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March 31, 2006
A seder in far-flung Patagonia
Jews gather at the bottom of the world for expansive Pesach celebrations
at hotel.
ROBIN ESROCK
Bariloche, Argentina
So, where are you doing the seder?" asked my mother, on the
other end of the crackly speakers on my computer. Travelling to
24 countries on five continents, I usually only worried about where
to sleep and where to eat and what to do, but now I had to worry
about where to seder, too.
I had just arrived in Patagonia, a beautiful region of Argentina,
blessed with sparkling blue lakes, snow-capped mountains and forests
on fire with the colors of fall.
My plan was to find a shul and hopefully meet someone who would
invite a wandering Jew home for Pesach. I had tried to do something
similar in La Paz, Bolivia, but the homey service at the highest
synagogue in the world did not lead to any home-cooked Shabbos chicken
soup.
Here in the town of Bariloche, I did not have to go looking for
the seder. Instead, it found me. There are hundreds of young Israelis
travelling throughout South America – so many, in fact, that
many hotels and restaurants cater specifically to them. Hebrew signs
can be found in every tourist area and some youth hostels are known
in traveller circles, unfortunately, as Israeli ghettos. I stayed
at one such place in the town of St. Martin, and the owner, an Israeli
himself, would only admit me after I convinced him I was Jewish.
All the Israelis I have met regret that such a situation exists,
but it is nevertheless a reality.
One of these was Shahar from Tel-Aviv, and it was she who told me
about what must be one of the most remarkable seders anywhere in
the world.
The five-star Llao Llao Hotel outside Patagonia is widely regarded
as the best hotel in Argentina and among the world's most beautiful.
Nestled against the dramatic mountains of the Andes, adjacent to
a lush natural reserve and a crystal lake, the Llao Llao (pronounced
Shau Shau) attracts an elite, international clientele. Ma nishtama
ha'laila hazeh? (What makes this night different?) For this
night, the Llao Llao invited more than 400 travelling Israelis,
and a handful of Jews like myself, for a service and complimentary
seder.
"You have to fax through your passport," explained Shahar,
and then call to confirm. She found out about it on an Israeli travel
site, for this was the seventh year that the Llao Llao had opened
itself up for us well-travelled, jeans-clad, but very enthusiastic
guests.
The temperature had plummeted by the time we arrived by bus at the
hotel. The sun was setting behind the granite-spired mountains,
casting a reflection on the lake. I arrived with the first group
of Israelis, together with a Jewish girl from north London. We showed
our passports to guards at the first checkpoint, walked past another
and found an airport X-ray machine, guards with wands and officials
checking our passports against a list. Security was tight, a sad
reality even in such a beautiful setting as this. Through the necessary
hurdles, we entered the magnificent hotel. For eight days, the hotel
closes to normal guests, becomes fully kosher and caters to a Jewish
clientele who come from around the world to enjoy Pesach with their
families. The owner of the hotel is Jewish, and this tradition in
itself is remarkable. Inside the rich, wooden interior were religious
families, Lubavitchers and smartly dressed couples. All were about
to be joined by hundreds of backpackers speaking Hebrew.
"Seven years ago, I was hiking and came across a group of Israelis,"
explained Eduardo Elsztain, the man responsible for this most unusual
event. "I invited them back to the hotel for seder, but they
didn't believe I was Jewish! I threatened to pull down my pants
and prove it!" he laughed with a warm smile. The following
year, there were 25, then 50, then 150. Now, there are 400 Israelis
at what was surely the largest seder anyone here had ever been to.
The siddurs, in Hebrew and Spanish, reminded me I was in Argentina
and not in Israel. And the service, what a scene! Singing and dancing
and clapping, the men snaking through the converted hall –
dreadlocks followed by tzitztit followed by Savile Row. The sheer
diversity of attire – hiking boots and leather shoes, piercings
and ties, created a surreal, but very moving, experience.
At the conclusion of the service, we exited the hotel's theatre,
which in 45 minutes was converted into a makeshift dining hall.
The hotel's guests went to the traditional dining room, and it was
not until 10 p.m. that all the travellers were seated and ready
to start the seder. Besides myself and Jackie from London, there
was only one other non-Israeli in the room, a girl from the United
States. Eduardo, who is also chairman of IRSA, Argentina's largest
real estate company, gave a moving welcome speech.
"Your energy is vital for this hotel, for it is just a building,"
he said. "Our guests are all commenting that your presence
has made their Pesach extra-special. It is my wish that this energy
you bring tonight will return with you home, and perhaps one day
there will seders like this all over Israel!"
The seder was led by a young, highly enthusiastic rabbi and a representative
from each of the 30-odd tables stood up to read a portion of the
Haggadah. Hearing a chorus of hundreds of excited, not to mention
hungry, travellers singing "Ma Nishtama" and "Dayeinu"
induced goosebumps. A seder plate lay on every table, together with
grape juice and matzah. Rumors that whoever found the afikomen would
win a free night at the hotel proved unfounded, but it didn't matter
– spirits were high. We started our meal at midnight, which
is normal in a town where locals usually eat out at about 11 p.m.
Smartly clad waiters served up salad, soup and chicken. Yuval, who
keeps kosher, couldn't contain himself. "I haven't eaten any
meat for months!" he declared.
I stood up to offer my own thanks, to Eduardo and to the Israelis
for travelling so prolifically. "If it wasn't for you,"
I said, "I wouldn't have found this amazing seder. And that,
let me assure you all, makes my mother very happy!"
Robin Esrock is a freelance travel writer and regular
contributor to the Vancouver Sun. You can read about his
adventures at www.moderngonzo.com.
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