Upon entering, I was questioned, and a man asked to see my passport. After being admitted, I climbed several flights of stairs (and one additional flight to head to the balcony where all the women were seated). I suspected that the space followed the Sephardic Orthodox tradition, but this was the first time that I had experienced this blatant gender segregation.
Having arrived somewhat late, I came in during the middle of what seemed to be the Rabbi's sermon. He was preaching (in Spanish) about the necessity for love and peace - a seemingly cliche topic. After speaking, he returned to his seat. Expecting some sort of order, I was surprised when a random man among the crowd began to lead the congregation with the Mourner's Kaddish. The familiar sounds of Hebrew were refreshingly comforting. From there, the service seemed to come to a sloppy conclusion with little unity; each individual recited the prayers out loud at his own pace. A few minutes later, a young boy initiated a prayer, as well. Given the lack of organization, it was quite difficult to discern who was in charge.
With black pants and a blouse, I felt appropriately dressed. Looking around, I noticed a large range of attire from long black skirts to mini denim skirts for the women and athletic pants to suits for the men.
I was caught off guard when the service ended so promptly but on the other hand excited for what lay ahead: the Oneg! At my synagogue, the Oneg traditionally consists of a hearty loaf of challah, some Manischewitz, and an assortment of baked goods. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised to see that this Oneg offered olives, potato chips, slices of meat, and peanuts. Bummer!
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