From the “lost” Jewish town of Endingen to the beginnings of the Jewish State in Basel
On Shabbat morning, as we prepared to see the “Jewish town” of Endingen, Mark learned yet another trick regarding parking in Zurich. The hotel offers a little blue cardboard “parking clock,” good for two hours from whenever it is set. All he needed to do was drop it on the dashboard and we had an additional two free hours. Since we were packed and leaving, Mark set the timer, we dressed, moved the car to the hotel’s lot where there was a small space where while we ate breakfast.
Final images of Zurich: The trolley cables above the intersection at the hotel:
The Sidewalk Cleaner (highly miniaturized and mechanized, but notice the old broom sticking out the back):
Going to Shul on Shabbat Shuvah in Endingen
Mark knew the way out of town; Gertrude “awoke” in “good spirits” by the time we reached the highway. We headed west by northwest and a few kilometers out of Zurich, left the highway and began driving over hills and through small towns until we came to the small village of Endingen.
As our “Cultural Guide to Jewish Europe” and Anne Cuneo had told us, we arrived at the town, turned off the main road that ran through it along the Surb river and within a minute or two found the synagogue building.
An earlier building stood at the same location:
The signage was impressive, with text in both German and (at least partially in) English. It is reportedly one of the very few synagogues anywhere with a clock (on the outside):
To the right of the entrance of the building was a large, quasi fenced-in, yard where apple trees laden with ripening fruit stood. Many apples had fallen and Debbie collected a batch for later snacks. The morning was bright, clear and not too hot, so we made our own semi-aliyah following the official Wanderweg,
up a nearby residential hill where we were able to see a panoramic view of Endingen and a neighboring town.
The literature we had read about Endingen indicates that all houses had two front doors as evidence of “discrimination”; one for Christians and one for Jews as illustrated at the Wikipedia:
The doors look identical; there does not seem to be a mezuzah on either of them. We’ve not seen any further discussion of this. Who used which door? What happened if you used the wrong door? Did they both open into the same foyer? Was there a carpenter’s or door-maker’s guild in the village that was reaping some financial benefit?
Back in town we walked along the main road which parallels the Surb river
to the northern outskirts and then doubled back. Time for a late-morning coffee at the local confiserie. We asked the two young women running the shop where we could find the Jewish cemetery “Jüdisches Friedhof” and were given a hand-drawn map and brief instructions telling us that it was right down the main road a few hundred meters and that we couldn’t miss it.
Generally, one does not go to a cemetery on Shabbat. However, this being שבת שובה, the Shabbat of Return we figured that this was our opportunity to return to a cemetery that (we imagined) received few visitors. We started on our way, but, after what we thought was a couple hundred meters (two football fields) we reconsidered and doubled back. Along a little one-lane foot-path beside the river we met a woman walking her dog. We asked again how to get to the cemetery and she directed us along that path, indicating that it was a bit further than a couple hundred meters, but that we could not miss it. And, indeed, up over a couple of little hills, through fields of corn and other vegetables, along edges of the hill that oozed fresh water, until:
We had been told to call ahead and ask for a key to the cemetery. We had not done so, given Rosh haShannah. So, when we arrived at the gate we were not surprised to see it closed.
However, one easy turn of the handle opened the gate and we walked in. The cemetery is clearly still in use and generally kept in good condition. Some stones are very recent:
while others extremely old:
Some of those buried there had clearly lived nearby:
while others were from far away. Richard Frank survived the Shoa, from Berlin at the age of 95 in 1953!
Though we did not make a thorough search, we saw a number of Dreyfuses, no Prinzes and one “Hurvitz”:
We made a point of washing our hands as we left.
On our walk back to town, we noshed on berries
and took our portrait.
On the east side of the Surb river from the synagogue and standing right beside it (to make use of it) is a lovely building, now someone’s home, that had once been the mikveh. Yes, those are grapes growing up the side of the building.
An old photo from the sign opposite the building makes clear that the windows were placed higher than on other buildings (for modesty purposes?).
