The Shul in Krasnodar

Just realized we never posted a picture.

Something for us to look forward to...

A day in Pyatigorsk

Pyatigorsk.

A beautiful, very European city, yet full of different characters which makes you feel as though you landed in Western Asia. Mountains can be seen all around it, including the 5 mountains which give the city its name. Mount Elbrus, the tallest mountain in Europe, can be seen in the distance, along with rest of the Kavkaz, which look alot like the Alps.

I traveled there today for just the second time since I've been here (the first was to visit Rabbi Shertil Shalumov, a mountain Jew, and the Rabbi of the city).

I was going to take the bus there, but then I got a good deal on a taxi (just 1500 rubles) and got a nice quiet drive in the comfortable seats of the car, where I lay down and slept.

The reason I was going was because of the Sachnut (an organization with a goal to deal children around the world about Israel, and eventually have everyone make Aliya. They employ locals to do the teaching). The guy in charge of the Sachnut in South Russia, an Israeli named Lev, was in Pyatigorsk for the day, and I agreed to meet him upon the request of Natasha, the very nice lady who runs the Sachnut in Stavropol, and has helped us many times during our rough patches and early days here.

The Sachnut of Pyatigorsk is located next to the city theatre, and I was picked up and brought to its spacious offices by Misha, their driver. There I met Lev, and we sat down to chat.

Basically he told me (some of this is not his words) that the Sachnut in Russia has also been hit bad by the economic crisis (several people have told me that they are closing shop all over Russia... virtually everywhere). He suggested that we rent a place together, or rather, that we rent a place, and Natasha would technically 'rent' a room or two from us, and use our place as an address for the Sachnut. He explained that the Sachnut's all over Russia are being asked to try and join with the other Jewish organizations in the city (which probably is very hard in other cities, considering all the built up animosity between organizations that vie for control, as is usual for Jewish communities around the world). They tried to work with Yefim (community president who has been giving everyone a hard time), but he refuses.

My opinion? first off, regarding the entire Russia, this is good for the Chabad Rabbonim around Russia, since most of their competition will be gone, allowing them to focus on their work.

As for Stavropol, I gladly welcome Natasha and would love to work together with her. Aside from the fact that she has helped us and is a genuinely kind and competent person whom the community adores, it is also better for the community. Yefim is probably losing his funding from Moscow (I won't get into that now, but it is good news, since he has only abused his power), and this means that all Jewish organizations are under one roof.

The community is bigger than myself (or rather, myself and Chayale). Yes, we are here to focus on Yiddishkeit, but the truth is that we cannot help everyone, and the more Jewish organizations that exist here which can offer services and simply be there for people, the better.

The advantages:

- We can reach out to more people
- Working together with her means that she will introduce us to the community and we will meet more faces
- Not only will our organization be completely kosher, but so will the Sachnut! (a condition of them working with us)
- At least the people going to Israel will know a little about Yiddishkeit
- Less stress in the long run
- Instead of focusing on who we are NOT, we can focus on who we are, and try to get a Synagogue going.

That's my opinion.

Also in Pyatigorsk, I put Tefillin on a mountain Jew (Lev had already wrapped himself up that morning), and spoke to the head of the 'Joint' of South Russia, which gives food to old people in Russia, and also wants to work together.

Now I'm back home. I cannot go outside tonight (not that I would) because the police called a curfew saying that there are dangerous people around tonight and everyone should be vigilant and stay indoors.

Stavropol.

From a real turkish newspaper

http://www.dunyabulteni.net/news_detail.php?id=60605

See the second to last picture.

Help a child with leukemia

Alexander Feldman, 2 years old, has cancer. Boruch Hashem it isn't bad, and is easily treatable with chemotherapy and vitamins. But his father Denis, a member of the Jewish community of Stavropol is out of a job, and now literally has no food to put on the table.

I want to raise enough money to get the child through the year, and to do that I need to find someone who can give an 11,500 dollars donation.

Anyone know of anyone?

The picture is of Denis and Alexander.

My little brother makes it (somewhat) big

http://chabad.info/index.php?url=article_en&id=13242

Chaim's bed

Just a picture.

Governor Gaievsky's Jubilee

This past Thursday was the new governor of Stavropol Krai's birthday. His 50th birthday, hence his 'Jubilee'.

Ari Edelkopf, shliach to Sochi, shared this information with me, and suggested I send him a card and a gift.

At first, I decided not to do this, since I wanted to deliver the Menorah I have for him personally, but then we found a wonderful present given to us by friends in Montreal who were in Israel... A Chamsa with Birkas Habayis on it.

So my secretary bought a big card, and we wrapped up the Chamsa in a nice gift bag that we had bought in New Jersey.

We deliberated alot over what to write. My suggestion was:

"Esteemed majestic and honored governor may you live to 120,

Congratulations on your Jubilee! I'm sure you know that the word 'Jubilee' cmes from the Hebrew word 'Yovel', in which every 50 years all land was returned to it's proper owner in ancient Israel. Therefore, in recognition of YOUR Jubilee, we request the return of the Stavropol Synagogue to it's proper owner."

Unfortunately, my plan was vetoed, and you can read above what we eventually wrote.

