I walk out of a run-down restaurant, where I had just had the best falafel of my life served to me by a waiter who had spoken perfect Hebrew. I look down the crowded sidewalk, walled with sky scrapers. More kosher restaurants are just down the street. Where am I? New York? Tel Aviv? No, I am in Mexico City; a vibrant city home to over 40,000 Jews.  

The 15 mile drive from the airport to my friend Rebeca's home takes us over an hour. There is bumper to bumper traffic, which I am told is not uncommon. The sidewalks are lined with tall buildings painted in lively colors. People busily file in and out of crowded little shops.

My friend Rebeca lives on a quiet city street. In her neighborhood, like many in her area, there are tall walls surrounding the houses. The homes are much smaller than American homes, but living in an apartment is the norm for most Mexican Jews.

My first night in Mexico, I go to Rebeca's grandmother's apartment for Friday night dinner. All of Rebecca's aunts, uncles, and cousins are there. While there are Jews throughout Mexico, most of them live in the capital and this centrality allows families to remain very close-knit.

We are gathering for Shabbat dinner, but there is nothing religious about the evening. We eat challah and gefilte fish but do not say any prayers. Although there is a large orthodox community in Mexico, most are secular. But, many of the non-observant Mexican Jews do attend Jewish schools and intermarriage is very uncommon. All the Jews I meet identify themselves as Jewish first and Mexican second.

I also find that many Mexican Jews feel a strong sense of Zionism. Their schools teach Hebrew and sponsor a trip to Israel after students finish middle school, which ends after ninth grade.

While I am visiting Rebeca, I get the chance to meet lots of young Jews at a mall named Deraznos, which means “Peach Tree.” Like a lot of American teens, Mexican teens do not go to the mall to shop. They gather in the basement of the mall just to hang out and flirt. Everyone dresses up in fashions that are much more European than American. And the universal hello is always a kiss on the cheek.   

Within this tight-knit Jewish community, there are even smaller groups. Mexicans are very aware of their ancestry. The Ashkenazi, Sephardic and Mizrachi Jewish communities each have their own synagogues, schools and Jewish community centers. I also visit the one pluralistic school.

I cannot write about the Mexican Jewish community without mentioning their largest JCC. The main Jewish Community Center is huge and serves as the umbrella organization for the other Jewish Mexican institutions. You can find anything you could want at the J! There is a bowling ally, hair salon and indoor and outdoor swimming pools. Jewish teens participate in sports not through their schools but through the JCC, which explains why you see so many athletes diligently practicing their sport.  

On our way to the airport to head back to the States, Rebeca and I stop at a Starbucks where we run into a group of her friends. I realize how remarkable it is to see Jewish teenagers speaking Spanish and living in Mexico, yet also following so many Jewish customs and traditions. Even though we, Jews, adapt to many aspects of the society in which we live, it seems that we have quite a knack for maintaining our wonderful and unique Jewish culture, no matter where we are.