21st Century Bogatyr: The Beaches and Coastal Shtetls of Planet Birobidzhan

by Zvi Baranoff

The guest house that Tamar had chosen was clean and airy. The room was brightly painted and pleasant. The bed was comfortable. The ceiling fan cooled the room. Yet, Tamar could not sleep.

Tamar turned one way and then another. There was no position that allowed for comfortable sleep. She felt like the princess in the ancient tale mit a bebl under her mattress. Something infinitesimal and unseen was so disruptive that sleeping in the guest house was impossible.

When exhaustion would start to supersede discomfort and Tamar's eyelids grew heavy, she would then hear the voices, arguing. Tamar would bolt straight up, looking around for Baruch and Shmuli.

All around her, there was darkness and the room was empty. The bickering voices would fade and then go silent. Again, Tamar would try to sleep but rest never came.

Tamar had nearly given up all hope for sleep. She went to the vashzimmer and splashed her face with water. She looked at herself in the mirror and hardly recognized the reflection. She was very tired and felt very much alone.

Tamar stepped outside and gazed at the view of unfamiliar constellations that the sky south of the equator offered her. The air was balmy and filled with the fragrances of a myriad of exotic tropical flowers.

In the courtyard of the guest house, slung between two trees, there was a hammock that invited rest and offered an unencumbered view of the sky. There, Tamar managed a few hours of sleep, temporarily freed from the bickering voices for a little while until sunrise.

On checking out, Tamar asked the balabusta of the guest house if there was a place in Eilat where a hammock could be purchased. After some hemming and hawing and a bit of negotiation, the innkeeper sold Tamar the hammock that she had slept in.

Tamar wrapped the hammock up and tied it to her rucksack. She went from there to a small grocery and then Tamar set out tsufus down the goat path leaving town to explore the Tropics of Birobidzhan.

There is very little traffic along the goat paths that connect the coastal shtetls of the Tropics of Birobidzhan, especially after Purim. The coastal dwellers prefer to not travel. When they feel compelled to go up or down the coast, they will choose to do so by boat.

The goat paths are used to some extent by the more adventurous of tourists, in season. Most outside visitors, however, rarely explore much past the stadt of Eilat, where there are an array of facilities that cater to tourism.

The paths are also used by small children when going to, perhaps, the next closest village to visit friends or family. The older children, like their elders, prefer to go by boat.

When entering the shtetls by goat paths, one is unlikely to see any signage whatsoever. Where the towns are linked by goat paths, that part of town is thought of as the outer fringe or backside of the shtetl. This is where one might find a dump, slaughterhouse or some limited and fairly primitive industries.

The oceanside and dockage are generally perceived as the front of the shtetl. On the dock one is likely to see a colorful sign with an exotic town name such as Tangiers, Marrakesh, Caracas and Habana.

Between the tiny shtetls that dot the coastline are some of the most incredibly spectacular beaches to be found on any planet. The sand colors on these beaches vary from pink to peach to lavender. Tropical foliage borders the sands. The warm waters are frequented by large schools of colorful fish. Birds with a cacophony of sounds and colors perch in the trees and fly above in large flocks.

The beaches remain beautiful because of their remoteness. The beaches are only accessible tsufus, and most people will not walk for miles to visit even the most spectacular beach.

Tamar mostly camped on these beaches that are between the outlying shtetls. She would string her hammock between trees or sleep directly on the soft sand dunes, staying in one place for two or three nights.

Camping provided some relief from the sounds of arguing that haunted Tamar's nights. She began to believe that the struggle was taking place within her womb.

Tamar rarely saw another person between the shtetls and she had the beaches to herself. She would swim naked and sun herself on the soft sand.

Then, after a while, she would walk to the next shtetl, where she would seek out necessities.

On the whole, households in the Tropics of Birobidzhan grow most of their own vegetables, raise a few animals for meat, bake their own bread, and either do their own fishing or buy fish directly from the fishermen. In most shtetls, there is a small shop that offers a very limited array of consumer goods and a few groceries.

Market days on mantik aun danershtag provides more choices than the tiny stores. Tamar preferred to arrive at a shtetl on a Monday or a Thursday. On these days fresh vegetables are available and often baked goods.