We brought it to the 'Duma', and dropped it off with a Jew who works in the governors office, and prmosied to give it to Mr. Gaievsky.

The worst thing about shlichus in Russia

Here's a picture I found from last years Chanuka event for the kids.

Being a Rabbi in a Russian city is difficult nowadays, and for many reasons.

- Barely any kosher food
- Anti-Semitism is occassinally tangible (and swastikas are all over)
- The closest Rabbi/friend is a 5 hour drive
- Your entire family and most of your friends are in a different time zone
- With the current economic crisis, we are barely funded
- We must leave every 3 months for at least a month (it's impossible to get residency)
- Any peulos you do are taken for granted
- In order to survive you must learn the art of bribery

But the worst by far, the hardest thing about Russian shlichus occured this past shabbos, when we had an entire family over for the meal.

I had met the teenaged son over the internet, and he had assured me that his mother was Jewish from 'her mother' (meaning that the family were Halachic Jews).

When I called them to invite them, I found out that they also had a daughter of preschool age. Now I was really excited. A teenager and a little girl!

Friday we both prepared for the meal. Chayale made one of the most delicious dinners ever (including a dessert that was out of this world), and I prepared a bunch of Dvar Torahs.

They came, and we had a wonderful time. Singing, chatting, telling over some words of Torah. The family was totally normal. They were obviously well-off, and enjoyed the meal.

We were really excited that we had found another Jewish family to introduce to the community (they didn't know there was an established community here in Stavropol).

But then as they left, the mother gave Chayale a hug, and in middle of thanking her, told her that only her father was Jewish!

This has been eating us up since.

All that effort...

Like father, like daughter

Karkafta at the airport

As reported before, our luggage (including over 500 dollars of refrigerated food) was left in Moscow on Wednesday night.

And what an ordeal. We filed a report, and then came home. Thursday we had people calling them all day, until we found out that I had to fly to Moscow to get our stuff.

We started planning to book a ticket, and even thought about making a short fundraising trip in order to reimburse for the trip and perhaps pay for Chanukah. However, I was really sick (see last post) and not looking forward to the trip. Also, it would mean transferring and lugging 7 huge bags to a different terminal alone.

Firday morning good news came. They might fly our luggage to Min Voda but we'll have to pick it up. When will it arrive? at 2:00 (which leaves 2 hours left til shabbos starts. Min Voda is a 2 hour drive from Stavropol).

I went to the notary to officially give permission for a goy to pick up our stuff (I'm not into taking risks), and he set off for the long drive (which we paid for).

Side note: a sign of Russian bureaucracy was the NINETEEN stamps on the notaries table (I counted them all). She used 5 of them on my document.

Friday night the dude didn't show up with our luggage. At 2 AM our door rang, but no one came upstairs.

Shabbos day to our surprise Viktoria (our secretary, who always has shabbos off), showed up. She told us that we ALL had to go there in person.

By this time we were certain that it was all probably ruined (the meat, cheese and fish).

So Sunday we set off, all 4 of us sick, in 2 cars. One driven by Oleg Bogopolsky, the other by Refoel Khaimov, a mountain Jew (he's a halachic Jew, his wife isn't. And he's the guy who drove me ever yom kippur to the freezing ice cold mikva in the mountain stream I took, which I think I wrote about).

We got to the airport and had to wait for a vet to arrive.

Why a vet?

To throw out the mneat and stuff, since 'we cannot allow this stuff into Russia.'

While we waited I decided to ask Refoel if he ever put on Tefillin. "No" was his answer. So I took out mine, and asked if he was interested in doing it.

"In the street?"

"If you'd like, we can put it on in the car."

"No, I am a proud Jew. Let's do Tefillin outside."

So for my first time in Russia, and first time I have ever seen in Russia, a Jew put on Tefillin in public.

Then we went inside, where we had to open our luggage to be scrutinized by the vet.

He was a big Russian, looked like a Cossack.

He started off by ranting about how we weren't allowed any food into Russia, and we would have to pay a fne.

But Chayale spoke to him, and calmed him down. She explained to him about kosher, and told him to be nice to us.

Surprisingly he agreed, and not only let us take in all the non-rotten meat (which was alot), but also let us get away with no fne whatsoever, even for overwheight luggage.

Most of the food survived and are now in our freezer.

A day at the doctor in Stavropol

I think the proper thing to do before I get to the doctor part of this is tell you about our trip home.

While in Montreal I had nursed a bad strept (or is it strep?) back to health, and just before I left Morristown to return home, it returned.

I staked my claim that it was bad, but there was no time anyway to go to the doctor.

We got to the airport a little late, and had to sort things out.

Basically, our travel agent (may no one use his services) has screwed us over. We had bought tickets to Moscow online (complicated story), and we payed him to get us tickets from Moscow to Mineralniy Voda, the closest normal airport.

He was doing three things at once, so he made it on the wrong date. Then, when we discovered this, he made us pay for all the changes as though it were our fault... and didn't even connect it to the New York-Moscow flight, meaning we would have to transfer all our 7 pieces of luggage from one terminal to the next in Moscow and recheck in (and pay overwheight again), all whilst lugging our two kids along.

