Rosh Hashannah Paris Edition

    There's no time of  year that'll make a girl quite as homesick as the holidays.  Even though I've been at school during the High Holidays for the last two years, I'm always nostalgic for the arguments about when to go to synagogue and the look from my mother that says, "are you really wearing that?"  This year, being a lot farther away from home (and in a somewhat anti-Semitic country), I was concerned that I would be more homesick than usual for brisket and shofars. 

What is appetizing about gefilte fish?

     Luckily, I was placed with a Jewish family in Paris, so I knew I would at least be able to celebrate the holiday.  After an exhausting day of class, I arrived home at around 7:30pm knowing I'd have to perk up to meet the extended family who had already arrived.  I put my backpack down in my room, ran a brush through my hair (Grandma Rho would be proud) and went outside to meet the family.  I was promptly handed a shot of honey flavored vodka.  Suddenly, the night wasn't looking so long.  After hors d'oeurves, a delicious combination of bread, spreads (the eggplant spread was my favorite), pastrami and more vodka, we went inside to say the blessings over the challah, wine, and apples dipped in honey.  It made me laugh a little to hear the Hebrew blessings spoken in overwhelmingly French accents.  I really never considered how Fre-brew would sound, but it was definitely a funny surprise.  After the blessings, we had a fish course of smoked salmon and gefilte fish (and, of course, wine).  When I told my host mother that I'm not a huge fan of gefilte fish, I heard the all too familiar phrase, "just try some."  Suddenly, I realized that I'm hardly a world away from the Rosh Hashannahs I grew up with, I was right back at Jewish holidays past, explaining, for the millionth time, that gefilte fish creeps me out.  The fish course was followed by the main course: brisket, potato kugel, kasha and some more wine.  I felt right at home.  There were only two changes to the menu I'm used to, duck, instead of chicken, and tongue.  Fortunately, no one forced me to try the tongue.  Stuffed, I was not thrilled when the dessert course immediately followed dinner.  Even though I tried to just have some fruit, pieces of cheesecake and honey cake were piled on my plate, despite my not-so-convincing protests.  Everything was delicious.  It was funny that not only the food made me feel at home, but the company too.
     From this experience, I learned that it really does not take a room full of Jews very long to start talking about Israel.  I don't think we had been eating hors d'oeurves for five minutes when the topic came up.  The conversation was eerily similar to ones I've had with my own family: the younger generation more liberal than the older generation.  My oldest host brother, Jonathan, lives in Turkey but came home to celebrate the holiday.  He was grilled on Turkish-Israeli relations by his uncle.  Everyone had an opinion, most of them different, and by the end of the night I don't think we were able to draw any conclusions.  I feel like that's probably an accurate summary of any conversation I've ever had with my family.  My host father gave a toast, worthy of my dad's usual toasts at family dinners.  He began with a quotation about Jews from Leo Tolstoy and continued to talk about the importance of being Jewish in the modern world.  It was a really nice toast, especially when my host brother, Alexi, whipped out his iPhone, found a version of Aleinu at the iTunes store and played it on repeat as his father spoke.  The night was filled with a lot of laughter and happiness, family just happy that they could be together on a holiday.  It was bittersweet to be a part of the Rosh Hashannah celebration this year.  I was so grateful that my host family welcomed me in their celebration of the new year, but sad that I could not spend it with my own family.  Regardless, I found comfort in the fact that no matter where I am in the world, I can eat some brisket and fight about Israel.