricant that frankly my hometown of Washington, D.C. sometimes lacks.

Nashville is a creative place. It’s artsy, it’s musical, it’s filled with murals and the dreams of hundreds of songwriters and guitar players. Of fiddlers and of new residents coming to its communities from around the country and around the world.

They know something that not everyone else has discovered and I hope remains somewhat of a secret for the sake of keeping the magic of this city alive. Nashville isn’t just bachelorette parties. Far from it. It is the people who live there who make it so special.

For now, I live in Washington, D.C. and I don’t know if I would move to Nashville or somewhere like it. Kinda hard to live there without a car. But maybe one day there’ll be more public transportation or I’ll simply come back to spend some more time there. Because one thing’s for sure- Nashville’s got a hold on my heart. And if that doesn’t sound like the beginnings of a country song, then I’m not sure what does!

The peace that is Portugal

In September, I took a trip I had been wanting to do for a long time. Portugal and a slice of Galicia, a region in northwest Spain.

In college, I took a course called “Portuguese for Spanish-speakers”. It was the second Romance language I ever learned. And it challenged me. I only took it for a semester, but I learned quickly. The two languages are similar, but are pronounced very differently and have some different vocabulary and grammar. I kept wanting Portuguese to follow Spanish rules. But it refused! So I adapted, learned the new way of communicating this Latinate language, and expanded my mind in the process.

Other than a short jaunt to Lisbon when I was transient homeless between Israel and the U.S., I had never been to a Portuguese-speaking country. I could speak pretty well, but I didn’t have much of an outlet for using the language.

Until this past fall! I went for 10 days to Portugal. I started in Lisbon. What a beautiful, authentic city. The summer crowds had faded (though it was still pretty full!). I toured around on my own. I met some of the kindest people. From the people who worked at my hotel to the restaurant owner who shook my hand and congratulated me on my Portuguese, the folks I met were almost universally kind and friendly. And very, very appreciative of the fact that I communicated with them in their language. Here are some photos from Lisbon, including the end of my trip when I circled back to the city and went on a sailboat cruise!

After a couple nights in Lisbon, including a Fado show (I love this kind of music!), I headed up north to Coimbra. Coimbra is a hidden gem and I won’t tell you everything I experienced there because it’s just too special for me!! All I can say is it’s worth visiting. A medieval university town, it is filled with young college students in Harry-Potter-esque robes wandering around the city singing and gently hazing their freshmen classmates by making them march and shout slogans about their academic fraternities. It was so cool!

Coimbra also has Roman ruins nearby in Conímbriga. It was so neat to see thousands of years of history! Coimbra has a unique Fado music style that I got to experience up close as well. It is the polar opposite of crowded Lisbon – it is quiet, it is peaceful, it is the most relaxing place you could imagine. Here are some photos, though no picture can capture the pure tranquility and easygoing nature of this city:

The generosity of people really rubs off on you here, much like it did to me in Israel. Frequently when I would go to bakeries, the employees would give me extra pastries! So when I found myself at a cafe listening to Fado music and I saw a couple (who I later discovered were part-German part-Brazilian) looking for a place to sit, I invited them to sit with me. We ended up talking for hours and it was so lovely. The spirit of the Portuguese people and their kindness inspired me to do likewise and it felt great. This part of the world – the Mediterranean and its adjacent countries like Portugal – they bring out my soft and generous side and it fits. It feels right.

After saying a sad goodbye to Coimbra, I headed further north to Porto. Porto is somehow even more crowded than Lisbon with tourists. To a point where it was actually unpleasant at times. But I found my niche. I found some cool bookstores, some outer neighborhoods where locals frequent, and most importantly, I used it as a home base for exploring other cities in northern Portugal.

While staying in Porto, I visited Braga, Guimarães, Valença, and the Galician city of Tui! These cities are so gorgeous and laid-back. Here are some views, none of which truly do justice to these gorgeous places:

I learned a lot by visiting these off-the-beaten-path destinations. Guimarães and Braga apparently have an athletic rivalry that parallels a general rivalry between the cities, including politically. I found both to be charming. But many people are “team Guimarães” or “team Braga”. I guess I’m team both!

