Big Water

Three countries. Three languages. Trés Fronteras. Puerto Iguazú, Argentina is home to 65,000 people, with a downtown so small you can hardly call this place a city. Yet this town is central to the allure of South America. It is home to the national park which bears the same name, and the famous Iguazú Falls. 

With all this in mind, let’s begin with the three countries. Puerto Iguazú sits on the Rio Iguazú, quite literally on the northeast tip of Argentina. To the north and west, one will find Paraguay, and to the east, Brazil. The river is the border, and at the edge of town where the river splits in two, Puerto Iguazú has built the Trés Fronteras monument, hosting the flags of the three friendly nations, and a viewpoint from which one can see them all. I visited in the evening as the sun was dipping below the horizon, so I can only claim to have seen it in the dark- though I am sure the daytime view is more spectacular. Due to the lighting, the best photo I have to share is actually from the next morning out my hotel window- not quite at the monument, but all three nations are still clearly visible. On the right hand side of the river: Brazil. At the end, the fork and Paraguayan land are visible. And of course, the land the hotel sits on is Argentinian. One of our guides, Maria, explained that although the Paraguayan town on the other side of the border is closer, in order to get there one must go through Brazil. And to top it all off, both nations require visas for Argentinian citizens to enter. The US and Canada, this border is not. 

Travel east from town for around 20 minutes, and you will arrive at Parque Nacional Iguazú, the home of the world famous Iguazú Falls. This brings us to the three languages: you see, while Brazil is the only nation in South America which speaks Portuguese, and Argentina obviously officially speaks Spanish, Paraguay is a little different. Here, in this less-touristed, landlocked, bean-shaped nation, the majority of the people speak a language called Guarani. This makes Paraguay the only nation on earth to list a native language as official, and from my research, the only one where a majority of the population speaks the single native language in question. Why is this important, you ask? An important question, given that Argentina hosts 80% of the Falls, and Brazil the other 20%. Iguazú is, as you may have guessed, a Guarani word, meaning “Big Water.” Fitting, as these Falls constitute the largest system of waterfalls in the world: 2.7 kilometers long, with 275 individual cascades crashing down the Rio Iguazú.

Our day here was unfortunately cloudy and somewhat rainy, so I cannot claim to have seen the best views of these Falls. What I can confirm, though, is that this place is awe-inspiring. The walk alone to view the Falls would be enough for me to recommend visitors come see this place. A man-made, metal-grated pathway takes visitors from an open-air, tourist-style train through the rainforest, from island to island, and finally, to the viewpoint known as the Devil’s Throat. This is the most famous of the viewing decks, and allows visitors to look straight down the Falls, to the misty continuation of this fast-moving river. There are multiple other paths visitors can walk, all viewing different areas of the Falls system. I walked only two in total, and can confirm they are spectacular.

There is one other thing visitors should be wary of: animals, similar to raccoons but with an anteater-esque snout. They are called Coatis, and if they weren’t so aggressive I would almost call them cute. They have become accustomed to humans, and while they sometimes walk the railings of the paths visitors take to the Falls, they are far more common at two of the three train stations in the park. This is because each station has a small shop for snacks, and these animals love stealing food. Case in point: I bought a pack of chocolate wafers, and made the grave error of opening them while waiting for the train. Within seconds, I heard a chorus of squeaks, looked down, and saw a Coati heading for me. As I learned later, a human clapping their hands will scare them away, but I chose to slowly back away while trying to scare it with my feet. This did not work, and one of them even scavenged the floor of our train before finally being forced off. Locals call them pests, and now I know why. 

So was the Big Water worth it? Absolutely. Would I prefer to come again, in order to see it in the sun? Also, absolutely. After a day in the jungle, I’ve spent today in Mendoza, near the border with Chile and its capital, Santiago. Here, I’ve been touring the places this city is known best for: wineries, producing Argentina’s signature Malbec reds. Keep a lookout for that post soon (after the effects have wound down, of course), and a wrap-up a few days after I arrive back in the United States. Until then, I’ll leave you the way nearly everyone in this country does: Ciao!

