As some of you know, I make my annual pilgrimage to the sleepy little Mexican village of Yelapa this time of year. Yelapa is a town of under 1,200, accessible only by water taxi from Puerto Vallarta. It is a delightful traditional small Mexican village comprising a church, two or three small grocery stores, about a half dozen restaurants, 50 burros, a handful of ATVs and intermittent high-speed Internet. There is a lovely beach visited daily by excursion boats from Puerto Vallarta loaded with lily-white tourists frantically waving their free cerveza tickets at a half a dozen beach wranglers competing to cut their share of them from the herd.
This year my visit coincides with the Chanukah. I decide it might be an interesting experience to introduce Yelapa to the holiday. My good friend, Dave Billman, is not Jewish but, in a moment of ecumenical zeal, agrees, and we go about planning a Chanukah fiesta, complete with candlelighting and potato latkes.
From the Internet, I download a template of a Chanukah invitation and print off about two dozen of them in both English and Spanish and disseminate them to people we know either from previous visits or folks we’ve just met in town. It comes as a surprise when we encounter at least two other people who claim to be Jewish and ask to be included. We say, “Sure, the more the merrier!”
Being a small town, word quickly spreads that we are planning a fiesta with free food and beer (a Chanukah tradition). The Mexicans are confused right from the start by the invitation with all the candles on it and assume it is a birthday party. I have to keep telling them presents are optional.
The traditional food of Chanukah is potato latkes. Making them at home isn’t too difficult – if you have a food processor. Unfortunately, we do not have one and have to revert to grating the potatoes and onions by hand, a somewhat labor-intensive and dangerous activity as Dave can attest, given the number of Band-Aids he sports by the end of the grating process.
We aren’t sure how many people might show up so we decide to make a hundred latkes, which leads to the now famous Yelapa Potato Famine as we virtually empty the town of spuds.
For three days, Dave and I sweat over oil-spitting frying pans manufacturing latkes in 85-degree heat and 90-percent humidity. A sudden thought occurs to us: what if the whole town shows up? Immediate plans are implemented to augment our supply of latkes in case they prove inadequate. We strong arm our neighbors into contributing to the cause: a gallon of ceviche from one, a tub of guacamole from another, a foot-high stack of tortillas, and a five-gallon jug of a local fruit drink for the children and non-alcohol drinkers.
Dave and I had been fishing a few days earlier and had caught a sailfish and several Mahi Mahi and decide to contribute them to the fiesta, as well. Cases of beer and bushels of ice are pulled up the hill by burro and finally the big night arrives, and Dave and I anxiously await the arrival of our guests … and wait … and wait….
Eventually about a dozen or so wander in. It appears there is a fair amount of competition in Yelapa that evening: the opening of the Yelapa Yacht Club (which has neither members nor yachts), a baby shower, a wedding and a boxing match on TV. Chanukah is definitely a low-priority event in Yelapa – even with free beer and latkes.
I explain the significance of the festival: how 2,500 years ago the Syrian-Greeks captured the Jewish Temple in Jerusalem and desecrated it. Several years later, a rebellion under Judah Maccabee recaptured the Temple, but the oil they needed to rededicate it was only enough to last for one day. By some miracle, the oil lasted for eight days until a re-supply arrived. I explain that it is traditional to say a couple of short prayers as we light the candles. My Mexican guests nod and break into a spirited Spanish version of “Happy Birthday.”
Accompanied by the Barenaked Ladies (who just happened to be in Yelapa on my iPod) the blessings are quickly dispensed and I send Dave down to our suite to bring up the latkes. Given the massive amount we had made, I figured if each of the assembled guests eats 17 of them, we’ll be OK.
The latkes and Dave arrive amid a cacophony of barking dogs that have just flushed a skunk out from under the stairs that immediately makes his presence known to all far and wide – and puts an unceremoniously quick end to the first Yelapa Chanukah party. As one of our guests says as he leaves, “That Judah hombre should have just sent a skunk into the Temple. That would have cleared out those Syrians in no time.” I have no rebuttal.
Dave and I are not planning a second party so now the question remains: what to do with 60 surplus latkes?
Happy Chanukah from Yelapa.
Jeffrey Groberman is a well-known Vancouver writer and television producer. His travel articles also appear in the Vancouver Sun and Province.