October 2017

Interior of renovated synagogue in Leadville, CO.

On my way to Aspen, Colorado, to attend a Bat Mitzvah, I stop midway to grab a coffee in a funky little town called Leadville. While sipping my freshly roasted brew, I stroll along Leadville’s charming historic district, that looks more like an old western movie set,  taking in the breathtaking snow dipped Rocky Mountain tops visible in the distance.

Leadville, also known as Cloud City, for its high elevation (over 10,000 feet), is home to just under 3000 residents. I peek inside the Silver Dollar Saloon, dimly lit, but still serving locals since the silver mining boom of the 1800’s, and then walk further down to the Antique Emporium, in search of yet another chachka to add to my collection. In fact, I am so excited about my purchase (a pair of art deco turquoise glass candlesticks) that I almost miss the white sidewalk sign with a large black arrow pointing to Temple Israel Frontier Synagogue & Museum just down the road.

Like a kid on a treasure hunt, I follow, walking past lavender and canary yellow painted gingerbread homes, to the corner of 4th and Pine Street. I know that I’ve reached my destination when I make out three iron Stars of David placed symmetrically on the top of synagogue steeples. Once inside, I am overwhelmed with the beauty of this small two-storey structure, built in 1884- it is said to be one of the few remaining pioneer synagogues west of the Mississippi River.

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A few hours after arriving in Paris, reenergized by the espresso I had upon my arrival, my husband and I set out on our walk, stumbling across the cobblestone streets of the Left Bank in search of the perfect café. Then, it started to pour ferociously.

Since we had no umbrella, we ran to a little café only meters away, joining a gathering of locals who were busy celebrating another workweek ending. Cigarette smoke billowed around them as they laughed and chatted. The waiter must have detected our Canadian French accent as we were seated away from the others, under a covered terrace next to a couple in their late sixties. I guessed they were Americans from the south with their wide smiles and matching jean jackets. In fact, within seconds they told us that they lived in Houston, Texas.

We replied politely to the usual meet and greet questions, and thankfully, glasses filled with champagne arrived soon after alongside an enormous platter of mind-blowing cheese. I was hoping for a romantic start to our holiday, but our friendly Texans had more important matters to discuss.

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