Exploring

Saturday, April 25, 2009
Shabbat

Awake by 7:00 so that I could breakfast and get to the Straßenbahn (the “ß” is a double-S) (streetcar) by 8:10, I was on my way to the orthodox synagogue for morning services. Ironic, eh?

At the synagogue, easy to find on a main street, I was suspiciously greeted at the door by an Israeli equivalent of a Navy Seal or Green Beret. By the way, there's also a police station right next door, and steel and concrete barriers around the front. I don't think there has been an incident at a Jewish institution in Berlin since 1945, but you can't be too careful in any European city with a large number of unassimilated residents.

The actual synagogue building doesn't face the street, but the courtyard. The building was constructed in about 1902 as a B'nai B'rith lodge, but I wouldn't have known that if not told. It's a very pretty building interior and exterior.

As I arrived early, I joined a talmud lesson in progress. The older rabbi, from Israel, had a group of 15 men and about 7 women learning separately but together. The service was then under way at 9:30. Two people asked me if I were a Kohen or Levi. Eventually, I was offered an aliyah, but I decided to decline. Anim Zmirot was led by one of the children so enthusiastically that his out-of-tune singing didn't even bother me much.

In my row was a gentleman who had a beautiful singing voice. I told him so and he said that he would be giving a concert the next day at the Jewish center. As we talked more, I learned that he “comes from America, too.” He had immigrated to the US from Israel, where he had gone sometime during the communist period in Poland. He showed himself to be somewhat intolerant of people he defined as insincere. I decided I would forego his concert.

After services was a very nice sit-down, served kiddush, with various types of salads, herring, bread, nuts, fruits, and a thick cholent, full of huge pieces of meat.

Most of the people in the congregation were older with a few in their 30's and 40's. There were only 2 people that appeared to be in their 20's or younger, except for the small children of some of the attendees. Many were Russian – probably a majority. Several were American and other foreign nationalities, but all spoke German.

I was back at Martin's by about 3:00. Shortly we were off to the countryside.

We would drive about 40 or so kilometers towards the East. That's about how far it is to Alpharetta. We passed through several small towns, some of them charming, and some of them very plain. As we wound through the streets of one particular Dorf (town/village), we saw a “Ritterfest” (a knight's festival) at the local Schloß. A Schloß can be a king's palace or it can be a lowly gentle-family's estate. This was apparently owned by some Ritter (knight).

We soon arrived at their “farm,” a couple of acres in the village of Wölsikendorf, with a very old stone house, which they had to rehabilitate to make it liveable. The walls are 2 feet thick, and they live there on many weekends of the growing season. Apparently, the place was falling down when they bought it (for a song?), and they paid about 50,000 Euros to rehab the house, including reinforcement of the foundation, supports for the walls, finishing the upstairs, new wiring, heating, and water lines. Just about the only thing that's original are the exterior walls.

The plan for today is to drive across the Oder River and into Poland, where they know of a nice place to have dinner. The Polish border is about 30 km farther towards the East. During the time of Bismarck, the Polish border was significantly farther to the East. Only after the War did the Oder become the border.

On the way, we visited the towns where Martin grew up and then went to high school. In one of the towns there was a memorial on the "Jewish Steps" that used to pass the no-longer-extant synagogue. In the town where he spent his childhood, we stopped to look at the Ginko tree that he liked so much. When I was taking his picture in front of the house and the tree, the resident in the house came to greet us. She was a minister in training. Since Martin's father had been a minister, and Martin had also studied, they chatted a while about the itinerant ministry in the small towns in the area.

Since Poland is part of the European Union, we didn't even have to slow down as we entered the country. The only evidence that we were in a different country is that many of the signs are in Polish – but not all signs. German customers cross the border to buy food, cigarettes, and gasoline; therefore, many of the signs are in German.

We stopped at a grocery to stock up, where all products were identified by their Polish-language packaging or by signs. We bought fresh vegetables, pickled herring and mackarel, yogurt, and so forth. I forced them to let me pay for the 15 Euro purchase, but they still managed to force the cashier to take their money for part of the payment. The change was in Złoty, since the Euro has not been put into place in Poland yet.

Martin filled up the car with gasoline that was 25 Euro Cents cheaper per liter than in Germany.

We went to dinner in an old monastery that was founded in 1299. The menu of the establishment said that it was 1266, but Martin assured me that it was not that old – only 1299. The food was quite good. Two of us had Butterfish, which might be pompano among us, with sugar peas. It was very nice. Dessert was apple strudel, but not rolled up; it was more like apples laid upon a crust with ice cream and whipped cream.

The drive back to Wölsikendorf was uneventful.