First off, Bratislava is a beautiful city. I had never been to Slovakia and wasn’t sure what to expect, but its cafes were cute, its churches elegant, and its vibe very chill. It makes for a great day trip from Vienna, where I was staying.
Here are some photos to give you an idea of what it looks like:
One of my favorite ways to get to know a new city is through its bookstores! I love books. They’re the only physical possession I care about and I love reading and collecting them! As was the case with a bookstore in Salzburg, the bookstores in Bratislava led me to some interesting discoveries.
The first store I went to primarily sold new books. I got some Slovakian gay poetry and then asked where I might find Jewish books. I was able to find a book of Psalms written in Hebrew and Slovak! And one of the coolest parts about it was that it was new – meaning Jewish life still breathes in this part of the world. Sadly, the Jewish museum was closed on the day I visited, but apparently Bratislava has quite a significant Jewish past. In 1880, 16% of the city was Jewish– a higher percentage than today’s New York City! Today only 1,000 Jews live in Bratislava, from a pre-Holocaust population of 15,000. I’ll definitely want to come back and get to know the community more!
I had a meaningful conversation with the bookstore employee about LGBTQ+ rights in Slovakia, where she said it can be quite hard to come out. I was happy to see both of my identities validated – Jewish and gay – in this cute store. On the door to the store was a Pride sticker that said “we don’t differentiate (i.e. discriminate)”.
After visiting this cute spot, I found a used bookstore around the corner- Antikvariát Steiner. This bookstore is a treasure trove of old books! It was owned by a Jewish family before the Holocaust and I immediately asked to be pointed towards the Jewish books.
Perhaps because I am part Hungarian-Jewish, my eye was drawn to a machzor, a High Holiday prayer book in Hungarian. It was from 1922 and printed in Budapest, only a few hours away these days by train:
What was a Hungarian-language prayer book doing in Bratislava, Slovakia? Well, the answer is that this city used to be pretty diverse. Besides having a large historic Jewish population, the city was in 1910 40% Hungarian! And it wouldn’t surprise me if a number of the local Jews spoke Hungarian, just like my great-grandparents who immigrated to the U.S.
In fact, this visit to Slovakia could very well have been a homecoming for me. I know that my great-grandparents were from a town called Pacza (sometimes spelled Pacsa) in the former Hungarian Empire. However, the genealogists at the Jewish Museum in Budapest said it could be several different places, perhaps Pacsa (near Lake Balaton). But one of the villages mentioned was Pača in present-day Slovakia.
Perhaps I’ll continue doing some genealogy to find out exactly which village it is. But on some level, I am comfortable with the ambiguity. Much like Bratislava, I’m a mix. Bratislava was ethnically German, it was Hungarian, it was Jewish, it was Slovakian, it was Romani. And like Central Europe as a whole, I’m a bit of everything.
In days in which the world is so polarized between “this” or “that”, perhaps we can all strive to be a bit more like Bratislava and embrace our mixed heritage. Nuance. And diversity of thought and culture.
If you haven’t had the chance to visit this gem on the Danube, I highly recommend it and who knows what its books and history will lead you to discover!
Győr is not a place many tourists visit compared to Vienna, Budapest, and Bratislava. It is smaller and there aren’t as many great “sights”. That’s what attracted me to it. Everyone enjoys a beautiful castle or cathedral- myself included. But I also like seeing how people live their daily lives and escaping some of the tourist crowds I found myself in during other parts of my trip to Central Europe.
After hopping on a quick train from Vienna, where I had explored the past and present of the local Jewish community, I headed to Hungary for the day. A few things caught my eye when I arrived to Győr. First of all, there were no organized tour groups. Second, the town was clean and safe. Third, the baked goods and goulash were delicious. And fourth, it was a relaxed, affordable city with a slow pace of life.
The old town streets and churches were beautiful and had a lot of charm.
After a bowl of delicious goulash (I later learned that there are different styles of goulash depending on where in Hungary or Central Europe you are!), I headed to the main reason I wanted to visit Győr – its magnificent Old Synagogue.
Along the way, I stopped at a used bookstore and asked if they had any Jewish books. I found a bilingual Hungarian-Hebrew copy of Talmud commentary from 1937. You could still see the former owner’s notes inside – it was incredible. I felt connected to this history – my history – because I’m part Hungarian as well. I wonder what became of the owner of this book or their family. 1937 was an ominous year and the ones that followed were only worse for the Jewish community – of Hungary and of Europe as a whole. I felt I had saved a book and I plan to learn more about this treasure, a testament to my people’s history.