At the airport we were the last to check in, and rushed through it. The ticket counter lady was really nice and friendly, and she organized that our luggage will go straight to Min Voda, which was a relief.

We had a new theory for Miriam. Usually she gets cranky and bad throughout the flight. This time we decided to let her be until she falls asleep, and not try to do it on our terms. It worked, and she fell asleep for the entire flight, a miracle of red-sea-splitting porportions.

Chaim also pretty much slept through the flight, which was good.

It was our year anniversary from going on shlichus, and our 3 year anniversary since we married. We exchanged gifts on the plane.

Finally, we landed in Moscow. We stood by the plane demanding our double stroller, since otherwise we'd be carrying the kids around. We ran to the domestic transfer desk (located all the way across the entire airport) with the kids, only to be told that we had to buy Chaim a ticket, since our TRAVEL AGENT in America forgot to do so.

So we had to clear customs, find a counter and get the ticket. We then exchanged terminals, went through security again, and with them announcing our name already over the loudspeaker, were told that the bought ticket wasn't registered in their system.

Luckily the lady at the desk got on our case, bumping in front of an entire lineup at the Aeroflot ticket counter, and we were the last people on the plane.

Naturally, all our seats were far away from each other, so they upgraded us to business class.

Peeking into first class, in Russia they ACTUALLY HAVE PAINTINGS ON THE WALLS of the plane! And people are literally sinking into couches and stuff.

It was like being on a flying Louvre.

We landed in Min Voda, only to find out that our luggage was still in Moscow.

We were told that we'd have to fly to Moscow to get it back, but then thankfully they were sent to Min Voda. In an hour we will iy"h pick it up. All our many pounds of meat, cheese and fish are probably ruined.

Meanwhile, when we got back, all of us were sick. We had endured a gruelling 4 hour ride on a 'gazelle' (mini-bus with no shocks), a trip that should normally take an hour and a half.

My strep had returned full swing, so we booked an appointment with the doctor in the medicine center, considered the3 classiest place in Stavropol, and only a block away.

We have connections there since the owner of the private center is a Jew. His daughter, who heads one huge department, is a good friend of Chayale's, as is his grand-daughter.

Anyway, I went to the doctor with my secretary, who would be needed for translation purposes.

The Stavropol center of medicine, which is the largest and most exclusive medicine center of the city, is run by a member of the community. His daughter heads one department, and his grand-daughter, a student who speaks sluent English, is a friend of Chayale's.

Therefore we are totally hooked up there, and in Russia, being connected means everything. Like you can find a janitor who can't go anywhere or do anything getting the best Vodka in the city for free because he knows the manager of the local store, or something like that.

Anyway, I will not describe the entire procedure of the super upper-class medicine center (which is about the equivalent of the Harlem Hospital emergency room in efficiency and classiness).

The doctors office was kind of large, with two doctors, one in front of a computer taking notes the entire time.

The one who dealt with me looked a little like an alien from a homemade video, being that she had a flashlight wrapped around her head with some silver foil thing. The flashlight, instead pointing toward my mouth like it does in America, rather shone toward her forehead where there was a massive silver reflector, so she can see inside my entire mouth (and probably my lungs and stomach too).

She started by asking me a bunch of questions. And by 'bunch' I mean like somewhere around the number 700. Meanwhile, the computer doctor was typing my answers furiously.

The questions included:

"Do you have elephantitis?"
"At what age exactly did you hit puberty?"
"Did you ever marry with a mammoth?"

The only questions they forgot were:

"Have you been to Chernobyl?"
and
"Did you pack these bags yourself and did you watch them at all times?"

When the interrogation finished, the check-up started. And boy was it primitive (but unfortunately without witch doctors).

First she checked my nose. She put a tiny gauze pad under my left nostril and asked me to hold my right nostril shut and breathe in and out from my left one.

She watched the fluttering gauze pad with interest, and the other lady furiously jotted down notes into the computer ("His right exhalement blew the gauze 15 nanometers further than the left one").

Then she checked my ears. Standard stuff. She peered through that black telescope doctors have and muttered stuff in Russian as the other lady assaulted the keyboard.

She then reached for the matches on the table (yes, among the doctor equipment on the table was a box of matches).

I quickly cracked a nervous joke about how I need my beard to be a Rabbi, and then watched as she lit one of those things that are put under hot food at simchas.

She then took a mirror, and stuck it to the end of a stick (how primitive can you get?), and HELD THE MIRROR OVER THE FIRE. As she turned it over and over atop the flame as though it were a hot dog, she asked me to open my mouth and stick out my tongue.

She was a slick one. As soon as my tongue popped out she grabbed it with her hand (protected from germs and shomer negiah issues by a gauze pad). Then she stuck the sizzling mirror into my throat. It burned so I tried to jump back, but she had a good grip on my tongue.

"I am never coming back," I thought at this point, but didn't say it, partially because I couldn't, since my tongue was being yanked.

Finally she finished checking my throat, and decided to test my hearing. And so (I kid you not) she went to the other side of the room and asked me to block one ear. Then she covered her mouth and started whispering words that I had to repeat back to her.

