Here's something you might be interested in.
Ask a Hipster — Advice you didn't know you needed
Big Screen — Movie commentary
Blurt — Music's inside track
Booze News — San Diego spirits
Classical Music — Immortal beauty
Classifieds — Free and easy
Cover Stories — Front-page features
Drinks All Around — Bartenders' drink recipes
Excerpts — Literary and spiritual excerpts
Feast! — Food & drink reviews
Feature Stories — Local news & stories
Fishing Report — What’s getting hooked from ship and shore
From the Archives — Spotlight on the past
Golden Dreams — Talk of the town
The Gonzo Report — Making the musical scene, or at least reporting from it
Letters — Our inbox
Movies@Home — Local movie buffs share favorites
Movie Reviews — Our critics' picks and pans
Musician Interviews — Up close with local artists
Neighborhood News from Stringers — Hyperlocal news
News Ticker — News & politics
Obermeyer — San Diego politics illustrated
Outdoors — Weekly changes in flora and fauna
Overheard in San Diego — Eavesdropping illustrated
Poetry — The old and the new
Reader Travel — Travel section built by travelers
Reading — The hunt for intellectuals
Roam-O-Rama — SoCal's best hiking/biking trails
San Diego Beer — Inside San Diego suds
SD on the QT — Almost factual news
Sheep and Goats — Places of worship
Special Issues — The best of
Street Style — San Diego streets have style
Surf Diego — Real stories from those braving the waves
Theater — On stage in San Diego this week
Tin Fork — Silver spoon alternative
Under the Radar — Matt Potter's undercover work
Unforgettable — Long-ago San Diego
Unreal Estate — San Diego's priciest pads
Your Week — Daily event picks
Sosua, Dominican Republic
"My friend, my friend!" the men called as we passed. They started as the sun rose, drifting out of their kiosks. "You are hungry, yes? Here is a menu!"
"Pretty necklace for the lady?"
"See this painting! You like? Good price for you!"
The beach of Sosua stretches for a full mile, and all along the white dunes runs a wall of vendors' stalls. The hawkers approached with open arms; they embraced me around the shoulders and smiled like close relatives.
Hard to believe that Sosua was once a Jewish kibbutz built by Jewish emigrants in the 1940s. For nearly a decade, Jewish exiles escaped to the Dominican Republic – the only country in the world to openly accept Holocaust refugees. They built wooden houses, farmed the land, congregated at an ersatz synagogue and spoke German and Yiddish.
A half-century later, the rainforest has reclaimed the meadows and fields. The wooden buildings are gone, and we couldn't even find the temple (where a few stragglers reportedly still worship on the Sabbath).
The only lasting monument is El Museo Judio de Sosua, a small but moving museum that lies on a quiet avenue and is open at odd hours. Far from the hawkers forcing their wares, the Museo offers a quiet exhibit of WWII-era documents and photographs. As we moved around the museum, it was more and more apparent how much the town has changed: What was once a real community has become a depository for tourists and European expats.
As we left the Museo, we saw the baseball field across the street. Kids pitched and slammed homers. They ran and called excitedly. All of them were skinny and wore secondhand clothes.
Sixty years ago, people escaped to Sosua. But every kid on this field hoped to escape from it. Strange, the tide of history.
Here's something you might be interested in.
Sosua, Dominican Republic
Sosua, Dominican Republic
"My friend, my friend!" the men called as we passed. They started as the sun rose, drifting out of their kiosks. "You are hungry, yes? Here is a menu!"
"Pretty necklace for the lady?"
"See this painting! You like? Good price for you!"
The beach of Sosua stretches for a full mile, and all along the white dunes runs a wall of vendors' stalls. The hawkers approached with open arms; they embraced me around the shoulders and smiled like close relatives.
Hard to believe that Sosua was once a Jewish kibbutz built by Jewish emigrants in the 1940s. For nearly a decade, Jewish exiles escaped to the Dominican Republic – the only country in the world to openly accept Holocaust refugees. They built wooden houses, farmed the land, congregated at an ersatz synagogue and spoke German and Yiddish.
A half-century later, the rainforest has reclaimed the meadows and fields. The wooden buildings are gone, and we couldn't even find the temple (where a few stragglers reportedly still worship on the Sabbath).
The only lasting monument is El Museo Judio de Sosua, a small but moving museum that lies on a quiet avenue and is open at odd hours. Far from the hawkers forcing their wares, the Museo offers a quiet exhibit of WWII-era documents and photographs. As we moved around the museum, it was more and more apparent how much the town has changed: What was once a real community has become a depository for tourists and European expats.
As we left the Museo, we saw the baseball field across the street. Kids pitched and slammed homers. They ran and called excitedly. All of them were skinny and wore secondhand clothes.
Sixty years ago, people escaped to Sosua. But every kid on this field hoped to escape from it. Strange, the tide of history.
Comments