We had been friends for two years and dating for about four months when our first Rosh Hashanah together came up. Springtime was almost there—we live in Buenos Aires—you could just feel it in the air, despite still cold mornings and evenings.
My boyfriend was Jewish and I was not, but that was barely an issue. We were madly in love and bursting with bliss at our brand new relationship. He celebrated Rosh Hashanah, I celebrated Christmas, though in a very secular way.
But then, on that sunny September morning, it dawned on me that this would be our first religious holiday together and it was likely to be important, both for him and his family. What was the etiquette? What should I expect? What should I wear? Questions started popping into my mind, one after the other. We both knew this relationship was going to be big, so I wanted to make a good impression with my in-laws, but I did not want to look like I was trying too hard.
To make things slightly more difficult, my boyfriend was supposed to take the final exam of his engineering degree that very day and, understandably, the fact that a new Rosh Hashanah was starting that evening was far, far from his mind.
I hit the Internet, but the tons of information available were just too much. I did, however, confirm that Rosh Hashanah was big. It marked the beginning of the Yamim Noraim, whatever that was. Later that evening, I understood that, like in any other field, information is helpful but it can never replace actual experience.