I don't mean to brag, but I got every single word correctly. And without boasting, let me say that I did 100% with both ears.

I half expected her to then walk into the next room and start whispering words, to test the decibel level of my ears, but thank G-d she didn't.

Then they printed out the subscription, and it had a total of NINE MEDICINES!!!!@#$%%$#@!!

One was for my 'ear problem' (go figure).

On the way to the apteka (pharmacy), we narrowed them down to 3.

Now I must never, ever get sick again.

Ever!

At the zoo

Yesterday was our last complete day in America. As a matter of fact, in only a couple of hours our flight back to Stavropol begins, and we have 7 suitcases ready and packed by the door.

Since the 'tzimtzum', as they call it (meaning: since Leviev's funding slowed down), the network established to get Shluchim in Russia kosher meat and milk stopped.

In the past, we would call Or Avner headquarters in Moscow, make our request (usually 90 kilos of chicken and 2 large boxes of long-life milk every 3 months or so) and they would send it to us and take the price off our salary. A simple and efficient plan.

But now things are different. Our ginormous freezer in Stavropol is almost bare, and there is no way to get meat. So this time we have packed lots of meat. Another shame, since the price for Kosher (Lubavitch shchita) meat in the US sky-rocketed.

Anyway, yesterday we finally managed to get to a zoo. It cost 15 dollars to go to turtleback zoo in New Jersey and barely anyone was there. Miriam ran around delighted. Squealing at the eagles, scared at the snakes (she even fell off a chair), and in awe of the horses (we couldn't get her to leave the horses).

It was a fun way to end our time in America, but it's a relief to be going back home.

Now if only we had all the papers for permanent residency.

We lost a great one

So much has been written about the attacks on Chabad of Mumbai that I don't think there is much more I could write.

Like many others I was glued to the computer trying to find out news. A Tehillim lay open in front of me and I would say a kapitul every so often confident that Rabbi Holtzberg and his family were going to be released.

After all, haven't we heard all the Farbrengens? the ones where the Mashpia tells us all that 'no shliach of the Rebbe has ever been harmed on his shlichus because shlucho shel odom kemoso'?

So what does this mean now? does this mean that all shluchim are vulnerable? is the magic of 'shlucho shel odom kemoso' over? for those of us living in 'dangerous' areas (and Stavropol is listed as one to US travelers, aside from the fact that down the block from us 2 Chechnyans killed some people), do we now leave our posts? or beef up security? do we hide? run?

The answer of course is NO WAY! Particularly in Russia, where we are out there to give them Jewish pride. 9/11 showed us that NOWHERE is safe. Not Manhattan, not the middle of Pennsylvania. So we DO beef up security, but we don't stop. We stand proud.

And we are proud of the victims we mourn. From what I hear, he was a great one. Someone that impressed even the Gerrer Chassidim and Satmar Chassidim with the breadth of his learning.

We need Moshiach. And this is why all us shluchim are out there. So he will come.

And we won't stop and hide.

Photos from the kinus

This is last years controversial photo of Rabbi Sholom Ber Estrin and myself:



This year we again stood in the exact same spot next to each other, and made sure not to stand out in any way: (except that I was wearing Canadiens boxers)



Our table at the banquet. I sat next to Shua Naparstek and Yisroel Bernath, both Rabbis (naturally). Next year iy"h we will each have our own table with layleaders:



This final photo is an interesting one. As I was wandering with Dovid Russ, we bumped into a couple of Chassidim (not Lubavitch... perhaps skver or something) and had a very nice conversation. I think they were brought down as lay-leaders. They said it was their first kinus and were very impressed and touched. They took a photo with us as well, and here it is: (from http://www.theyeshivaworld.com/gallery/main.php?g2_itemId=52227)

What a kinus can do

Last year I caused quite a stir when I posed for a friend at the photo part of the kinus (international conference of shluchim), and it made it into the (New York) daily news.

So this year, undaunted, I made my way up to the EXACT SPOT I was last year with the EXACT SAME friend I posed with (what brevity!), only this time we smiled all the time (including when I smashed my funny bone into the metal back of the bleachers).

I am the guy on the top right of the picture (with the scarf).

The kinus, for us Russian shluchim, is something extra special. For some reason we are the pride of Chabad. I mean, they will be announcing the roll call, and passing through the shluchim of like Dubai, Cuba, South Korea and Lebanon, but only when they reach Russia, do they make a big event out of it.

Perhaps it's because Lubavitch originated there, but some guys have a harder time than us, in my opinion.

On a side note, from reading the Achdus shluchim forum and thwe population figures of Jews world-wide by country, I have compiled a short list of still-available countries to be a 'head shliach'.

Dubai (Pro: no need to fundraise in America ever again. Con: the cost to ransom your remains is exhorbitant).
Andorra (a tiny country between France and Spain where there are some Jews)
Gibraltar (Just noticed it wasn't mentioned by R' Kotlarsky. Why isn't there a shliach there?)
Mongolia (there is actually a community there)
Iceland (They even have a shul. But read from a paper Torah)
Phillipines (Some Jews in Manila)

See? told you I have alot of spare time.

Anyway, back to the kinus.

