Adventures in Guangzhou!

Chabad is nice because, so far as I can tell, they don't try to convert you into becoming a super-Jew. Rather, they are just happy that you're making any sort of effort. They provide the location, the materials, and the spiritual leader. Beyond that, it's up to you. So I copied down the address of the place and hopped in a cab right after my classes yesterday. For the most observant Jews, Yom Kippur is an all-day affair with services starting around 8am and not ending until around sundown. Keep in mind that you're also fasting for the entire thing. Ugh. Anyway, I rushed out to try and catch minchah, the afternoon service, and neilah, the concluding service. After some minor detours I found the spot and headed in just in time for the beginning of minchah.

In my insular thinking, I was expecting there to be a bunch of American businessmen there and maybe a couple of English guys. Silly me. A very nice man met me at the door and in hebrew asked if I wanted a tallis (a prayer shawl) and a machzor (a prayer book). My brain took a few moments to translate this, but I answered in the affirmative and the guy gave me his book and his tallis. I glanced at the translation of the hebrew in my hands and saw it was in French. Interesting. As I walked into the prayer room, I noticed that there were very few American-looking caucasians but rather a melting pot of various ethnicities. I saw prayer books in Hebrew/English, Hebrew/Spanish, Hebrew/French, and what looked like Hebrew/Norwegian. The majority of people there appeared to be of sephardic descent--Jews who can trace their roots back to the Iberian Peninsula. In other words, it was hardly Beth David, my parent's synagogue in West Hartford, CT.

It's been years since I had to use my Hebrew in any sort of extended fashion (I think the last time was ordering falafel in Paris) so it definitely took a couple minutes to clear some of the cobwebs away. My old Hebrew teachers from Solomon Schechter would probably be horrified at how much I've forgotten, but I choose to see the glass as half full-- I was pleasantly surprised at how much of the conversational Hebrew I understood and how I could even muster basic responses. What's really weird is that my first instinct when the guy handed me a prayer book was to respond, "xie xie," the Chinese for "thank you," as opposed to "todah," the Hebrew.

It was really comforting to be immersed in such a familiar environment. The Jewish world is apparently very small because despite the fact that there were people from all over the world speaking a multitude of different languages, we all managed to sing some of the same melodies to the herbew prayers. It was also nice to be slightly more competent with the language. Though I am making some progress with my chinese lessons, I'm still eons away from where I need to be. In the simplest terms, it was great not to have to think real hard about how to pronounce the words on the page. I also noticed that there are a number of grammatical similarities between Hebrew and Chinese. They're a world apart but apparently disparate languages can also transcend certain barriers.

After mincha we went right on to neilah, the concluding service. My family has the tradition of going to services for most of the morning and skipping out on neilah to break the fast with friends. This makes the day waaaaay easier because neilah is pretty tough. Whoever designed this service back in the day decided that you really had to some serious work for atonement because the concluding service is done entirely standing up (after a day without food). It's not easy. The very end of the service is pretty cool though because someone sounds the shofar, a ram's horn hollowed out and used as a musical instrument, with one long blast to signify the end of the holiday. I made it through and enjoyed a couple of pieces of cake provided the synagogue to break the fast. Not exactly my mom's kugel, but I'll take it.

I was planning on just heading home or finding a noodle shop around the synagogue for a meal, but a couple of the French guys in their late 20's found me before I left. They spoke almost no English and I don't speak more than two words of French so Hebrew was the common ground. I figured out that they wanted me to go out with them. Sure, I thought, always nice to make new friends. I foolishly assumed that we were going out for food, but it seems that these guys like to break fast over a few pints instead. So it was off to the "Cave Bar" where Carlsburg on tap is two for one before 9pm. Who am I to argue? I figured out that unfortunately they don't live in GZ but are only here for some business. Too bad, because they were a riot. I had to walk away after two beers though because otherwise I think I would have gotten far too inebriated to even make it home. Drinking on an empty stomach is not exactly the best idea in my mind so I went in search of noodles to end my day. All in all it was quite an experience and I think I will try to get back to Chabad at some point for another holiday.