The Best of the Rest, Buenos Aires

The last few days have been packed. We have explored so much of this incredible city in so little time, so this post is all about a few highlights. Before I get to that though, I need to give you a little history and information. The settlement that would become Buenos Aires is over 400 years old. Founded by Spanish conquistadors, it was originally built as a base for what they hoped would be a mining operation that would make Spain rich. The name “Argentina” even comes from the Latin word “Argento,” meaning “Silver.” The conquistadors believed this land held uncountable amounts of precious metal, but they were slightly off: the silver deposits can be found in what is today northern Argentina, along its borders with Peru, Paraguay, and Brazil.

As the city grew, it attracted immigrants of countless nationalities, ethnicities, and religions. Though 90% of the country today is Catholic (only 30% actually practice), there are sizable minorities of Muslims (almost entirely in Buenos Aires) and nearly half a million Jews. On the nationality front, Buenos Aires is home to tens of thousands of citizens descended from Italian immigrants, and the country is home to many descendants of Germans as well (more on that later).

In the 1800s, as Buenos Aires was becoming the city we know today, there was a lot to think about. Would the city grow haphazardly, with barrio (neighborhood) lines being drawn seemingly at random? Or would it be organized and deliberate? City government officials chose the second. Buenos Aires at the time was home to a sizable wealthy elite population, and their mark can be felt as one walks around the city. The Avenida 9 de Julio (named for Argentina’s independence date) is one of the widest in the world, and plopped right in the center is a massive obelisk- think a smaller version of the Washington Monument in DC. With bus lanes taking up the center of the avenue and trees separating them from the four lanes of cars on each side, this avenue was deliberately deigned to evoke the Champs Elysées in Paris. In fact, the city was- and to some extent still is- known as the “Paris of South America.” One can see this in the architecture for sure, but the European influence is also felt on every corner, as you’ll find thousands of small cafés with citizens taking it slow, catching up with friends, or just watching the world go by.

Perhaps there is one piece of culture that comes to mind more than anything else when you hear the name of Buenos Aires: Tango. Yes, that most famous of dances, and for good reason. Tango’s history is complex, long, and speaks to the diversity of La Ciudad Autonoma de Buenos Aires. Tango grew out of the European styles of dance, and yes, song, brought to the city by the various groups of immigrants. A major influence is Portugal’s Fado style: a slower, somber, almost wistful style of music, which mixed with dances and lyrical styles from Spain, Italy, and other areas. This mixture created a graceful and romantic dance, which at the same time evokes a sense of longing for something which cannot be grasped. Although the style is associated with Argentina as a whole, one will not find it outside the borders of Buenos Aires as a consequence of its origins. My grandmother and I were very lucky to attend a show, as well as receive a lesson in basic tango, at a parlor called La Ventana in the neighborhood of San Telmo. Our teacher, Diana, was very impressed! While hearing the words “you both are very good!” from a professional tango dancer is high praise, I would venture to say no one should be looking out for us on stage anytime soon. 

My grandmother and I also had the chance to visit another relic of the elite in Buenos Aires: the Teatro Colón. This 100+ year old theater is widely recognized as one of the five best theaters in the world for its acoustics. Built of marble from Italy, France, and other regions of Western Europe, it is flush with fine art. Busts of famous musicians line one of the halls, while the Golden Hall is coated with, you guessed it, gold. Entering the main auditorium, the acoustics were explained to us in detail. The lower half of the theater has copious amounts of wood and velvet, which help dampen the sound coming from the stage. The upper half, meanwhile, used materials such as iron in order to help reflect the sound and make it louder. Another major piece is that under each non-box seat, one will find a small metal grate. When the theater was painstakingly restored (using exactly the same materials for fear of ruining the acoustics), workers added air conditioning through these vents. Originally though, and still today, these vents were used to assist the sound-dampening. The open-air space under the grate helped the wooden floor act as a dampener for sound, rather than an amplifier as it would have if the wood was laid directly on top of a hard floor. The final stroke of genius is the stage itself: the dimensions of the stage are exactly the same as the dimensions of the main hall, meaning the sound is reflecting into the same space it originates from. All of this means that even though the sound has to travel further to reach some areas, every seat hears the performance at the same volume.