This year I made the motzei shabbos event, and boy was it inspiring. The banquet was also fantastic. My favorite moment came when the Israeli ambassador to somewhere thanked an Argentinian Rabbi who saved his daughters life (you had to be there).

This year there were two 'sessions' for the Russian shluchim and one farbrengen.

The first class focused on economic issues. I'd write in detail but I don't think this is the proper place to do so. The second was with George Rohr who promised to continue supporting us by giving us (at minimum) our salaries. He got a standing ovation for that (and who wouldn't?). At the end of the session, we all had a chance to personally thank him for about 20 seconds.

When I found myself in front of him I thanked him and gave him a gorgeous photo book Chayale made, with all the best photos of stuff we have done this past year in Stavropol. Inside was a letter with a plan (Chayale wants to start) to make some kind of Shabbos candles program going in memory of his mother.

He wished me Hatzlacha, and as I headed out I saw Rabbi Lazar perusing through the pictures.

The kinus gave me a boost, and I will return to Stavropol ready to try out many new ideas.

We leave in a week.

No beaurocracy for a change

It's always a pain getting documents together for anything... Particularly the Russian government.

We have spent the past month working our and you will have to excuse my very coarse language TUCHISSES off trying to get the following documents we need in order to make permanent residency (and don't get me started with what we had to do to get our new visas, suffice it to say that some licking of a Russian security guards toes took place).

- All birth certificates (inculding Chayale's original from England).
- Two copies of our marriage license (to go in BOTH our files). Thank G-d we aren't polygamists.
- A police report (with photo and fingerprints) of every adult.
- All those documents notarized.
- Then internationally notarized (apostille in the US, authentication in Canada).
- Then everythng translated into Russian by an official translator.
- And stamped by the Russian embassy, verifying the translation.

Of course after this must take several blood tests to prove that we aren't on drugs, and don't have AIDS, and then, and then, AND THEN...

And then maybe we will be allowed to get permanent residency, since only 1000 people are allowed each year in each province.

But it's worth a shot.

And everything took time, money, and errors.

Except for today. I was up to the part called 'authentication', which meant I had to take the notarized documents to Ottawa.

So I traveled 2 hours each way to the Canadian department of authentication and other long words, and expected:

- To pay alot of money
- To wait 10 working days for it to arrive
- To lick at least one toe

Anyway, in the end, I walked in. A lady says, "give me the papers and sit." 30 seconds later she comes out and hands me the papers back, stamped... all for free!

The world amazes me sometimes.

The end of the Kovalev story

Update: we are in Montreal, which is why we haven't updated the website in a while, since there isn't much to report here with regards to Stavropol news.

However before we left, I (Zvi writing) had another meeting with Alex Kovalev.

It was thanks to a great idea by Chayale.

Since the photographer at the Torah event came at a very cheap price, and did a great job taking high quality shots, why don't we hire him before we leave back, and take our own stock photos of all our Jewish items, so we don't have to search the entire internet next time we make a brochure like we had to for the Torah event?

To take this a step further, why not bring in 6 of the community's cutest kids to be in some of the pictures, like this we have high quality shots of kids FROM OUR COMMUNITY doing Mitzvos, so on our next Chanuka flyer we send out, there will be a local kid in a beautiful shot.

We had one day to organize it, and we managed to do just that.

Except for the Torah. Half hour before the photo-shoot I rushed to the Jewish center, and grabbed the Torah. Now I needed a way back, so I called everyone I knoew with cars, but they were all out of the city. It was raining, and I wasn't too keen on taking the Torah into a taxi with someone I didn't know, so I called Alex Kovalev (a Jewish cab driver I met), and for the first time in many tries, he was in the area.

He came quickly, and I showed him the Torah, and we spoke about it on the way home. I also explained him again about Hashgacha Protis, and finally he agreed to bring his family to a holiday, provided I give him advance notice.

As we pulled up to our apartment, he said, "by the way, I have something interesting to tell you."

"Go ahead" I said.

"Remember last time I told you that I have a sister who lives in the Czech republic? well she just gave birth to a son. Now in Czech, the tradition is to name the first son after the father, so everyone knew that the boy would be named 'Yarik', which is the name of her husband. However, when she arrived at the office of registry, she just blurted out that she wants his name to be 'David', even though she never knew anyone named David (note: David as 'Dovid', not David with a Day-vid)."

Alex then told me, "Strange Rabbi, David is a Jewish name, and I had never told her that she was a Jew!"

Chills

Found this bit of false but true-sounding news

http://translate.google.com/translate?hl=en&sl=ru&u=http://www.kiprian.ru/passion/2008/04/03/tsvi/&sa=X&oi=translate&resnum=7&ct=result&prev=/search%3Fq%3D%25D1%2581%25D1%2582%25D0%25B0%25D0%25B2%25D1%2580%25D0%25BE%25D0%25BF%25D0%25BE%25D0%25BB%25D1%258C%2B%25D1%2586%25D0%25B2%25D0%25B8%26hl%3Den%26sa%3DG

I think it's kinda funny.

