Shana Tovah, Meh-Glasgow (A Good Year, From Glasgow)

Whew. So I just got back from a bit of a whirlwind first day of Rosh Hashanah, by far the most exotic and energetic of my life. I thought I should write it all down while I remembered the smaller details, though I'm sure I've already forgotten a bunch of things.

This morning I woke up to rain (surprise, surprise), and after quick breakfast to hold me through services, walked down to Oran Mor, the supposed meeting place for the Jewish Society students. The flyer I was given says: "For those who don't want to go alone, we ar emeeting outside the Oran Mor at 10am to walk into town." As a side note, the Oran Mor is the church-turned-pub/theatre that I think I mentioned before. Still haven't been there, but it looks like they also have a nice restaurant.

Anyway, it was a good thing that I was wearing comfortable heels, because I ended up manuevering through lots of puddles, only to wait in the rain for 15 minutes. No one showed up. Thanks, JSoc. I of course neglected to look up the address of the Garnethill Synagogue, and so had no idea where to go. But I headed across the street to the Grosvenor Hilton in hopes of finding a conceirge desk to put me in the right direction. Surprisingly, there was no conceirge that I could see in the Hilton, but a friendly cab driver told me he could get me to Garnethill, although he didn't know where the synagogue was.

After the cab ride I realized exactly how long of a walk it really would have been (probably a half hour or more), so I'll probably take a cab tomorrow, too. We headed up Garnethill St. and the cabbie asked a bystander where the synagogue was. As it happened, we were right next to it. So it seems that somebody up there was looking out for me. After generously tipping the cabbie, I headed into the synagogue.

The random bits of information I've collected about Garnethill Synagogue are very interesting. Apparently it's the oldest synagogue in Glasgow, founded around 1860, though it's clearly been renovated since. The sanctuary is utterly gorgeous, with a domed ark and beautiful stained glass windows. It can probably hold around 200-250 people, but that was for a long time ago. The Jewish population of the UK has been shifting down to London and Manchester, or at least moving out to the suburbs of Glasgow, leaving the cities of Scotland with very small congregations. Someone sitting near me commented on the large turnout Garnethill had for the high holidays, and there were approximately 50 people there.

Garnethill is an Orthodox Synagogue, and so obviously this was the first time I've spent Rosh Hashanah not in a Conservative setting. And boy did I miss it. The women sat in the balcony, and I felt utterly disconnected from the service. This could also be because of the average age of the congregation, which tended towards the elderly. The rabbi read very, very fast through Shacharit and the Torah service, although Musaf took forever. Almost all of the melodies for the songs were different, which might also have added to the separation I felt.

Other random observances:
-The women wore amazing hats, which sort of reminded me of the Church-hat phenomenon you see in movies (and I suppose in some churches)
- Along with the prayer for the state of Israel, there is a blessing for the Queen. I suppose it's logical, but I never thought about it.
- There was much less "announcing" in this service, from the page numbers to the specific prayers.
-The rabbi's sermon was very short (under 15 minutes).

The neat thing about the congregation was their singing. A bunch of the men got up during Musaf and harmonized for each song, almost like a barbershop quartet (though I think there were more of them). It was very pretty, but the rest of the congregation didn't really join in, which made me miss the interactive aspect at home.

I was probably more homesick today than I have been in a while. I really missed being with my family, from the comfort food of the night before, to leaning over to someone during the service. It was tough to read the immortal line "all ye people clap your hands" and not have a brother to snicker about it with. I miss you all a lot.

During the service a kind woman came over to me and pointed out (who I thought to be) Ms. Jesner. In fact, it was another woman whose husband was driving me to the Jesners for lunch. The Jesners don't belong to Garnethill, in fact they live out in Giffnock, a suburb of Glasgow almost 40 minutes away by bus. But the Jesners were wonderful, welcoming people who served a scrumptious, home cooked meal (despite being kosher food, which you can only really get sent from Manchester). No apples and honey (they said that's only done at dinner), but challah and honey, matzah ball soup, roasted vegetables, chicken, meat pastries, fruit, chopped liver, fresh melons, brownies, wine, home-made ice cream, and an apple-pie meringue (which was interesting, but yummy). Two American students from St. Andrews were also there for lunch, one from Poundridge and one from Philly! Funny how small the world really is.

The Jesners have two daughters and a son, though the son is in Japan, and so wasn't home for the holidays. Their Uncle Harry (not sure if he was actually related), a 90+ year old semi-famous band leader was also there, and he was pretty amusing. Apparently the BBC made a TV documentary about him last year. Harry Margolis, I'll have to look it up.

I was there nearly all afternoon, from about 2:00 to 6:00. The Jesners were nice enough to give me their number and said I could come back anytime, which was really sweet. I finally caught the bus/subway back to Hillhead, rushed home to do tashlich on the foot bride, and finally take off my heels. That's not even all of my adventure, but that's all I can manage at this point. It's back to the synagogue tomorrow, and then I imagine I'll just take a nap.

L'shana tovah, everyone.