The final highlight from Buenos Aires is an area I mentioned briefly in my first post: La Boca (the mouth). Why is it called The Mouth, you ask? Because it sits at the mouth of the Matanza river, of course! Today this neighborhood is home to a thriving arts scene in places, but it wasn’t always this way. In the beginning, La Boca was a working class neighborhood, and it retains this character on most streets today. The colorful, tin-walled houses of La Caminito in the center of the neighborhood may be the tourist draw, but they are not typical of the area anymore. Those multicolored houses were painted that way not out of hope that one day their residents might make money off of tourists coming to see them, but, as with many working class neighborhoods, out of necessity. Without money to buy paint, residents took it from the natural place that a riverside neighborhood would: the local shipyard. When a ship arrived in port, residents would receive any leftover paint the ship had brought on the journey. Run out of paint? Wait until the next ship. Different colored ships meant different colored paint, hence the mosaic-like nature of La Caminito.

However, I went back to La Boca for one reason, and one reason only. Boca Juniors, and their world famous home: La Bombonera. This 55,000 seat stadium is a temple of world fútbol, and a pilgrimage here is a necessity for anyone who calls themselves a fan of the Beautiful Game. La Bombonera is known for its shape: a horseshoe, with one long side a 90 degree wall of seats. This is because when it was built, the team could not buy the land or buildings which sat across the street, so they made-do by building the fourth side of the stadium as a literal wall of seats. Boca Juniors are known for many things: Champions of Argentina for many years, Champions of South America at times. More famous than any trophy, however, is a man who competes with Brazil’s Pelé as the best fútbol player the world has ever seen; a player so well-versed in the art form we call a sport: Diego Maradona. 

Diego Armando Maradona was born in Lanús, Buenos Aires Province, in 1960. He was born to poor parents, the first son after three daughters and the fourth of six children. His soccer career began early, as he was spotted playing neighborhood soccer at age eight, and joined the youth team of Argentinos Juniors. He made his professional debut before turning 16, and two weeks after turning 16 scored his first professional goal. After five years with Argentinos Juniors, he signed with Boca Juniors in 1981. His time at Boca was marked by distrust between himself and Boca’s manager, bu despite this the team managed to win the Argentine league title- the only club title he would win in his native country. In 1982, after the world cup, Maradona set the world record transfer fee when he was sold to FC Barcelona, where he would become the first player to be applauded by rival Real Madrid fans. His career with the Argentina National Team, however, is how most remember him. His debut at age 16 made him an immediate sensation, and his famous match against England in the 1986 World Cup cemented his legend with the famous “Hand of God” goal, as well as his second- what would be voted later as the Goal of the Century by FIFA. As a player, and later as a coach, Diego Maradona has clearly left his mark on La Boca, Argentina, and the world of soccer.

Buenos Aires today is a truly cosmopolitan city. Home to three million people, it is as hectic as New York City, parts of it are as beautiful as Paris, and (I can confirm this from personal experience), every person on the road drives more aggressively than Tel Aviv. I will truly miss it, and would not be surprised to find myself walking those cobblestoned streets again in the future. As I post this, we have just ended our only day in El Calafate, Santa Cruz Province- otherwise known as the region of Patagonia. This town is the gateway to Argentina’s Parque Nacional Los Glaciares (Glacier National Park), and my grandmother and I came here to explore a small part of its most famous sheet of ice: the Perito Moreno Glacier. Keep an eye out for that post soon!

