Marci Soifer

Phew. That trip to Chile was brief. But, we had to rush into Bariloche, Argentina, the land we heard was bursting with Israelis. We took a day long bus ride on Wednesday, to arrive early into Bariloche, a beautiful city in the mountains, situated on sparkling lakes. We had no idea how or where, but Mollie and I were determined to find a seder. Thanks to the internet, we had heard that there was a large seder planned for Israeli backpackers in a fancy hotel in Bariloche, but we had been closed out...according to the rude woman who answered the phone at this hotel. But, if the Israelis were converging on this city, there had to be more than one seder. With no place to sleep, yet, uncertainty of plans, and having not really eaten much in a while (or showered, for that matter), we decided to wing it.

The bus ride was easy, and we watched ¨Bad Boys II¨ twice, which I think has now surfaced as Mollie´s new favorite (or...this is the only time we use television entertainment). When we unloaded our bus at the Argentine border, to exchange immigration materials and collect passport stamps, we met an Australian man, 22, and an American man from Maine, 24. They were not traveling together, but they both happened to currently be living in Buenos Aires, and seemingly, they were both interested in hanging out with us.

3:45. The bus pulled into Bariloche, and we strapped on our packs. Time to find seder, a hostel, a shower...and fast. The two male travelers we had met decided to join us, as we took a bus into town and looked for shelter. We had actually found out about a few hostels, and you know, there is always Lonely Planet. As we walked, we joked with the boys that all of us needed to keep our senses hightened to notice an Israeli travel agency or Hebrew speakers on the street...just in case someone might know something about a seder. So, hostel one...we approached to inquire about space. No beds. But they assured us that a few blocks over, there was another hostel, and we would find space there. We went...no beds. But, the multitude of Hebrew speakers (Israelis) hanging out at hostel two attracted Mollie´s attention. In Hebrew, she asked where they were going for seder. It was here that we learned that there was a center somewhere with a large, open seder. Excellent...it existed.

Without any details, but with the piece of mind that somewhere in this city, we would be able to join a seder, we focused on the task at hand. Immediate need: shelter and shower. A few blocks over, with my pack starting to weigh a little more, hostel three was approached. No beds. But, they assured us that a few blocks over, there was another hostel, and we would find space there. We went, still 4 in toe, a few blocks over and up. No beds. But, they assured us that a few blocks over, there was another hostel, and we would find space there. So, we continued on...again. Although it was cold, I began to feel the slow trickle of sweat collecting in the small of my back. My shoulders felt sore. The hands on my watch read 5:00. I took a deep breath, now feeling more urgency.

Hostels, hostels, more hostels. We walked to a few more until one finally said, ¨one bed in a room with four males, but if you go up a few more blocks...(same old story)¨. I sat down, my pack against a fence, outside of this hostel, and the boys joined me. Mollie declared that she would run up to the other hostel, which seemingly was up a large hill (but sure, a few blocks), to check on the bed space there. I sat, with our two new friends, listening to my stomach grumble, feel the air bush against my sweat creating a bitter, cold sensation on my skin, and watch the hands of my watch keep moving. The sun would set soon. Passover was coming.

Mollie came back fifteen minutes later, to report again, that only one bed was open, but in a room of three females. The boys presented the idea that the four of us could go to a hostel they knew of outside of town, to crash there. But, Mollie and I gave each other eyes...we knew if we headed out of town, we would never find the seder. We decided to part with these boys, agreeing to meet them the next morning to perhaps go hiking, and that the two of us would split to occupy these two beds. We decided that I would take the space in the room of females, and Mollie in the room with males. This meant that I needed to strap on my pack and head up this hill, get into this room of strangers, and shower quickly, only to return as soon as possible to pick up Mollie and head downtown...and listen for Hebrew, or look for people dressed nicely, to inquire about the seder.

I started off. The road was small, and was on a rather large incline. Unsure of where exactly I was headed, other than knowning that Mollie had walked straight up and the hostel was on this street, I just walked. The mixture of the hill, my pack, exhaustion and hunger, and an anxious feeling in my stomach made this walk almost painful...as if this walk could say something, it was screech and cry. I walked for a few minutes, breaked for a few minutes to catch my breath, walked for a few minutes, and continued the cycle. Did I pass this place already? At this moment, all I could think was, ¨ah, being a backpacker¨.

And, then, admist rows and rows of beautiful, well decorated homes, there it was...youth hostel. I ran in, ignored the employee who tried to explain the facility to me, and waited for him to show me the room. After plopping down my pack and locating my one nice shirt and necklace, I ran into the bathroom (okay, so I did not run, and I did have to wait a few minutes for someone else to get out of the bathroom, and then I had clean up the shampoo spill in my toiletry bag) and showered as fast as I could. As I occupied the bathroom, I heard the echos if Hebrew obsenities...and knew that there must be a few Israelis in the hall of my hostel. In the insterest of reuniting with Mollie, I decided to speak to no one and rush out. 20 minutes later, I was ready for Passover and back down the hill (without my pack...thank goodness). 6:45.

The hostel owners at Mollie´s hostel casually walked up the stairs to alert her of my arrival, and she casually descended down. A smile on her face, she told me that the males in her room were Israeli and told her a bit about the seder. They said that it was a Chabad seder, run by the Lubavitch Jews, a religious sect. It was supposedly located in a center somewhere, and began around 8:00. I exhaled.

We walked into town slowly, breathing deeply and thinking about what we could pick up on the way in the line of a snack (knowing that seders are usually long and have the festive meal late...and we were ravenous and all). All the way, we were still keeping our eyes open for an Israeli on the street or a group of moving Israelis, with a destination. Before we did anything else, however, we needed to get some Argentine currency in our hands.