Valença and Tui are right across from each other on the same river. Valença is the Portuguese town and Tui is the Galician/Spanish town. Both were fascinating and despite being so close to each other geographically, were quite culturally different.

Tui attracts pilgrims on the Camino Portugues de Santiago. I met some on the way and they were super friendly, including a woman from Brazil who basically did a photoshoot for me while carrying her heavy hiking backpack.

The food in Tui is distinctly Spanish and the Galician soup is delicious! In addition to Spanish, people speak Gallego, a form of medieval Portuguese (actually its original dialect) mixed with some Spanish phonology and vocabulary. I can understand 99% of it with my Spanish and Portuguese and it is so cool! I’m incredibly glad I made it to this part of the world that I had spent a long time dreaming about visiting.

In Braga, I met Pedro, my new Instagram friend, who was my Uber driver. And coincidentally, also gay! He’s Brazilian with Portuguese parents and took me all around Braga all the way to Porto, making extra stops for me to see special sites. Like many Portuguese immigrants, he comes from a former Portuguese colony. I got to experience some of this diaspora culture in Lisbon when I went to a Mozambican restaurant. The owner was so kind. I offered to tip and he refused saying, in Portuguese, “it’s like you’re eating in my home. I can’t accept a tip.”

If I had to summarize this incredible, life-changing trip, it is that Portugal’s people are what make it so special. The architecture is stunning, the weather is great, the scenery is relaxing. But what made this trip so heartwarming were the people I met along the way and their incredible kindness.

At a time when the world is spinning. When my other homeland of Israel is under attack. When innocent civilians have been kidnapped. When war is on our minds. I think back to the joys of visiting Portugal and hope, with that ever-present Portuguese feeling of “saudade” or “longing”, that one day we’ll get back to this state of mind. A state of tranquility and peace.

May it be so.

Sweet Switzerland

Switzerland. It is the most beautiful place on the planet. At least one of them!

Take a look:

And it’s not just the scenery that’s gorgeous. It’s the smile on my face. Having been through so much in the past few years, it was refreshing to get back to my “self”. My traveling, wandering, exploring self. At times I missed my mom, but I could feel her spirit supporting my journey.

Initially, I was supposed to spend three nights of my journey in France, but due to rioting there, I decided to change my plans and spend my entire trip in Switzerland, where frankly things are extremely safe and calm all the time. The most outrage I saw was when a train was 15 minutes late and people panicked. Everything runs on time in this country and it’s so steady. Reliable. It’s like the country version of the kind of man you want to settle down with.

I did make a point of crossing the border and spending some time in Annecy, France, not far from Geneva. It was stunning and unlike other parts of the country at the time, quite safe. Here are some pictures of the medieval town and its surrounding crystal-clear stunning lake:

More of France will have to wait until another trip, but I was glad I got to see this countryside gem.

As for Switzerland, what can I say? The trains are sleek, efficient, and take you everywhere. Even the deepest mountain valleys like Engelberg and Interlaken that I visited. There were cable cars up the mountains too. It was like a dream. I’m so glad I spent the rest of my trip in this charming country because it was nothing but stress relief. The nature saps away all your worries. And the people, especially in the German-speaking areas around Bern that I visited, were so friendly.

The Swiss have a reputation for being a bit cranky. And some people fit that description, but many did not. The stereotype is that the German-speaking regions are more uptight, but anecdotally, I found the opposite to be true. Even though I spoke French and not German, the French speakers tended to be a tougher nut to crack. That being said, it totally depended on the person and I met plenty of friendly francophones!

While I don’t speak German, I do speak some Yiddish, a Germanic language. And it came in handy! In Bern and some of the rural villages nearby, some people only spoke Swiss German. And with a sprinkling of Yiddish and English, I was able to communicate with people! It was remarkable. The next time someone tells you Yiddish is useless, tell them “not in Switzerland!” I understood most street signs and could gather what people were talking about.

It frankly makes me want to visit more German-speaking countries, especially Austria next door, which has some pretty spectacular-looking mountains itself. It surprised me how much I loved German-speaking Switzerland and I look forward to seeing where this takes me linguistically, culturally, and of course with my travel!