Bienvenidos! Argentina, Day 1

“Bienvenidos a la Argentina!” proclaimed the sign on the wall as we stepped off the plane. Five hours of sleep couldn’t stop my excitement from shining through.My grandmother and I breezed through passport control and customs, but struggled with the simplest thing: finding our guide.  Eventually, after 15 minutes of searching the sea of signs, we found our man. He took us outside, and as we stepped into the fresh Argentinian morning, it struck me just how not-different it felt. Other than the Spanish everywhere, I felt none of the nervousness I had felt going to Europe the summer before. My wanderlust certainly hadn’t dissipated, but I feel as though I’ve gotten used to traveling more, used to being in places where English is not the native tongue, and in a way, gotten used to the world around me not being as I am used to. 

After checking in at the hotel in Buenos Aires, we began exploring. First, lunch at La Biela, a café not three blocks from the hotel which had been suggested by our guide. As my grandmother and I sat and ate lunch outside, we marveled at the perfect weather, the atmosphere (minus the pigeons), and the park next to which we were seated. After lunch, a quick 30-second jaunt across said park brought us to the gates to the Cementerio de la Recoleta, the world-famous above-ground cemetery which features the exquisitely-carved mausoleums of countless wealthy and important figures in Argentine history. It hosts the final resting places of 33 former Argentine presidents, as well as countless wealthy families who paid between $80,000 and $100,000 for their mausoleums.

But perhaps the most famous Argentine who rests here is Eva Perón, the universally-adored wife of Argentine dictator Juan Perón. Born into poverty, Eva’s rise to prominence inspired the 1976 musical Evita!, titled with the nickname used by working class Argentinians who comprised her base of support. Evita’s passion for labor rights, her work as leader of the Ministries of both Labor and Health, and her leadership in championing women’s suffrage in Argentina endeared her to the people, which explains why, while Juan Perón is nearly-universally loathed for his time as dictator, Evita is still nearly-universally adored, 67 years after her death from cervical cancer. 

Evita’s death spun all of Argentina into shock. Radio broadcasts were interrupted, movies cut short, and restaurants closed mid-meal. The government shut down for two days, and ordered flags flown at half-staff for the next ten days. Her body lay in state for two weeks at the Ministry of Labor, and porteños (residents of Buenos Aires) bought so many flowers that every shop in the city had run out within 24 hours of her death; flowers continued to be flown in  from elsewhere in the country, and even as far away as Chile.

Leaving Evita and the cemetery behind, my grandmother and I journeyed via taxi to the Museo Judío de Buenos Aires, which includes the Libertad Synagogue. This building, begun in 1897, is home to the Congregación Israelita de la República de Argentina. It was the first synagogue built in Buenos Aires, and is still in use today for regular services and events. Rebuilt in 1932, it is a monument to a Jewish community whose existence has not always been assured. The bombings of the Israeli Embassy in Buenos Aires (1992) and AMIA – Asociación Mutual Israelita Argentina bombing (1994) serve as a stark reminder that simply being actively and vocally Jewish requires bravery and commitment even today.

Our last stop for day one was the Obelisk in downtown Buenos Aires on one of the largest avenues in the world: Avenida 9 Julio. Unveiled in 1936, it commemorated 400 years since the founding of Buenos Aires. While I did not get to make my way to the top (though who knows, maybe another day), the amount of time I had to wait in order to get the perfect photo proves how central this monument is to the identity of the city. 

As we rounded out the first day in Argentina, I knew I would be consistently surprised. The energy of this city, the architecture, history, and food which fill every street and every corner is almost overwhelming in the best way possible. As I write this, we have just finished up a three-hour-long city tour which showed us a few more highlights of this incredible metropolis, and I couldn’t be more excited. Stay tuned for that post!

80 Years of Broken Glass

80 years. That’s how long it has been since Kristallnacht. Since the Night of Broken Glass which forever altered the trajectory of the Jewish people. 80 years since Jewish shops had windows smashed and goods stolen, since we had our livelihoods taken from us and our synagogues burned to the ground. 80 years since the death and attempted erasure of hundreds and hundreds of years of Jewish history in Europe.

