meshiksa hasidic roots: My king called me / Magic Williamsburg

Can you believe that my king swallowed his shyness and called me after nearly 3 years of trading emails?
He too was scared of not understanding my accent. :-)
Such a cutie!
2 hours and half of conversation. Most of the conversation will remain secret.
He explained me the difference between Boro Park and Williamsburg about my impression of the Hasidim less relaxed for the latter.
My king, did you check if the hens had teeth the day after (i.e. if pigs might fly)?
It was a sort of miracle. :-)

Yesterday, i was back in Willy for one of my daily holy stroll. I need to feel G-d by bumping into my little black hirsute men.
I found out in the morning that i always had faith. To believe in G-d doesn't mean that you have faith.
According to Jonathan Sacks: "What they (the rabbis) is faith: faith that effort is rewarded, that dedication is worthwhile, that there is no creativity without risk and no risk without occasional failure. … Faith is not certainty. It is the courage to live with uncertainty. Faith is never easy."

I felt faithful, and good hirsute vibes came to me.
I enjoy wandering in Judaica stores, as you know, looking for the books and other stuffs.

In one of them, i asked for the Hungarian song, and the peyos salesman was smiling as crazy.
- "Where did you hear this song?"
- "A video on YoutTube."
- "Why did you like this song?"
I didn't want to elaborate and, to explain that i have Hasidic friends. There were two other male Hasidim reading close to us. Maybe, he is a troublemaker… Ver veys!

The most delightful meeting was with a Vizhnitz man in another bookstore. We talked during one hour, interrupted by clients sometimes. One of them, a Hasidic woman, apologized to cut us in our conversation. I told her that it was fine: we were talking about her community that i like so much. She was with two friends, less friendly. I felt that she might be interested to be a part of this conversation if she has been alone.

I can be bad to remember faces, but i think that i already had a conversation with this man.
We started by translation of 'You welcome' in French and in Yiddish. Same meaning in French and Yiddish. In French we say 'De rien', meaning 'Of nothing'.

He told me his story: where he was born and raised, how he met his wife… He explained me how it works in his community to find the 'good' match.
He is married since 25 years to the same wife. He looked so young that i had to ask him what it was his secret.

We too talked about the problems of an arranged marriage with someone you are not able to love. He has understood my arguments. You can't buy love, and chemistry between two people.
Love is allowed in the Torah, it doesn't mention arranged marriage. His argument is that the parents want the best for their children. Indeed! But does it mean that they have to choose the person who will share their life? He agreed

He asked me how i met Hasidim. I didn't lie, and he wanted to know why my king, happily married, needed to go on Craiglist.
"To have a breeze of freedom, and share conversations like we are doing right now, with someone who is an outsider."

Outside, there was the Monroe bus, the Kosher bus, as my king says. I want to go to Kyrias Joel, and take a bath of hirsute black men. :-)
"Wear a tee-shirt, write "Spank me!" in the back. It's what you want?", my king suggested me on the phone. I bursted out laughing.
The Vizhnitz man said: "You can take the bus, but you need to wear something to cover…" having his eyes on my cleavage that was not deep, because i was in Willy. :-)
-"It's not that you don't like cleavage, but you don't want to see it. You like seeing cleavage.", i said with a big smile. :-)
He thought that in Crown Heights, in Chabad community, you can wear cleavage. Not at all, i had to cover Mister and Missy Boobies for the Shabbat meal. :-)

We talked about divorce, and he asked me if in my world or his they are more divorces. I don't know the numbers, but usually in both worlds, people don't get divorced because of the children. In his world, there is the pressure of family, community… They need the agreement of the rabbi… In my world, that seems easier.

Finally i introduced myself, and i liked the European way he pronounced Rubinstein, "Rubinstaïn" instead of "Rubinsteen", in the American way.
He introduced himself, only mentioning his first name.
The last Hasidic that i met up in person, showed me his ID that i didn't want to see. I was more focused on his photo where his peyos were bigger and thicker than the ones he has now.

I said to my king that i would like to kidnap some Hasidim to come with me in Paris.
I could rent an apartment for them and their family. Their job would be to walk around my place all day to make me think of a Brooklynite landscape.
My king suggested to come and visit me in Paris. I told him to hide his peyos, because Parisians are not so tolerant. There are tensions between communities. He could wear a wig, he said. What kind of wig?
:-)