Happy Hanukah to all you Jews out there!! It is that time of the year where we get together, make really fatty foods, sing fun songs, light candles and celebrate that fact that while they've been trying for centuries, no one can seem to wipe us out. The fatty food of choice at Hanukah is of course the latka, or the fried potato pancake, and I am very excited to make them for the first time this year. However it would feel like cheating if I only made latkas and did not light the Menorah! But seeing as a menorah was not on my top ten list of things that needed to make it to Buenos Aires with me (I'm pretty sure it wasn't on any list) I headed out today in search of one. Having received the number for Chabad (spelled Jabad here) from a random Lubavitch, who is from Brooklyn and who has lived here for 30 years, in the Farmacia named Pini I decided to try out my mad Spanish skills on the phone while Josh was sleeping. I was informed that I could buy a menorah at Jabad for only 12 pesos, and after receiving the address I got ready, ate one of my favorite breakfasts (toast, avocado, eggsald and tomato compiled into a heavenly tower of love (shout out to Dad)), and hopped on the 29. Well actually I didn't hop onto it. I looked for it for about 1/2 hour because of road work and then jogged to make it before the bus driver pulled away with people hanging out the door. After a lovely bus ride I made it to Jabad only to be informed outside the door that "Hay nada mas" or that there were no more. However! (there is always an however), the Kosher minimarket right next store had some.
I wandered into the store and my eyes lit up brighter than the candles in my new menorah will tonight. Here was a mini wonderland of Kosher fare, including Philadelphia cream cheese, Sauerkraut, gelt, and...(drum roll please) PICKLES!!!!!!! That's right, there were pickles in several different shapes and jar sizes. Now anyone who knows me here has heard me say ATLEAST one time (probably more) that the only thing I really miss besides a good bagel with cream cheese and lox is pickles. Pickles, Pickles, Pickles. Kosher Dill, half sour, sour, you name it, I miss it.
So with muffled joy I brought my menorah, candles, gelt and ¡PICKLES! to the counter and put my plata on the counter in case the man was shomer nigea (he follows the Jewish rule that men and women should not touch unless married or immidiate family) and set off to find the bus.
On the bus I proudly had a mini coversation with the mujer next to me about how bad the trafico was, and then I pointed out in Spanish that there was work being down in the street all over the city and we both kind of shook our heads because the bus was taking ¡forever! and lurching all over the place to boot.
Finally, three hours after I had left my apartment I arrived home with my goodies and tried my first pickle in months. While it leaves something desired in the way of crunchiness (I hope this is improved when eaten cold) and depth of taste, I am so happy I found a place where I can go to get my pickle fix. Amen