Sidebar: Don't miss Chamonix

Have you ever heard of Annecy? No? We hadn't either until we saw it on a map of the Rhone Alps, that beautiful lake- and mountain-bedecked region in southeastern France that stretches from Lyon eastward to Mount Blanc, Europe's highest peak.

Graced by a huge lake with a long promenade under a bower of shade trees, an enchanting Old Town, a view of the majestic mountains, and a small but welcoming Jewish community, Annecy (pronounced On-see) in the Haute Savoie district is a lovely, unforgettable town.

Our base was the Imperial Palace Hotel, one of the most beautiful in Europe, both in its impressive architecture and the attentiveness of its staff. An air of tranquility pervades the building, which is set in a verdant, flower-laced park on a mini-peninsula that extends into the lake. The carefully designed rooms have big balconies that overlook the deep blue lake, and guests can enjoy a lavish buffet breakfast in the high-ceilinged dining room or on the spacious veranda. And for those with an itch to gamble, one of France's most famous casinos is located in one wing.

After a 15-minute stroll along the lakeside promenade, visitors enter the enchanting Old Town with its castle perched on a hill, a centuries-old jail that looks like a medieval church and, astonishing Venice-like canals. True, no gondolas scud the water here, but, Venice-like, there are no cars in the Old Town, and outdoor cafes overlook the canals and dot its charming small squares.

Unlike Lyon or Marseilles, Annecy doesn't have a large Jewish presence, but when Sabbath comes, a Jewish traveler can step into a different world, replete with tradition — that portable spiritual artifact that Jews have carried with them since antiquity.

Today, of the 150 Jewish families who live in Annecy — all of North African descent — about 50 participate actively in the Jewish community, while most of the other families come only on the High Holy Days. However, they, too, support the shul and identify as Jews.

In the small synagogue, built by the Moos family in a quiet residential area, Friday night services were led by the congenial, Moroccan-born Rabbi Naftali Suissa, to whose home we were invited for the Shabbat meal.

In other French cities, especially those in the southwest near the Spanish border — like Bayonne and Bordeaux — the Sephardi Jewish presence can be traced back 500 years to the Expulsion from Spain and Portugal; in Annecy, however, it is measured only in decades.

No Jews lived in Annecy before World War II, but Nazi persecution in Paris and other northern cities in occupied France brought Jews here in an attempt to get into Switzerland (Geneva is only 45 minutes away). Annecy was in the so-called Free Zone, under the control of the collaborationist Vichy regime, whose police — depending on where you were — either out-Nazi-ed the Germans or were singularly humane. And thus, some fleeing Jews made it to safety while others were caught.

And here is where the fascinating story of the philanthropic Moos family intersects with the birth of Jewish life in Annecy.

Albert Moos, now in his early 70s and president of the local Jewish community, lives with his wife in a beautiful villa just a few minutes walk from the Imperial Palace Hotel. He carries on the successful industrial metal business founded by his father and enhanced to an international scale by his two sons.

Moos came to Annecy as a young boy with his parents, who were originally from Alsace and were in flight from the Germans. They were able to secure residence in a small hotel, but the Free Zone wasn't really free. The Germans swooped down at will, and the Moos family's hideout was often precarious. But they survived — and because they did, there is a Jewish community in Annecy today.

In the 1960s, when Algeria became independent and about 80 Jewish families came to Annecy, the mayor asked the elder Mr. Moos to help settle them.

"My father," says Albert Moos, "found jobs for them, and these people became the nucleus of the Annecy Jewish community. Later, when Jews from Tunisia and Morocco came and a synagogue was needed, my father bought a building and built a synagogue for these Sephardi Jews, even though we were, and still are, the only Ashkenazi family in town."