 

And still today. Our people are murdered in a synagogue in Pittsburgh that was not burned down, but instead desecrated by the actions of an anti-Semite with a gun, who chose to spill Jewish blood in that holiest of Jewish spaces. While anti-Semitism continues to be the cause of over half of all hate crimes against religious and ethnic minorities in the United States, our neighbors stand by and erase the anti-Semitism from these actions. They call it “gun violence” or “a mass shooting,” ignoring the fact that Jews have faced these dangers since before the invention of the gun.

 

So to my Jewish brothers and sisters: We are all one community. We must always stand together, arm in arm, and shout from the rooftops that our lives and our experiences of hatred and attacks against us cannot- WILL NOT- be overlooked. We must demand to be included in activism for disadvantaged and assaulted minorities. We must demand that there are no conditions attached to that inclusion. We must fight to ensure that our experience is valid, that our voices are heard, and that no person, no government, and no hate can take that voice away.

 

To my non-Jewish brothers and sisters: You must do your part. Stand with us, link arms with us, and add your voices to ours to say “ALL hate, including hate against Jews, has no home in this world.” Include us in your activism. Ask us how to ensure you don’t disrespect or incorrectly use our history or our traditions. Police yourself. Call out those among you who attach conditions to the inclusion of Jews and no one else. Support us with the same fire and fury you support all other minority communities.

 

Because 80 years from now, I do not want to tell my grandchildren that the United States once turned away ships full of Jewish refugees as they approached a Statue of Liberty upon whose base is inscribed a poem by a Sephardi Jewish Woman. I do not want to tell my grandchildren that just decades afterward, this country erased the Jewish experience from the murder of Jews in a synagogue. I do not want to tell my grandchildren that we were forced to renounce our support for our homeland in order to be included in the activism of others. I want to tell them that after Kristallnacht, we mourned. And after Pittsburgh, we mourned too. I want to tell them that after so much hate and death and destruction and blood, that finally, finally, Jews were saved.

Twenty-Fun!

I know, I know, it’s a corny title. And most people will read this and think, “what’s so special about turning 21? You’ve been legal since May!” Both of those things are true: I HAVE been legal since May, and the title IS corny. But this is 21, so forgive me my jokes. Turning 21 a week before I leave Israel has given me a chance to reflect on most of my summer internship, and due to a three-day weekend, explore a little bit more of Israel’s north.

I have to start by acknowledging the fact that one of my friends from university (who for privacy reasons will remain nameless) flew all the way to Israel for a week to celebrate with me. Working through the process of booking flights and helping her understand travel in Israel made me realize how lucky I am to have friends who are willing and able to literally fly halfway across the world for me. And then there are the friends I’ve made while on this program in Haifa- my core group (who will also remain nameless) who explored Israel with me and truly made this past weekend one to remember.

Thursday night, my office had an event until about 10 PM, so I took my friend from the US to the office with me for it. As the office regularly does, we hosted a cultural night with all of the current course participants so we could all get a taste of each others’ music and dance. After a few hours of food and cultural exchange, we returned to the apartment in downtown Haifa and rang in 21 at one of the many restaurants in the area. The next morning, we dragged ourselves out of bed for the trip to Tel Aviv.

Traveling to Tel Aviv should be simple, but on this day it was decidedly not. Due to Orthodox Jews controlling the Transportation Ministry in Israel, the national railway is not allowed to operate trains or carry out repair work on Shabbat. This meant that all throughout Friday, crews were repairing a stretch of track between Binyamina and Hadera, causing disruption of service to Tel Aviv. Rather than comfortably sitting on the train for an hour and a half, we were herded on to shuttle busses at Binyamina and back onto a new train at Hadera. Frustratingly, this added nearly an hour to our trip, and we found ourselves arriving in Tel Aviv much later than we wanted.