I loved visiting some pretty incredible bookstores and I bought some pretty unique treasures to add to my library. I visited one antiquarian bookshop in Geneva. The woman working there unfortunately fit the stereotype of the grumpy Swiss person. Every time I asked about a different genre of books, she grumbled. Finally, she said “vous ne savez pas ce que vous voulez”. You don’t know what you want. And I responded, with restraint but calm certitude: “Je veux explorer.” I want to explore.

That’s what I want. I want to see the world. I want to view, experience, love, learn. I’ve never felt so powerful as when I responded this way.

This trip had its challenges, but overall, it was a dream come true. My mom would be proud of how I tackled those challenges and made this a week from heaven.

Switzerland – I’ll be back. In the meantime, I’ll miss your on-time transit, your delicious cheese and chocolate, your stunning nature, and the people smiling at me along the way of every language and culture.

Where to next? We’ll see! But you can count on hearing more from me soon.

Traveling Matt is back.

The travel bug

Last Sunday, June 18, I booked a ticket to Switzerland for June 30th. I’ll be, God willing, visiting Switzerland and France for a week and I could not be more excited!! Send me good vibes folks.

Something interesting happened as I told my friends. Those who had met me during the pandemic or while my mom and stepdad were sick with cancer were shocked. Was it the short time frame? The distant travel? The go-with-the-flow spirit of adventure? Or some combination?

The bottom line is all of my friends that I’ve made in the past few years were happy for me, but almost all were surprised. After all, I’ve been grounded since I met them by the circumstances that surrounded me and all they knew was what they saw. Sadness, anger, frustration, and a sense of being “stuck”.

Now of course that’s not all they saw. There were happy moments amidst the chaos. And I did, in fact, travel a decent amount on a smaller scale. Small enough to get home to see my mom if her health went from bad to worse. Since I first got vaccinated, I went to Montreal (twice!), Philadelphia, Charleston (twice!), Savannah, Charlottesville, New Orleans, Richmond, and Vermont. So it wasn’t as if I was stationary. But I can’t deny that Covid, and in particular my mom’s cancer, was always in the back of my head even if I could temporarily feel some relief and healthy distraction.

I’m still experiencing my own hardship as I grieve over my mom’s and stepdad’s deaths and will continue to do so in various forms for a long time. On some level, forever.

And yet, a part of me is coming back to life. Something that would make my parents happy. And is making me feel like I have a new sense of purpose and enjoyment.

I am traveling again.

Again being the key word. When I lived in Israel, I traveled to 120 different municipalities. I visited 10+ European and Middle Eastern countries. I would hop on random buses and see where they took me, plotting out my voyages along the way.

All of which is to say, this is not new for me. It’s only new for folks who’ve met me since I was dealing with the hardship that has been the past few years. I’m excited for them to see this side of me and to get to know me this way. And perhaps to join me on some of my trips – in person or in spirit.

Anne is one of my Zoom Hebrew students. She and her husband live in Massachusetts and met me in Barcelona when I was visiting a Reform synagogue for Shabbat services. She has followed my ups and downs both as a student and a friend for about five years now.

When I told her today that I had just booked a ticket to Switzerland, she was ecstatic. “You’re getting back to the Matt I met,” she said. “The Matt that wanders, that adventures, that explores other cultures. I’m so excited for you!”

I am too. I’m excited to reconnect with this deep sense of self that enjoys seeing the world, talking to new people, reconnecting with old friends in other countries, eating good food, speaking different languages, buying fascinating new books, visiting archives, bathing in the beauty of stunning nature, and finding reasons to hope. To feel optimistic. To find joy in complexity and layers of texture.

That is the Matt who started this blog. That is the Matt who, from a young age, has always dreamed of seeing what’s out there. That is the Matt who learned seven (and a half) languages. And why?

Because I love it. Nothing makes me happier. It is a source of exploration and joy and affirmation and compassion for each other as human beings.

I can’t wait for my next adventure and I look forward to sharing it with you!

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