I finally made it to the Old Synagogue. It is a beautiful, beautiful building that dominates the part of the city across the river. Once home to a thriving Jewish community of almost 5,000 (8% of the population in 1941), few members survived the deportations to Auschwitz during the Holocaust. I encourage you to read more about the history of the community here.
Before going inside, I bought a ticket – it’s now considered a museum. Sadly, the community does not appear to be large enough to have a regular, active presence there from what I could tell. It’s largely used as a historic site and a music school.
In fact, when I entered the synagogue, I heard a piano playing the most beautiful music. While it is sad that it is no longer an active synagogue, I am happy that it is being used to promote the arts, something that hopefully brings us some shared humanity during dark times. I met some of the music students who were kind enough to take a picture of me at the door to the synagogue.
Now comes the real treat. The inside of the synagogue is absolutely stunning. The architecture was inspiring. You can almost hear the cantor’s booming voice filling the room. The aron hakodesh, or ark where the Torah is placed, is almost Ottoman in style and gleamed as the lights shone down on the pianist and his teacher.
Here are some pictures:
Other than the pianist and his teacher, who I smiled at and gave a thumbs up to (the music was gorgeous), I had almost the whole place to myself. What a treat.
I wish I was there with the Jews of Győr. Perhaps cousins of mine, fellow Hungarians who are no more. But I couldn’t be more grateful for the opportunity to explore my heritage in this beautiful city.
Hungary gets a bad rap for political reasons. And I think it’s blatantly unfair to judge a whole country because you may disagree with some of its leadership’s policies.
The fact is as a Jew, I felt safer in Hungary than I do in Washington, D.C. So for all of Hungary’s problems, I wish people would see the country with some more nuance and go visit to see it for themselves.
Because I, for one, love Győr. And I’m glad I made this detour from the more well-worn tourist path to explore a place of deep significance for my people and my Hungarian Jewish heritage.
After witnessing a virulent anti-Israel rally, I was about to give up on Salzburg, a beautiful city in Austria. Then, I wandered into an old used book store and I found the most stunning thing.
I asked the book store owner in Yiddish (because Yiddish and German are similar and it’s super useful when traveling in areas where folks don’t speak fluent English!) if he had any Jewish books.
He said he didn’t think he had any, but that if there were any, they’d be downstairs in the history section.
I picked up a Jewish book published in Germany in the 1960s:
Then as soon as I opened the book, the most surprising and magical thing happened. A postcard of fourth-grade girls from 1937 – in the midst of the Holocaust – fell out of the book!
On it, there are some names written in cursive on the front. And on the back, even more names, some hard to decipher and written in pencil.
On the back of the card, someone presumably named “K. Schloemer Schwartz” wrote “everything is shit”. And if these girls, pictured below, were in fact Jewish and living in Austria or Germany during the Holocaust, you can understand why K. Schloemer Schwartz would think the world was shit. Probably very few, if any, survived.
To say this was “bashert” – or “meant to be” – is an understatement. This book could have sat in this bookstore for years untouched and unexamined. It could’ve been thrown out, along with this intriguing postcard. I felt honored that it had found me.
Since finding the postcard, I’ve shared it with U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum and the National Library of Israel. I want to make sure this postcard can make its way to any of these survivors or their descendants. If you have any contacts at other institutions like Yad Vashem or Jewish genealogical resources, please don’t hesitate to comment below or contact me with any information.
Until then, the card remains a mystery. A mystery I intend to solve and that I’m happy ended up in my hands.
These innocent girls, now perhaps in their 90s if they’re alive, deserve to touch this piece of their past.
At a time of increasing antisemitism yet again, when it seems like the world has lost all sense of sanity and has forgotten the lessons of the Holocaust, this postcard is a reminder of Jewish humanity. It’s a reminder that our lives mattered then and they matter now – even if so many in the broader society demonize us for no reason.
We survived evil many times in our history and we will overcome it yet again.
May the memories of these young girls I discovered in Salzburg be for a blessing. And I hope, with your help, to find their families to offer a bit of comfort.
Am yisrael chai – the Jewish people lives. Now and forever.
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.
Planting Roots Bearing Fruits 
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