We returned to our car, ate apples and headed further northwest. We drove along the Surb as it flowed into the Aar (or Aare) river (which we would meet again in Bern) and then a bit further along where the Aar flowed into the Rhine… and then we followed the Rhine (which we could see on our right) most of the way into our official destination: Basel.
Since the upper Rhine valley of Germany is the original home to Ashkenazi Jewry, it makes sense that this area of Switzerland became the designated home of Swiss Jewry.
On route we saw a sign for Stein. Someone had mentioned the town of Stein on Rhein as particularly picturesque. We figured we should try to see it, but found ourselves crossing the Rhine and the border into Germany. Mark didn’t realize (or remember?) that Switzeland is not part of the EU, continued, ignoring the guard, the German command “Halt!” scaring the heck out of us. We stopped. We were informed we were heading to the wrong Stein. We quickly circled back to Schweiz!
Because Gertrude’s European maps are four years old, she was not aware of the construction on the highway as we approached Basel. Nor was Mark aware of the precise orientation on the map he was using. We wandered in town for a much shorter time than anticipated and quickly found a free parking space belonging to our hotel, the Rheinfelderhof, right in front of the entrance. Mark kept wondering about the image that represents the hotel, a bishop’s crook which serves as the coat of arms for the city.
Our hotel was on the main trolley car route (no cars allowed) leading from one side of the Rhine to the other. All we had to do was step out and walk straight to find our first destination. However (unusual as this is) Mark’s sense of direction was completely turned around and we walked five blocks in the wrong direction before we realized that we should have, by then reached the river. We turned around and headed back. The directional terms in Basel confused Mark. Kleinbasel (what he would have imagined as the older part of the city) is actually the newer portion in the north crook of the Rhine as it flows from west to north. Looking at a larger map, it is clear that the older portion is larger.
Our primary reason for visiting Basel was to take Mark’s picture at the same location as this iconic image of Herzl at the Grand Hotel Les Trois Rois There’s now a very posh café on the terrace, overlooking the Rhine, much like that at the King David hotel in Jerusalem. Mark keeps using the term "inconic" in relation to the photo because of the way it has been used over the years (as on the JNF pin of Herzl overlooking Mt. Zion).
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(It’s not clear who these three kings are. The logo is too small to be able to identify them. Is it a Christological reference?)
Mark is, of course, wearing his Herzl lapel button for the occasion.
And the photo was taken here (inside the red circle), as viewed from the Mittlere Brücke (middle bridge):
Elisabetta Capei at Truffe in Zurich encouraged us to see a chocolate store in Basel, but we had difficulty finding the street… until the concierge at Les Trois Rois realized that it is an alleyway inside a building a block away. We found it and the proprietor inside closing up for the day. She saw us but did not open. We determined to return the next day, as the sign on the door indicated it would be open by 10:00AM on Sunday.
We continued on to our next “official” reason for being in Basel: to take a photo at the “Casino” where Herzl “established the Jewish State,” not a gambling parlor, but a large meeting hall, now a concert hall and called “Musiksaal (Music Hall)” at Steinenberg 14. In late August of 1897, the First Zionist Congress met there.
Debbie took Mark’s photo dodging traffic and streetcars in late Saturday afternoon traffic. We returned the next morning and were able to take a clearer photo of the building, from more or less the same angle.
Relaxing in the lovely nearby park, we read in the “what to do in Basel booklet” that (as we had forgotten from our earlier reading in the Cultural Guide to Jewish Europe) Basel has Switzerland’s only Jewish museum which would be open on Sunday morning, and easily within our walking range.
On the patio in front of the Basel Theater Mark noticed a Richard Serra sculpture Torqued Ellipses and went to explore. We had seen similar works at the Guggenheim in Bilbao. But those were inside a protected environment. It was interesting to see how this one had weathered public exposure. Near the austere simplicity of the Serra is a reflecting pool with a collection of kitschy sculptures by what seems to the the artist laureate of Basel Jean Tinguely
Thoroughly relaxed, we headed back down to “our side” of the river, ate a simple pizza and humous platter dinner, said המבדיל בין קודש לחול as the sky darkened, found a Starbucks two blocks from our hotel and dealt with our accumulated email until closing. Because no cars were allowed on the street, the night was, thankfully, very quiet.