And there, in the line of a money exchange center, two men standing behind us exchanged Hebrew. Immediately and without any precursor, I turned to these men and said, ¨hi, are you Israeli?¨ They nodded, smiling. ¨Great, where are you going for seder?¨ The taller of the two, with dark hair and eyes, took his hands out of his pockets. ¨We are going to a seder a few blocks from here. You should come with us.¨ We glanced at each other, and I turned back to him. ¨Thank you. We will.¨

The walk over was short, and Mollie and I broke into speaking to these men. One of them had been released from the Israeli army 20 days prior, and the other had been traveling in South America for a while, waiting for his friend to be released and meet up with him. They were traveling the Israeli curcuit through South America, and were really excited to meet us...two American, Jewish girls. We knew they were really Israeli when, en route to the seder, they asked us to stop off at a little store for them to purchase cigarettes. Obviously.

We approached the building only to find nearly 25 Israelis on the outside, smoking and shouting at each other in Hebrew. We entered, surprised to find a large, fluorescently lit gym, with four enormously long tables set next to one another, with a smaller fifth at the top, stretching the length of the other four. The tables were littered with tons of plastic seder plates, organge colored haggadot (Passover seder books), charoset (Passover food), and plastic glasses. Israelis were everywhere. We had made it.

We made conversation, as most Israelis can speak English, and were invited to light candles in the back with the other women. Excitedly, we sat down with one of the men who we found in the money exchange and a few of his friends. We soon found that these were a few of the religious Israelis present, and the majority of the others were just Israelis traveling through who wanted to be a part of an Israeli event, but were mostly secular. There were people who had been traveling for months, traveling together, traveling alone, new travelers who had just left Israeli, and those who had even been living in the States (working as movers, of course). As social as we could be, we exchanged stories and hellos, and soon found that we were the only two in the place who were not Israeli. We were just American Jews. And, when everyone sat down and the tables were full, Mollie and I estimated that there were at least 400 people there.

The seder was led by the two Lubavitch rabbis who stood on chairs at the fifth, shorter table, facing us. They spoke broken Hebrew through the entire event, and every so often, a random Israeli would shout out the correct vocabulary. Mollie and I remembered that we had not studied Hebrew in some time, and laughed as we wished that the seder was actually in Spanish. But, the story is the same, the songs are the same, the order of events is the same...it was a seder, and we were so happy to be amongst this crowd on this night. And, when the festive meal was finally served, we had never been so excited to see food. This is the moment when I did something I have not done in months...I ate chicked. Yup, the vegetarian diet in South America ended here, at the seder, with kosher chicken. And, what a way to go.

In the end, we took some of the matzah supplied by Chabad in ¨to go¨ bags to supplement the matzah that Mollie brought from Brooklyn, and headed off to a nearby bar, where we heard the Israelis migrated to (you know, a little after seder party). Here, we sipped wine, talked, and basked in how much we enjoyed the evening, afterall. This was also one of the first moments that I noticed where we were. Bariloche is a very nice city. A large city, with a very accessible feel, the streets are lined with winter and sporting gear shops, excursion agencies, and chocolate stores (that is a main feature of this place). The restaurants are nice and people friendly, and (as I would notice in the morning) the lake brings about fluffy clouds that complement the snow capped mountains around the sparkling lake. It is a beautiful place, with some kind of majesty. You can tell that it is a vacation destination, as it feels very first world, and seems to be saturated with people and activities.

In the morning, miraculously, we decided to indeed go back into town to meet up with the two guys from the Chile bus, and go hiking. We had no idea where they wanted to go, but we each carried small packs of matzah, tuna, and bananas, some water, and of coruse, my knee braces. The guys met us at a bus stop at 9:30 AM, with a million questions about Passover and our seder...had we made it there? Happily, and as we boarded a city mini-bus to a destination near another set of lakes that one of them knew about, we told them all about the night, and answered their multiple questions about Judaism.

The bus dropped us off in a small ski resort, which is the entry point for a few hiking trails. They told us that they would return a quarter past every hour, until 9:15. It was 11:15. We ended up on a 7 hour trail called Frey, which goes around a small mountain range and over a few lakes, into a forrest, and leaves off very near the snow at the top of the mountains, at a lagoon. A sunny day, we shed our layers progressively, and basked in the red, yellow, and green of the mountains, the teal of the lakes, the blue of the sky, and the white, brown, and green of the trees. The colors were striking.

We hiked for a few hours, ended up at the top to unload some matzah and have lunch. Mollie and I were enjoying the company of these two guys, and found ourselves breaking into laughter, telling stories, and sharing travel experiences with these two, as we soaked up the lagoon´s beauty. We had to resist their offers to share a roll or a pastry, but had a really nice lunch.

The descent was a little colder than the ascention, but the sun was setting, and the mountains grew in size as they cast shadows on one another. My knees were relaxed n the way down, and although on of the guys had a bad knee, we still went down as steadily as possible. Sure when we realized that it was 7:05 and we were near the end, the guy with the good knee got sent ahead (running) to grab the bus and ask them to wait for us. We hurried through the very end, and made it to the bus, and returned to Bariloche by 8:00. 10 miles and a bit more than 7 hours later. It was a fabulous day.

The guys, who we had gotten pretty used to, are both heading back to Buenos Aires today, so we will have to see them another time. Mollie and I have found another hostel to move to so that we can live together, which we are rather excited about, and it happens to be run by Israelis, who offered us traditional Israeli food for meals. We might just have to have some shakshuka.

So, we are in Bariloche for a while now, and we will be eating the matzah for at least a few more days. Who knows how long, really. But, we are looking forward to staying put for a short while, and enjoying excursions from here, as it is undoubtedly a beautiful place with a lot to offer. Now, I just have to get used to the Argentine accent and the colder weather, and all will be well.

I hope that you are all well, and happy holidays.