French Jews Still Anxious, Despite Calm

Falafel shop owner feels at home in Paris, but not all Jews agree. Sharon Udasin

by Sharon Udasin
Staff Writer

Paris — Nestled among Parisian gefilte fish proprietors, pickled herring vendors and boulangeries stocked with chocolate rugelach, an Israeli restaurateur yanks otherwise oblivious customers into his teeming falafel palace while Chabad boys sell palm fronds for Sukkot across the cobblestone Rue des Rosiers.

In the Marais, the traditional Jewish quarter of the French capital, neon leaflets advertise Hebrew classes and nearly every shop window has a stamp of approval from the Beth Din of Paris.

“We are in our home here,” says Yomi, the owner of the popular falafel shop, L’as du Fallafel (The Ace of Falafel), who refused to give his last name.

But step outside the close-knit quarters of the Marais district, and France’s Jews will tell you they hardly feel at home and that a low-grade but chronic anxiety gnaws at them because of their Jewish identity. And because of a persistent fear that tensions in the Middle East could escalate at a moment’s notice, leaving them vulnerable.

The war in Gaza ended 10 months ago, Hamas rocket fire into the southern Israeli town of Sderot is almost nonexistent and Iran, Israel’s existential enemy, is torn apart by internal political dissent. In other words, things are relatively quiet in Israel and the status quo is more than tolerable, say many Israelis. Yet in interviews with dozens of French Jews from Paris to Lille to Nice over the course of 10 days earlier this month, a picture emerges of a French Jewish population walking on eggshells.

Despite the 1,800 miles that separate Paris from Tel Aviv, Jews in France say they face ongoing repercussions from the ongoing Middle Eastern tensions. And it’s not only from the country’s large Arab population but perhaps even more so from native French citizens and political leaders. France, with a population of more than 62 million, boasts the largest Jewish population in Europe, as well as a growing Arab population — more than 600,000 Jews and an estimated 4 to 7 million Arabs, according to Time magazine.

“Even at university you can’t even show that you’re Jewish,” said Leah Soussan, 20, at a kosher sushi restaurant in the Marais, where she was catching up with five girlfriends home for Sukkot and Simchat Torah.

Soussan, who said she’d never dare wear a Star of David in public, decided to attend university in Israel at the Interdisciplinary Center of Herzliya, rather than stay in France. Perhaps the least traditionally dressed among her friends — she wore tight jeans while her friends all sported long skirts — Soussan actually attended a Catholic high school, where she said she tried to convert her Catholic friends into respecting her Jewish faith.

“Here there is no respect at all if they know you are Jewish,” said her friend Jessica Antunes, also 20.  Continue reading…

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Also take a look at this clip of Philippe Karsenty’s speech for American Friends of the Likud, 10/22/09:

My last day in Paris — and Sarah and I most definitely accomplished everything we set out to do! Musee D’Orsay, Notre Dame, Shoah Memorial, Centre Pompidou, Latin Quarter, and various other stops along the way. I’m so glad that I was randomly assigned to room with Sarah in Nice, because we ended up having so much fun together both there and here. I guess it’s really true, when you’re traveling alone, you’re bound to meet amazing people.

Tonight, after returning to the hostel (Vintage Hostel in Montmartre), I’ve been having an ongoing conversation with Ismail, who came from Algeria to study in Paris and also works a couple night shifts here. We’ve been discussing how much Jews and Arabs actually have in common, as well as the different racial difficulties each experiences in this city and in America. And we’ve talked about Israel — he 100% believes that Israel should exist; he just thinks that the West Bank should be left to the Palestinians, without settlements. Ismail says that he just wants the world to stop viewing every single Muslim as an automatic terrorist, and just let him come visit Times Square/Fifth Avenue/Statue of Liberty despite his Algerian passport. And then when we were done discussing political issues and ethnic disputes, we went on to dissect the complexities of male-female relationships, and the absolutely ridiculous yet predictable behaviors of men.