We made a stop at the Sarona Market for lunch- one of my favorite places in the city. As my friend described it when we entered, “This feels so much like New York it’s scary.” All I’ll say in response is, they don’t call Tel Aviv the Little Apple for nothing. Sarona has plenty of chain stores in a park-like setting, but the main hall is purely focused on food and built into a set of very modern glass high-rises. Walking through, you pass cheese shops, pastry bakeries, and plenty of miniature restaurants of all flavors. We chose a simple seafood restaurant, and enjoyed the people-watching before continuing to our hotels.

Due to the half-hour walking distance between our group’s hotels, it was nearly dinner time by the time we checked in and met up. So we headed to the hotel’s rooftop pool to get a view of the city, and at 7:00 when it closed down, we enjoyed the beach for an hour before deciding to find dinner. This particular birthday dinner consisted of a well-known Israeli burger chain called Agadir. The burgers are good, but I personally would recommend the drinks- and I’m not just saying that because I’m legal! Although I must say we saved the best for last- a beachfront bar (literally on the sand) to close out the night with some music, friends, and an amazing atmosphere.

Saturday was similarly lazy, with the majority of the day spent on the beach. The water may be warm, but thousands of people means the water isn’t exactly clean- you’d be surprised how much trash washes up on the shores of the Mediterranean. After each of us was sufficiently sunburned and had had enough of the warm water, sun, and frisbee, we packed up and headed to lunch at a small café on the way south to Yafo (Jaffa). Once there, we explored the oldest part of the city, walked through Yafo’s famed flea market- which, though the shops were closed, had plenty of restaurants open and packed- and visited the Smiling Whale statue which represents the story of Jonah and the Whale, thought to have taken place in this very city. We finished our day in one of the hilly parks near the sea’s edge in Yafo, where a band was preparing for a free concert. Unfortunately, due to our train back to Haifa, we could not stay for the performance. As soon as the busses began to run again, we caught one to the train station and headed home to Haifa.

Sunday, Onward gave us a day off from work, and we took the opportunity to explore more of Israel’s north. We hopped back on the train and headed right to the border with Lebanon to visit a small national park: the Rosh HaNikra Grottos. The park consists of 200+ meters of tunnels through grottos carved by the sea into the white-chalk cliffs. Access to the grottos is via the world’s shortest and steepest (60 degrees) cable car. While the walk through the grottos is no more than 30 minutes, the views are spectacular and well worth a visit.

Post-Grottos, we caught the train slightly south to the city of Akko. Nearly 50,000 people live in this mixed city- small by some standards, but outsized in its importance. The city is the holiest place for the Baha’i faith, and is home to a mixed and peaceful population of Jews, Muslims, Christians, Druze, and Baha’i. The city is old even by Middle Eastern standards- records indicate it has been continuously inhabited for 4,000 years, since the Bronze Age. As we entered the Old City, we took the opportunity to beeline straight for a hummus shop for an incredible and mouth-watering lunch of hummus and meat, combined with onions, tomato, tahini, and multitudes of other fresh vegetables.

Akko is famous for its rare (in Israel) natural harbor, but also for its Templar history. The Old City is host to the Citadel, which was built during early Ottoman times on the foundations of the original Knights Hospitaller fortification and includes the Knights Halls and Underground Prisoner Museum. 

Better known may be the Templar Tunnels, a 350-meter long relic of the late 1100s. The builders could never have known this, but after the end of the Templars, the tunnel would not be discovered until 1994. For the most part it is tall enough for someone my height to walk, though there were portions where even my much shorter friends had to duck their heads. Surprisingly, the site is accessible for those with physical disabilities, as there are small elevators build into the entrance. Unclear on if there was more than one tunnel (there turned out to be only one), we spent the next 45 minutes wandering the city’s streets and shuk, passing by the harbor on the way. There were many more places we did not have a chance to visit, and you could easily spend a day here exploring. But as the sun began to set and our feet began to beg for a break, we headed back to the train and returned to Haifa.