For many sixth-formers, finishing A-levels means freedom, an end to life under the shackles of parents and teachers, and a chance to explore the best of Europe. I knew that for me and my friends, embarking on a similar trip to many of our peers wouldn’t be easy.
As frum boys preparing to head to yeshivah just a few weeks later, we knew it was important for us to frame our trip as a pre-yeshivah experience rather than just a rules-free post A-level adventure.
We planned to travel through three countries, experiencing the best of Europe’s Jewish history, natural beauty, and, of course, football stadiums.
Ahron Asher Moss on his European travels (Photo: Ahron Asher Moss)[Missing Credit]
With a year in Israel on the horizon, having only just finished school and with little disposable income, we needed to travel on a budget. For us, flights actually worked out cheaper than traditional interrailing.
Our journey began in Milan, one of Southern Europe’s last Jewish strongholds, with a small community of just under 10,000 Jews, boasting a vibrant religious infrastructure.
As well as a dozen shuls throughout the city, Milan is home to plenty of kosher eateries, making travellers’ sojourns in the city comfortable, kosher and delicious.
Eating kosher while interrailing (Photo: Zaki Noimark)[Missing Credit]
Our first Shabbat gave me a real insight into the unbelievable connection between Jews, anywhere in the world. Despite not speaking a word of Italian, Shabbat in Milan meant familiar tunes, tastes and traditions. I was blown away by how normal everything felt once we were within the four walls of Chabad, despite being overwhelmed by the sights and smells of a new city. The shared language of Jewish life made connecting effortless. Both literally through the davening and singing, which is no different to back home in London, and metaphorically, through a hearty Shabbat meal and games of Jewish geography.
After davening on Shabbat morning, we were invited to stay in shul for lunch by the rabbi. Little did we know what appeared to be an innocent invitation would transform into an entire afternoon where we felt like we were cocooned by kindness.
As people began to leave the table, the rabbi edged towards the corner of the room where we sat, speaking in a mixture of Hebrew and Italian about an array of topics. One repeated message which, incredulously, appeared directed at yours truly, was: “Al tihiyeh itonay!” “Don’t be a journalist!” As my friends began laughing in my direction for having my dreams shattered by the Italian rabbi, an elderly onlooker decided that was the moment to force us all to take another shot of vodka.
After just about escaping from Chabad with a minute degree of sobriety, we were greeted outside the front gates of the shul with the prospect that Jewish lives in Italy truly are at risk.
An antisemitic sticker near the San Siro football stadium in Milan (Photo: Ahron Asher Moss)[Missing Credit]
Parked outside was a military jeep, replete with a turreted machine gun and a squad of soldiers sporting frighteningly oversized rifles. Such security was afforded not only to a place of religious worship, but, shockingly, also to the local Jewish old age home.
One rabbi even warned us against wandering too far, joking: "A few minutes that way and you're in Gaza." Naively, when we noticed a Magen David and Napoli FC badge on a sticker near the world-famous San Siro stadium, we assumed it must mean there was at least some sympathy for Israel in Milan. We couldn’t have been more wrong. The slogan, “stessi colori, stesse bandiere,” (“same colours, same flags”) is used by some of Napoli’s rival fans as an antisemitic taunt, equating Napoli's blue-and-white colours with Israel's flag.
On Sunday, we left our first apartment and set off to Como by rail. Arriving in the Northern Italian town, nestled beside the expansive waters of Lake Como, we felt like we had entered a different world.
Ahron Asher Moss (centre) and fellow travellers (Photo: Ahron Asher Moss)[Missing Credit]
Along with the picturesque scenery and village-like lifestyle replacing the hustle and bustle of Milan, Como also meant unique challenges for us, due to the absence of a Jewish community.
After a 10-minute walk from Como into Switzerland, we travelled on one of the most scenic railways in the world to Lugano, passing Swiss lakes and enjoying Alpine views throughout the entire journey. Caught in a rainstorm for a couple of hours, we researched Lugano’s Jewish past and discovered that the town had been a safe haven for Italian Jews fleeing the fascist regime of the 1940s.
A shul still remained from the Chasidic community that had lived there in the mid 20th century, so we decided to take a picture of the building outside.
Ahron Asher Moss (left) with his friends in the shul in Lugano (Photo: Ahron Asher Moss)[Missing Credit]
One thing this trip taught us is to always test your luck. Who could have expected that a simple knock on the door would lead to us davening, learning and singing with a random group of yeshivah boys from the opposite side of the world?
That night in Lugano, we watched the World Cup on the banks of the lake in an experience that felt like heaven. Being a week before my 18th birthday however, meant I couldn’t even buy my own beer.
Our third location of the trip was the Catalonian municipality of Girona, the birthplace of the Ramban (Nachmanides), the renowned Jewish scholar. While the city had been a thriving hub of Spanish Jewry pre-inquisition, the 21st century Girona is no longer blessed with an active Jewish community.
Ahron Asher Moss and friends, making havdalah (Photo: Zaki Noimark)[Missing Credit]
Arriving in our sweltering apartment (aircon wasn’t included) in El Call (the Jewish Quarter) in the small hours of the morning, directly ahead of the 17th of Tammuz fast day, we opted to stay awake all night, feasting on pasta, protein bars and cup-a-soups until dawn, before davening as soon as possible and sleeping until late afternoon. Thankfully, the day was a breeze, and we went straight back to the pasta following the fast’s termination.
Despite being familiar with stories of the Ramban, the streets of El Call hardly felt alive with Jewish history. As opposed to noticing mezuzot on door frames, our attention was all too frequently drawn to Palestinian flags and even a graffiti swastika, which appeared to have been half-heartedly removed by local authorities.
One frightening experience occurred on our final morning in Spain, when circumstances determined that the only time we could put on tefillin and daven was in public, on the train. Every time someone passed us, we feared they would react aggressively to seeing Jewish people praying openly. Thankfully, we managed to finish davening unscathed.
Laying tefillin (Photo: Shimon Weston)[Missing Credit]
In contrast, when we entered the Girona’s Museum of Jewish History gift shop, we were greeted with words from the non-Jewish shopkeeper that conveyed a warmth and humanity we hadn’t always encountered on the trip. “It's okay boys, you are safe here; you can take off your caps.”
Ahron Asher Moss (left) and his friends outside the Jewish Museum in Girona (Photo: Zaki Noimark)[Missing Credit]
As we say every Shabbat afternoon in Mincha: “Ve’al menuchatam yakdishu et shmecha” – “And through their rest, they shall sanctify Your Name.”
Ahron Asher Moss (second from left) with his friends, on their European tour (Photo:Zaki Noimark)[Missing Credit]
If a holiday is seen as a chance to recharge your batteries and further your connection to Hashem, then what appears to be a break from religious commitment becomes an opportunity for spiritual growth.
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