Tamar rarely stayed overnight in any of the shtetls, although there were the occasional exception. There are few accommodations to speak of. Some of the town folk have an extra room that they will offer to rent to the rare traveler passing through.

When Tamar entered a shtetl, she was often greeted by one of the balabustas, and she was offered a home-cooked meal and perhaps a place to spend the night. Inevitably, there was a son, brother or grandson in need of a wife and the balabusta set right into matchmaking.

Tamar was not looking for a husband. Some of the young men of the shtetls were pleasant enough perhaps for a dalliance but none were the sort that she could imagine forming a long-term association with, much less a marriage.

Even after Tamar's abdomen began to swell and her pregnancy was no longer easily disguised, the matchmaking efforts did not abate much until she became so large that her gait turned into a wobble.

In the early evening, on the docks of these coastal shtetls, the fishermen without wives and children to go home to would gather to feed and entertain themselves. They would cook fish heads and other less marketable parts from the day's catch along with potatoes and peppers into a thick, seasoned, savory stew that they call jambalaya.

The fishermen all served themselves from their communal pot and drank schnapps profusely late into the night under the equatorial stars.

The musicians among the fishermen would play their accordions, harmonicas and Jews Harps.

When Tamar felt a desire for social interactions, the docks among the fishermen is where she felt the most comfortable. She would open her violin case and join in with the amateur klezmorim and was always welcomed and also well fed.

Tamar's pregnancy was quite advanced by the time autumn approached. Getting around on her own, tsufus, became significantly more difficult and the increased number of tourists entering the region made the Tropics of Birobidzhan less satisfying to her than before. Tamar determined that it was time for a change.

Tamar found her way back to Eilat and traveled on the ferry to New New York.

Tamar disembarked the ferry in Seaside Mea Shearim. From the distance, she watched Baruch and Shmuli descend the steps of the yeshiva where they were still students. She saw them walking towards their apartment, gesticulating and arguing. Tamar smiled as she watched them walking away, unaware of her presence.

Tamar boarded a streetcar by the docks and rode it to Tsenter Shtot. She had enough time to go to her bank and make a withdrawal before heading to the train station. She got herself a sleeper car on the train to First Landing and arrived at her family home relatively rested early the next morning, a very rare congruity of efficiency for Planet Birobidzhan.

This is not a Jewish story. It is, however, a story about Jews. One does not need to be Jewish to read this tale any more than one needs to be a Hobbit or an Elf to read Lord of the Rings.

This story is a work of fiction. The setting for this tale is in the distant future, on the far away Planet Birobidzhan. This planet was settled by Jewish exiles from Planet Earth.

The population of Planet Birobidzhan has been cut off from the Home Planet for a long time. They have developed their own unique culture, traditions and linguistics.

The language spoken on Planet Birobidzhan is primarily Yiddish. I have sprinkled a significant number of Yiddish words and phrases throughout the telling of the tale. I also refer to various Jewish religious and cultural touchstones.

To make this story more accessible, I have included a glossary of words and phrases in Yiddish and Hebrew that are used as well as some explanations of religious terms and holidays.

I hope that readers find this to be useful.

The link to the Glossary is here:

https://21stcenturybogatyr.blogspot.com/2023/01/a-useful-guide-glossary-to-planet.html?m=1

פּלאַנעט ביראָבידזשאַן

Do you want to read more about Planet Birobidzhan? Here are all the installments so far, in the order that they were posted. Just click your way through the story!

1 On A Planet Safe for Yidden

https://21stcenturybogatyr.blogspot.com/2022/02/on-planet-safe-for-yidden.html

2 Yenne Velt: A History of Planet Birobidzhan

https://21stcenturybogatyr.blogspot.com/2022/02/yenne-velt-history-of-planet-birobidzhan.html

3 Another Globe, Perhaps?

https://21stcenturybogatyr.blogspot.com/2022/02/another-globe-perhaps.html

4 Bereshis: The Transport & Transformation of the Founders

http://21stcenturybogatyr.blogspot.com/2022/03/bereshis-transport-transformation-of.html

5 The Town of First Landing

https://21stcenturybogatyr.blogspot.com/2022/03/the-town-of-first-landing.html

6 A Personal History of an Early Settler on Planet Birobidzhan

http://21stcenturybogatyr.blogspot.com/2022/05/a-personal-history-of-early-settler-on.html