Anyway, I can’t believe my trip to France is essentially over — I mean, my vacation is not over, as I’m leaving for Israel tomorrow and will stay there until Saturday, the 17th, when I come back to New York. But as Sarah and I were discussing over dinner, the time here has gone by really, really quickly, and I can’t wait for my next adventure. I’ve learned so much about this country, about myself and about life — but I’m far from complete. I hope to learn just as much or more during my six days in Israel.

On that note, especially since it’s almost 2:30 a.m. here, I bid you goodnight. I’m sorry that this blog post was far from exciting, but today was more of a relaxing and meandering around Paris type of day with (thankfully) few mishaps. Though I did walk straight into a pole one time today and bruised myself in a really bad place. Naturally, I’m Sharon, right?

I’m way too exhausted to produce much of a blog post tonight, after a whirlwind day around Paris. Was extraordinaire, however! Today Sarah and I pretty much managed to accomplish everything we set out to do, which included moving her stuff to another hostel, seeing some pretty synagogues, climbing La Tour Eiffel, a partial visit of Notre Dame (more tomorrow), a very selective tour of the Louvre, a climb up the Arc de Triomphe and dinner on the Champs-Elysees encore. We were, however, disappointed that our dinner ended at 11:40 p.m., too late to stop by the nearby Monoprix (the French Target-esque store, but much MUCH more mesmerizing if that’s possible).

Sometime in the middle of the day today I learned that President Obama had won the Nobel Peace Prize, and honestly, at first I thought this was a joke. I mean, sure, the guy has accomplished a lot by becoming the first African American president and showing such a deep interest in the working class, but, come on. He hasn’t even done ANYTHING yet. What type of peace between people has he already achieved? Fine if you want to give him the award if that happens, but certainly not fine at this point. If anything, some of his current global policies are making the world an even more dangerous place, like all these leniencies with Iran. He’s putting Israel in an increasingly nerve-wracking positi0n, and if he maintains this completely pacifist position with Iran, Israel will be forced to take care of the world solo, as usual, meanwhile taking inevitable slack for doing everyone else’s dirty work as usual.

Sorry for the political rant when I’m supposed to be blogging about my trip, but this just upset me immensely.

Anyway, back to Paris.

You really have to be wary of pickpockets at the Eiffel Tower. While sitting in the park in front of the tower enjoying some nice baguette/mozzarella/tomato/basil sandwiches, Sarah and I were probably approached by about 10 different Arab women, fully cloaked in disheveled religious garb, asking us, “Do you speak English?” Gradually, we learned to pretend that we didn’t in fact speak English, because this question was a trap for vulnerable tourists. If you respond affirmatively, the women pull out note-cards with stories about their suffering and why you should give them money. And they’ll keep lurking around after you’ve made yourself totally clear that you’re not interested. Then there was a little boy who tried to trick us into taking a gold ring from him as some sort of distraction mechanism. Thank goodness we didn’t fall for it. I guess there’s crime in all cities, but you have to just be aware of the crime types specific to where you are in order to avoid them.

The climb up the Eiffel Tower was great though — we walked up as far as you could climb but then decided not to take the elevator to the tippy-top because it was extra money and a huge line. Views from even the lower platforms were absolutely beautiful, however, and perhaps even better later in the evening at Notre Dame. One ridiculous thing we saw — a mid-60s-year-old woman who decided it would be a good idea to climb the Eiffel Tower in designer stiletto heels, meanwhile wearing band-aids all over her clearly pained feet.  People are…well…special.

In all seriousness though, the people I have met through staying in these hostels really have been special in a good way — all of them are so smart and have such interesting stories and backgrounds. For example, my Paris roommates at the moment are a pair of Serbian sisters and one Japanese girl studying abroad in Sweden. This morning we talked about everything from Slobodan Milosevic/Serbian-Bosnian-Albanian conflicts to Japanese hair straightening products. : )

On that note, I think I’m going to head upstairs to shower and go to bed, especially since all three of my roommates are probably already sleeping (it’s after 1 a.m.), and I’m going to make enough accidental noise as it is.

Bonne nuit, Shabbat Shalom, Happy Simchat Torah, Chag Sameach.

ISRAEL IN TWO DAYS!!!