An email my Mammy-in-law wrote to a friend of her experience in Stavropol

We went to Russia because Chayale and Zvi were donated a Sefer Torah, or Torah scroll and they had organized a ceremony to bring it to its new home in their Jewish center. A Torah scroll is a very expensive item, since it's the work of a scribe writing by hand the entire Torah on calf parchment. This one cost $30,000. The man who purchased and donated the Torah scroll was a student of Rony's at Carmel- graduated in 1994. A Russian boy- one of the many who attended Carmel in the early '90's, whose parents made an immediate mountain of money after arriving in Western Europe from Russia. Eli (Ginsburg) has since returned to Russia to capitalize on the boom in Moscow. Done very well in casinos. Has a big Russian heart and a gorgeous smile. He paid our tickets, which ran over a $1000 each.

Another donor involved in the day was Peter Order, another Russian/German Old Carmeli from the same years. He donated an aron hakodesh, or custom-built cabinet to house the scroll. Both of these guys attended the ceremony, but more on that later.

The itinerary for the trip was JFK-Moscow, Moscow-Mineralnye Vodi and then Mineralniye Vodi (by 2 hour car trip)-Stavropol. Way back was four hour car trip fromv Stavropol-Krasnodar, Krasnodar-Moscow, Moscow-New York.

It ain't conveniently located, Stavropol.

Lost at least one night ahead of time preparing school work for my absence. We left on Wednesday, September17 right after I got home from Monsey after teaching. Our luggage included an absolute minimum of personal items among 3 HUGE suitcases stuffed with stuff for the Hershcoviches. Plus we acquired an additional box of stuff for one of the Russian rabbinical families, from the organization in NY that sponsors these guys. In short, we were not traveling light and were in fact far overweight. Luckily they averted their gaze on this; sometimes Rony's get-up- suit, beard, hat serve quite conveniently to stifle criticism. We just leave 'em struck dumb behind us.

Among the carry-on stuff we happened to be toting a shofar, a ram's horn which is hollowed out for the purpose of blowing during the services of Rosh Hashonah. Most shofars are modest items, 8-10 inch horns that can be tucked into bags. But Chayale, bless her little Russian heart, ordered Chavi to go and purchase a GARGANTUAN specimen, a veritable Goliath of shofars, fully 3 feet long, with graceful sweeping curves along its length. I mean, this came from a REALLY BIG ram. And it wasn't going into any suitcase. I dragged it along behind me, and wondered if security would consider it a weapon. Moseying along down the concourse it elicited many stares and of course it served as a sure-fire conversation starter.

As we slid up to the first security check at the check-in hall into the concourse the guard took a look at the shofar and asked (knowingly- this is code Jew-to-Jew, that "I'm Jewish too") if we were going to Russia to give religious services. I answered "yes", but my husband's eyes lit up. He asked the guard "Did you hear shofar yet today?" "Nope." "Can I blow for you?" The bloke answered "yes", but that's because he didn't know what was coming. I couldn't believe it, that it was really going to happen, as there was a rapidly growing line behind us. Let me tell you that a 3-foot shofar makes a REALLY big noise, and Rony of course did not short-change the guy- he blew all the necessary sounds, about a full minute and a half's worth. I could not possibly describe the scene properly. The check-in hall in the international terminal at JFK is cavernous, about the length of a football field and totally open-air. At the blast of Rony's shofar the entire hall, thousands of people, came to a stand-still, security personnel spinning in their tracks, and all stood there immobilized until he finished. Once done, there were a few seconds of stunned silence and then…. They all applauded.

Quite a dramatic advent to our journey. All the way to the plane, we drew appreciative stares and strangers came up to meet us. I began to feel that fame would have its drawbacks, and started to feel sympathy with Angelina Jolie. It's not easy to deal with constant admiration and attention.

Plane trip. Long and boring through the night. Another with no sleep.

Moscow in the morning overcast. We have to catch a shuttle to a different airport for the next leg. Waiting in the airport, Rony, feeling that he was on a roll, repeated the shofar thing for another unsuspecting traveler. Bit dicier, in NY anything goes, but hey this is Moscow, most of the airport security are ex-KGB. Luckily utter shock kept them quiet.

Shared the shuttle ride with a Russian ex-pat from Queens who was returning with her husband to Sochi to start a business there in preparation for the 2014 Olympics. Before we got off the bus she had managed to engage my husband, who has a real flair for cutting to the chase, in a discussion about why G-d conceals Himself in the world.

Next plane ride to Mineralniye Vodi, a provincial town two hours car-ride east of Stavropol. The city is a regional resort for Russians- known for its mineral waters and spas, a kind of Carlsbad of the Caucacus- but pretty much ignored by Westeners. No one in that airport spoke English. No one. And it was absolutely clear no one had ever seen anyone that looked like my husband. Yep, we were a long way from New York.

Picked up by Alek, a friend/driver/community member of Chayale and Zvi's circle. He drove very slowly. The drive started promisingly enough, on a highway that looked a lot like Highway 14 through Hand County, slashing through flat wheatlands (dark though it was). Then things deteriorated; highway became old 14. Finally, at one point, "highway" resembled that track through the Elk Mountains up behind the Rock House, the one that you can only travel with a Jeep. Once we slowed down to 15 miles per hour on this road, we were pretty sure we had reached the stage when we were about to be kidnapped in foreign territory by Chechnyan ists.

