meshiksa hasidic roots: Black hats and herrings in Willy

Back in Willy for a long stroll. I started by a stroll to see the new graffitis along the East River: nothing amazing, and the photos will be for another blog.

Back to the south Willy to say hello to my favorite hirsute men.
A black hats store was on my road, but the door was locked.
The windows are covered with a paper but you can see what's going on inside if you press the head to them. An old man was there, checking my face with his outside camera.
A note in Yiddish was on the door with the number 2:00. I made the conclusion that it will open at 2pm.
After this time, Hasidic men only came, and rang a bell. A Jewish man, not Hasidic, was smoking outside. I asked him if he thought that they will let me in. He said yes, and that i can ring the bell, and i will see if they open the door.
I did it, and the door opened to me this quiet and pious store.
The kind of store where nothing is on display. You come and ask for a Pupa, Viznitz, Satmar, etc… hat, and you leave with your blue box.
The old man came to me. He was unfriendly, but replied to some of my questions. But i felt that i could not have a conversation about the community and his life. I was unwelcome. Some other Hasidim came him, and looked at me astonishingly.
I wanted to see shtreimels, he only sold black hats. I asked him if i could take photos: "No." That was fine, i left.
I would have loved to see the back of the store, and what they do exactly. Do they fix black hats, do they make them here…?

Black hats store, July 2014, ©emmarubinstein

At the end on this stroll, i talked with a Hasidic woman. I remembered that i had seen a outside sign for another hats store around Bedford or Lee Avenue, Three years ago.
She was friendly, and asked me for waiting two seconds, she had to pick up her son from the school bus. When i saw her kid, i melted: a ginger head with peyos. I told her that he was very cute. She smiled and said: 'Ginger hair?' She has understood right away my passion for ginger and red heads. She too was wearing a ginger sheitel.
She added: "A shtreimel is very expensive."
"I am not going to buy one, i just want to visit a store of shtreimel."

Sun & fringes/he needs a wife, find him one please, July 2014, ©emmarubinstein

There was another Judaica store, locked. The Hasidic man came to open the door.
Another Hasidic man was there too. The store was a real mess. It's small, and smaller because it is divided in two, separated by a folding screen, probably for another mess behind.
Jewish books, kipah, tzizit mixed with kitsch 'secular' gifts made in China.
I started to talk with the owner, asking him if he was Viznitz, according to the height of his hat. He was a Satmar. Hat mess versus store mess, let's go.
I enjoy teasing Hasidim.
"Where is your shtreimel?"
"I don't have one, i am not married."
"What?"
"Hashem!"
"Do you want a Jewish woman? Why aren't you married?" ;-)
"I don't have time, with business."
He was in his early 30s, i think. He needs a woman to tidy up this mess.
The other man, a Pupa one, was older, and asked me why i wanted to know if he was married. How could i know? Only women have this obligation to wear a wedding ring. That's unfair. :-)
The owner wanted to sell me a book absolutely, but which one? The T.o.r.a.h.
I played a game with them: i was the teacher, and asked them to tell me the titles of the five books of Moses: "I don't know them in English."
"Come on, Genesis…"
They were confused, but very stuck to me. The owner was very close to me, and i felt his horniness. He might be virgin. I didn't dare to ask him if he already had a girlfriend.
I wore a shomer shell. He remained very close to me for each Torah that he showed me!
Then, second lesson: "Show me in this book the weekly Torah portion." I got the giggles. The contents were in English and Yiddish. They had a short hard time to find the portion and agreed with it.
"So you don't know, and you study the Torah since you are child?"
They showed me finally the portion. Of course, i don't know it myself, because as you know, i started the Book by the beginning. I bought the Book, a translation of 1962 by the Jewish Publication Society of America, Philadelphia. An old book which smells good!
I wanted him to find a woman, and be less busy by his messy business. :-)
That was not enough for him, he offered me to buy a lamp to read the Torah.
He mentioned many times Hashem as responsible of his destiny. Hashem will decide if he deserves a wife or not. I hope that he already had sex, because, as we say with my mom, that's pretty sad to die without knowing that. :-)

Window, July 2014, ©emmarubinstein

Grocery store, July 2014, ©emmarubinstein

Men, July 2014, ©emmarubinstein

Too much traffic on Lee Avenue, July 2014, ©emmarubinstein

I want to visit all the stores in this area. Sometimes, i don't know what they sell because the display in the windows are not what we can expect. All these windows reminds me my vacations in Poland during three weeks in 1994. Willy is like old times. I have been in dangerous areas, like the Praga market in Warsaw. With the European Union, this district has changed.
http://www.theguardian.com/travel/2008/aug/27/warsaw.poland
But when i was there, i received stones when i was taking photos. I saw an old lady lying on the floor, her head bleeding. Nobody tried to help her. That reminded me that the Polish people were not angels during the WWII. I left, that freaked me out. My cold Lithuanian blood helped me not to show emotions of fear, and i remained quiet. I had a good Jewish star above my head that day. :-)

Windows, July 2014, ©emmarubinstein

The last store where i have been was the fish market. So beautiful. I was, once again, in Poland.
The salmon was so fresh and beautiful. All these beard-ish salesmen gave me the desire to buy their fish. In a fridge, there were herrings. I love herrings, cooked like rollmops:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rollmops
These ones looked like rollmops. An old salesman came to help me, and it was another great moment of misunderstanding of English. I read the ingredients, but i wanted to be sure that they will taste like rollmops.
Rollmops are a part of my childhood. My mom and I have some food adorations in common. We are not going to kill each other, we share, but it's like a sacrifice for both of us not to steal the food of each other. In the pot we used to buy, there always were two rollmops. And we could not find them easily like now.
I asked this salesman what kind of spices it was, if they were like rollmops…? I had to spell r.o.l.l.m.o.p.s. He did not get it! Even spices was hard to understand for him, he replied: "Acid citric."
I gave up with the recipe and the spices, and i took the risk to buy one. He wanted me to buy two.
So, conclusion: they were not pickled, but the taste was the good one, except the ingredient sugar. Why to add sugar to this delicious recipe? Next time, i will buy the salmon, and asked them to cut it in dices, and i will eat it raw right away. I live too far, and NY summers are too hot for the transportation of fish. That will be another occasion to communicate with these salesmen, and i will try some Yiddish words like sugar, spices, fish, cut in dices.
Good luck to me! :-)