J’adore Paris. J’adore Paris so much that I am too exhausted to write much of a blog post today. I hope that j’adore Paris just as much tomorrow!

Quickly though, I’ll start where I left off last night. After departing from Archie and then my three-hour stay at the Internet cafe, I headed to the Carcassonne train station, which I have to say was pretty creepily empty at that hour, as were the streets. But I got there, and after dealing with Bank of America, I met my new friend Jeremie, a 21-year-old French marine. I learned all about the French army/naval/marine system, and as a parting gift, he gave me one of his genuine marine chapeaus — like the real white ones with the red pom-poms. I guess I’m collecting military stuff apparently, my friend Daniel’s Israeli paratroopers hat and now French marine apparel. Next donor?

I slept very well on the overnight train to Paris and arrived here at 7:30 this morning. Despite the grossness I felt from having not showered in the previously sweaty day and a half, I set out to explore Paris almost immediately after dropping my bags in the hostel luggage room. I started my day with reporting — talking to lot’s of Jews in both the Jewish part of Montmartre and the Marais quartier, about anti-Semitism and the impact of Israeli-Palestinian tensions upon the French-Jewish population. Among others, I spoke extensively with a bookstore owner, a group of 20-year-old religious girls and the Israeli owner of a falafel joint. It seems that a lot of Jews are quite afraid here and feel like the French media and government spins everything possible against the Jews. One of the girls said she wears shorter skirts here than she does in Israel so that people won’t immediately detect she’s Jewish, and one man said he covers his kipa with a baseball cap in public.

Oh yeah, and I had a kosher lunch, certified by the Beth Din of Paris. It was nice to be with so many Jews in France today, and made me look forward to Israel (Sunday!!!) even more, despite the fact that I’m loving Paris.

For the rest of the day I ran from place to place, photographing lot’s of the big monuments and walking along the Seine. I just cannot believe I’m in Paris, the fairytale city. City of love and lights — though, the Eiffel Tower doesn’t sparkle as much at night anymore because the city is joining the global greening effort, true story.

In the evening, I met up with Sarah again, and we had a really great time hanging out with two new friends, Alex and Russell, from Texas. We went out to a relatively inexpensive (relatively) near the Champs Elysees, where the food was amazing! (called “Le Hide”). Alex and Russell are a hilarious duo, and we spent the evening snapping ridiculous photographs and drinking “mini Cokes,” tiny little Coca-Cola cans sold at the infamous Monoprix superstore, which largely resembles a Target + groceries. We wanted to climb the Eiffel Tower or Arc de Triomphe, but it was a rainy, wet evening — so hopefully tomorrow the weather will remain great like it was all day today!

Okay, I really need to go to sleep now, and though I’ve already taken 79 photos of Paris according to my computer, I’m going to wait till I’ve taken all of my Paris photos to post them. Bonne nuit, and I hope everyone has had a good week going into Friday/Shabbat/Simchat Torah.

Layla tov.

What a day.

It started out great — I woke up on time for my early train, and one of my new friends — Kristy — walked me to the train station in Nice. At 6 a.m. that train station area is kinda shady, with some vagrants loitering around the vacant sex shops and otherwise seedy premises. I fell asleep on the train, naturally, but set an alarm clock and got off at the correct stop in Avignon.

Getting from the TGV station to the village centre in Avignon was a breeze — I paid just 1.20 Euro for a shuttle bus and then locked my bulky bag in a safe at the train station. Then I headed into the quaint old town, where I saw church after church (big surprise?), and then found a BNP Paribas bank chain. That’s where shit hit the fan.

BNP Paribas has some sort of agreement with Bank of America, where you can use their ATMs at no extra fee. So being the frugal traveler that I am, I was more than happy to find that bank! But apparently, the bank was not happy to see me, and the ATM decided to manger ma carte (EAT my card). Then inside the branch, I was told that no technicians were available till later in the afternoon, but even if they were available, the bank could not give me my ATM card back because for some reason, this would be illegal by French law. They would have to go through some huge bureaucratic exchange process with Bank of America, which would take a while.