But, it turned out inexplicably, that this is just the road to Stavropol. Hmmm.

Arrived in Stavropol about 10:00 pm their time, 6:00 am ours. Another night with no sleep.

Chayale and Zvi's apartment, let's put it delicately, is modest. Crumbling Soviet block of cement walls. The elevator doesn't stop on their floor (elevator holds only two skinny people without touching each other, two heavier in a tight embrace) so the suitcases went to the floor above and then we shlepped them down. Smart. We arrived to the alarming news that the residents had been informed just that morning (notice pasted near the entrance) that for the next 10 days the pipes in the building would be replaced/repaired and thus for that time there would be no hot water. From 9 am to 6 pm there would also be no cold water.

Russians accept these things without complaint; stuff like this is just life as they know it.

Kids were delighted with all the goodies in our bags. Especially the chocolate.

Next day was preparation for Shabbos with no water. Highlight of the day was running out an hour before Shabbos to take a room at the Intourist Hotel, where we, Rony and I, could avail ourselves of their service of "registering", a mysterious procedure whereby foreigners register their presence in the city, something required of them. The main point of the hotel room however, was to take a shower, which 6 of us did in under an hour.

On Shabbos day (Saturday) Chayale and I took a walk to the city center, taking Miriam with us. Poor calculation on our part: we went too far, since we were not allowed to carry her on Shabbos she had to walk all the way back. I felt a little bit like a child abuser. In the city center is a park, with Lenin Square beyond it (more on this later). Happened to be 'Stavropol Day' so the park was full of people. Our English conversation and clothing stood out, but since the Russians are reserved, rarely overcoming an ingrained culture of minding one's own business to initiate a conversation with a stranger, we were left alone.

Curious cultural event of that walk. Everyone smokes. Women, men, 10-yr-old boys. So we ran into a group of about a dozen teenage s who had been clothed in matching black jeans, short hot pink trench coats and matching hot pink canvas briefcases. Coats and briefcases were emblazoned with the word "Kiss". Took us awhile, but finally we discovered that Kiss is a cigarette brand. We got to watch the s approach hunky young men (and their friends) in the park and offer them cigarette samples and lighters. Chayale was really disappointed we weren't offered because she quickly began practicing how to say "Kissing someone who smokes is like licking an ashtray" in Russian. She just wasn't sure about the ashtray part.

I thought Stavropol would look like a European city, poor, but definitely European. It did not. It looked Asian. The city is a patchwork of ugly aging Soviet apartment houses (none more than 6 stories) sticking up amongst tiny one-story decrepit shacks. I mean, imagine, the Ree Heights Implement store- as it looks now- that's the state of these buildings. Only people live in them. They're not peeling white paint. They're grey stone. With curved styled Russian shutters- as though cut from a stencil. Occasionally, there will be a brand-new sparkling building, startling and throwing all the rest into brown contrast.

Next day was celebration day.

Bit of background. Lot of ethnic groups in Stavropol. Chechnyans, Armenians, Moslems, Cossacks, ethnic Russians, Kazakhs, etc. Different from our ethnic groups in NY (didn't see a single black face in Russia), since all of these are indigenous to the area. They are not far from home, in other words.

Likewise, there is a Jewish ethnic group in the area- called Mountain Jews. They are actually Sephardi (Oriental Jews with Oriental Jewish customs), and their ethnic home is in the Caucaucus Mountains to the immediate south of Stavropol. They have their own customs and apparently those who still live in the mountains are quite traditional and have weathered the Communist years better than the rest of Russian Jewry. Many, however, have come down into the cities in the area, and are relatively assimilated (though not to the same extent as other Russian Jews).

Footnote: While we were waiting for our luggage in Mineralyne Vodi we met a Mountain Jew who had left the area for NY right after perestroika. Once in NY he met and married a non-Jew. His mother and sister eventually also came to NY, took an apartment next door to him and never once in nearly 20 years have spoken to him (because of the inter-marriage). He was returning now to the homeland to visit his grandfather, hoping that he would be accepted.

Zvi's brief is really for all of Stavropol krai (province)- an area that extends all the way to neighboring Georgia. He has made contact with Jewish communities in several other towns in the province, but he assured me that it wasn't safe, and he wouldn't, travel in the extreme southeast of the province. Thank G-d.

Anyway, living in Stavropol is a clan of these Mountain Jews, who own, collectively, a restaurant in the city. This family, the Solomonovs, donated the use of their restaurant for the celebration and allowed Rony and Zvi to come kasher (make kosher) the facilities. They surely got more than they bargained for; we think they probably thought Zvi would just come and make a blessing on the place. The boys were there Sunday 6 am and put the poor Solomonovs through a crash course on kashrus. They were real sports though, and even though Rony couldn't speak English they became pals through sign language.

