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Name: margalit
Location: Massachusetts, United States Professional writer, educational advocate, opinionated ultra liberal mother of 18 year old twins, living life in the slow lane due to hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, congestive heart failure, and diabetes.

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Sunday, July 29, 2007

Gay Paree #35

Hey folks... I need comments to keep awake. And I need sponsors to help me reach my goal. So please, a comment or two? And please sponsor me. Purty pleeze...

Dawn has no sense of direction. She doesn't speak French. She is afraid to talk to strangers, especially to ask questions. She can't follow a map for her life. She's not comfortable on the Metro. She was a disaster waiting to happen. And of course, disaster happened.

I went to shul. It was all the way across Paris. I got there right on schedule, I had no problem changing trains, and I found the building right away. There were armed guards in front of the shul. It was nice and comforting to see armed soldiers guarding the shul. Not. To get in the building you had to pass through the guards, and the wanted to see my passport, and to ask why I was there. Um, because it's Rosh Hashonah and I want to be with my people, dumbass. After looking over my visa and chatting amongst themselves, they let me in.


But by the time I had gotten there, the regular woman's balcony was full and the rest of the women were crammed into this tiny upstairs room where we couldn't see or hear pretty much anything. Not that anyone listened. The women chattered like they were at the market. They didn't pay attention to one second of the service. The only thing that stopped them from chatting was when the Torah was briefly brought to a corner of the room to be kissed. Otherwise, blah blah blah. It was so annoying. I really wanted to hear the service. You go to a foreign country, you want to hear how they do the HH services.


The women had quite a field day trying to figure out who and what I was about. I was dressed frum, more frum than they were. My hair was not covered. I had nice jewelry. I obviously knew the service. I could sing much of the niggunim. But who was I? Much discussion ensued until I finally told them I was an American that was visiting. Oh, an American! O la la! Did I know? No, I didn't. WHY do all Jews think we all know each other?

While I was having a fine time in shul, chatting with the French hens, poor Dawn was wandering around Paris completely freaked out.

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2 Comments:

Blogger JaniceNW said...

How can anyone be scared of strangers? I could talk to a wooden post if I had to. Strangers can be the raddest people around. So many stories, so many lives. Fun stuff for some of us mosre adventurous out going types.

29/7/07 3:38 AM  
Blogger Major Bedhead said...

Well, if you can't speak the language and you don't understand the money, I can see how you'd be a bit nervous. That said, if I was that nervous, I don't think I would have ventured out too far.

29/7/07 11:17 PM  

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