So yes, now I have no bank card. Which while incredibly annoying, is not the worst thing in the world that could happen because there are other ways of getting money. If this is the worst thing that happens along my travels, I’d say I’d be pretty lucky.

After this minor mishap, I made my way to the pope’s palace, where there was a second offshoot of the papacy in the Middle Ages. I’m trying to remember why exactly there were competing papacies in the Vatican City and in Avignon…so if someone wants to remind me? Anyway, the palace was huge but kind of stuffy, and there was a German high school class all over the place the whole time. One thing I do remember though was that the pope liked to have 95,000 loaves of bread. I don’t know if that was per day or per year or per what? But that sounded insanely selfish, when I’m assuming all the peasants in surrounding villages were paying him tithes and starving. Or maybe I’m wrong.

After the palace, I finally went to go walk on the “Pont d’Avignon” — the famous bridge in Avignon that is the subject of every middle school French student’s favorite song.

“Sur le pont d’Avignon,
L’on y danse, l’on y danse,
Sur le pont d’Avignon
L’on y danse tout en rond.”

I have to admit, it was kinda amazing to be on that little fairytale bridge and pretend I was a little girl dancing across it.

From Avignon, I hopped on an early afternoon train to Carcassonne, this really petite city with a humongous medieval castle that must have once acted as a fortress. Problem was, there was no where to store my luggage, and it was a 45-minute, partially uphill trek to the castle. Having Jess Dweck’s backpack has been really convenient, but having it on my back for 45 minutes straight was a bit difficult. It’s still sore!

When I finally did get to the foot of the castle though, I had my most interesting experience for the day. I was probably about to keel over from the weight of the bag when a man called out to me in English (accent, but I didn’t know what), asking whether or not the castle was still open. Moments later, he introduced himself as Archie, 37 years old, from Holland. He offered me to store my backpack in his car, and as collateral — so that I’d trust him — he’d let me carry his car key during our trip through the castle so that there was no way he could leave with my bag. I thought that was pretty damn fair, so I took him up on his offer, figuring, worse comes to worse, I lose some sweaty clothing (all my valuables were on me).

So we enjoyed the Carcassonne castle and its surroundings together, and meanwhile, I learned all about Archie. An avid traveler, Archie just got back three months ago from a long trip to India, which was preceded by a trip to Thailand. For the past three weeks or so, he bought a cheap car and has been driving all over France and Spain, site-seeing and living in his car — a small white car that features a huge happy face on the back-right-window.

How was Archie able to afford all these vacations? Well, he answered that question completely honestly. He has been growing, selling and using huge amounts of marijuana for years and years — since he was a teenager I think. Apparently, this business in Holland is extremely lucrative, and he was telling me how you can get so much farther financially by going into this business — all of his friends do it. He said he sticks to pot though because one of his friends ended up essentially terminally ill from a heroine addiction. He also just sold his business to another friend, so he has no idea what to occupy himself with when he gets back to Holland. In Archie’s opinion, marijuana seems to be the one thing that keeps The Netherlands’ economy relatively stable.

When we got back to his car, I retrieved my bag and didn’t end up accepting a ride from him — mostly because he said he smokes pot about five times per day, so I didn’t want to be a passenger in that vehicle. So we parted ways — he to go shower at the campgrounds and type another chapter in his unpublished book — and I to go back to the newer area of Carcassonne.  Don’t worry though, I did do my Sharon duty and advised Archie to stop smoking and doing any such drugs in the future. I wanted to upload a photo of Archie and his automobile here, but for some reason the Internet won’t let me — so check Facebook.

For the past hour and a half or so, and I guess for about the next hour, I’ll be sitting in this Carcassonne Internet cafe finishing up some writing and relaxing. This town seems to pretty much shut down at 6 p.m., and my train doesn’t leave until 11:40 or something I think (I probably should check that? haha). It’s an overnight train to Paris, and I’ll meet my new friend Sarah (who I met in Nice) in the city mid-day.

I hope I enjoy Paris as much as I did when I was 15! See my Facebook profile for updated photos of Nice, Saint Paul de Vence, Avignon et Carcassonne.