The event was scheduled to begin at 3. The crowd showed up at 2:30!! Unheard of in NY: they beat us to the hall. Beautiful lay-out, delicious food, and a huge crowd. Chayale and Zvi had no idea what to expect, this being their first big do. What a shock when eventually something like 300 people showed up. Can't begin to tell you what a miracle this number is. Russian Jews, especially in the farther provinces, are submerged, quiet, totally assimilated. All the publicity for this event was word-of-mouth. But they came, and they stayed.

Must also say that Chayale's and Zvi's organization was flawless. The thing was perfectly thought out, no detail omitted. And they work really well together. We were very proud of them.

Unfortunately, there was a hiccup- not their fault. The sefer Torah was coming from Moscow by airplane, accompanied by the scribe who had written it, the speaker (a talented rabbi from the city) and Eli and Peter, the donors. For some reason, typical in Russia, the plane was diverted from Mineralynye Vodi (2 hrs. drive) to Krasnodar (4 hrs. drive). They would be late- very late. Also, the rabbi in Krasnodar (they are the closest religious family) was on his way with a few extras and their car had broken down. They would be late- very late. But the crowd held. Finally, an hour and a half late, the visiting dignitaries arrived and we had a very emotional and exciting ceremony.

The ceremony is called hachnasos Sefer Torah. It means 'welcoming the Torah scroll'. It is preceded by the finishing of the writing of the scroll. The scroll is written with a goose quill, with specially prepared ink, written on a parchment made of calf-skin. The letters have to be written in an exact method of calligraphy, and according to numerous laws. In this ceremony, the scribe left the last 40 letters to be "completed" by honorees. In truth, he writes the letters, the honorees just touching his hand to participate. It was a heart-stopping moment to watch Jews who really know nothing about Judaism, who really only know that they are Jewish and that they want to do this Jewish thing, cluster around the scribe, eager to have their turn. They were really so proud to have their own sefer Torah. With a sefer Torah, they can have a synagogue in the city again, with services on Shabbos and festivals. With a sefer Torah, they are a community again. Once again, Jewish life rises out of the ashes of those who wished to do them in.

After the Torah was completed, everybody boarded buses (provided by Zvi and Chayale) and cars to go to the Jewish center, to bring the sefer Torah to its home. The center is located near the center of the city right near a city landmark. There is a large stone arch called "The Gateway to the Caucacus". There we got out and danced in the street with the scroll and then walked a half block down to the center, where the ceremony ended with a special service and more refreshments.

During the time when we were outside dancing, the locals gathered at the edges of our group and stared. I'm not sure they even understood what they saw, that these were Jews. I'm quite sure they didn't understand the significance; that these were Jews returned to public Jewish life again. Rony saw one group of local boys draw up, stare and cross themselves. Guess they must have understood something.

Grand success. Very moving and we're really proud of these two. The community LOVES them.

Monday we got out late, but we toured the city and bought souvenirs for the kids. Went on a wild goose chase for a samovar for me. Will have to resume the search next visit. A few highlights. In the center of the city is Lenin Square- a huge and empty space. I've never seen anything like it in an American city, nor in England. A vast, windy space. On one side a provincial government building with a large statue of Lenin (still standing). One the opposite side sits the city museum/library. Zvi wanted to show us the ancient Torah scroll confiscated by the Communists some 80 years ago from the old (defunct) synagogue. This scroll is downstairs in the museum basement, in a closet, in an old cardboard tube. It needed visiting. (He visits it regularly.) Unfortunately we arrived at closing time; they said no way, and in Russia, a rule is a rule. However, Zvi quickly explained that outside is a visiting dignitary, the Chief Rabbi of New Jersey (he may actually have said the Chief Rabbi of America) who wishes to see the scroll.

Well, it appears that visiting dignitaries trump rules in Russia. So we saw the scroll, and were so happy that its exile has been redeemed, so to speak, by a new compatriot safely housed just a few blocks away in the Jewish center.

Zvi seems to be really big on the visiting dignitary thing. He really wanted to be able to present us to the provincial governor as visiting dignitaries, giving him an audience and an opportunity to request certain facilities. Unfortunately, the provincial governor was detained in jail during our visit on some sort of embezzlement charge.

Maybe next time.

As evening drew on, we went to what seemed to be the highest point in the city. There is another park at this location, with a World War II memorial and a look-out over the city (pretty at night-fall when we saw it- you can't see the grays and browns- like Manhattan at night, gorgeous with the lights when you can't see the grime and crowds). Big plaza there, one side of which is ted by a graceful old building that was, before the Revolution and before religion became a crime, the Jewish synagogue. A big building, it is testament to what Jewish life there must have once been like.

I was busy snapping pics of the synagogue and a historic wall around it, when three burly, husky, scary-looking guys hustled up to me and told me something in Russian. Zvi hurried over and translated that they were telling me I can't take pictures. What do they mean I can't take pictures. I'm an American, I can do what I want! I blurt out, real confrontational, "Why not?" Zvi shushes me up, does some explaining to the guys, gestures to my husband standing at the synagogue entrance, and moves me away. Apparently, the head of the regional Mafia lives next door to the synagogue. No pictures, you understand. And they mean no pictures. I got it. Zvi smoothed it all over with them by explaining that that guy over in the entrance to the synagogue is the Chief Rabbi of…

An exciting trip. We were off to home the next day.