***
If people asked me what is the one place that I would visit in Washington, DC, I tell them that I would make it a point to stop by the Holocaust Museum on Raoul Wallenberg Place SW. Most people are taken aback by this answer. Most tourists go to museums to awaken a sense of wonder or amazement in the presence of beautiful art, or remnants of prehistory, or mind-blowing technology. The Holocaust Museum is not a place to be enjoyed. It is a place where you come face to face with the worst and the best in humankind.
I will not dwell on the dark side, except to say that we should never look away from human suffering, that we should never let anything remotely like this ever happen again.
But even in the darkness, some lights refuse to die. At the end of the museum is the list of the "Righteous Among Nations," the non-Jews who helped save Jewish lives during the persecution in World War Two. Some names are familiar (Oskar Schindler comes to mind). My favorite story is that of the Danish people. When Hitler ordered the arrest of the Jews in German-occupied Denmark, a German diplomat alerted the Danish underground, launching a nation-wide rescue of the 8000 Danish Jews. The people of Denmark considered the attack on Jewish Danes as an attack on all Danes. There were stories of Danes hiding their Jewish neighbors until plans were made to transport them by sea to neutral Sweden. Some refugees were transported in large fishing boats and ferries, others in kayaks and rowboats. It is said that some people just went through the phonebook, calling every Jewish-sounding name and warning them of the impending arrests. The underground also organized financing for the rescue, and many Danes donated large amounts to the cause.
By the end of the rescue, it was estimated that over 99 percent of Denmark's Jewish population had survived the Holocaust.
Stories like this always lead me to the conclusion that God exists. For even when confronted by Hell itself, there were people who never lost faith, people who never lost courage, and people who never lost hope.
***
I have found my true calling. I am going to be a sports photographer.
Since I have spent the last eight years completing a Ph.D. and a post-doctoral fellowship in Economics, I am more than halfway there. I think.
From the time I first discovered the joys of an SLR camera, I realized that I preferred motion over stillness in my pictures. There hasn't been a lot of opportunities though, except for a couple of professional games I've been to, as well as the occasional impromptu futbol game in Central Park. The players are not too conscious of the camera's presence; they are too focused on the game to notice, and maybe that's why it translates well in the image.
The Newseum (on Pennsylvania Avenue, right behind the West Wing of the National Gallery of Art) is currently holding an exhibit of sports photographer Walter Iooss, and I am just inspired by the magnificent work he has done for almost a half-century. I took pictures of the exhibit here, and I promised myself to look for more opportunities to photograph different sports. Starting with bringing my camera when Roomie and Ex-Roomie go back to the driving range.
In the meantime, here’s the closest I could get to taking photos at the World Cup.
Drama queen Cristiano Ronaldo:
***
This is apparently the place the Reverend Doctor goes to when he feels a little naughty.
I don’t usually eat out when I am in DC/VA due to the fact that my host is an incredible cook. But Friday night, the good Reverend Doctor instructed me to meet him at Masa 14 in the Shaw neighborhood of DC. Shaw is a historically African-American area close to Howard University. The area has been gentrified for a while, and the beautiful Victorian townhouses probably fetch very good prices. However, the jazz and hip-hop clubs around U Street still give the neighborhood a distinct personality.
Masa 14 comes off as a Latin/Asian fusion restaurant, serving its dishes tapas style. I arrived late, due to a full day of sightseeing, and I was sadly underdressed (really, who dresses up to meet a priest?). Heckle would be mortified. The place was already packed with young Washingtonians who were washing away the memories of the previous week with a dose of Friday night happy hour. I wish I caught happy hour – the drinks were half price. I had a bowl of mussels in chipotle-miso broth, and pork belly steamed buns (of course!). I had a little bit of the good Reverend’s hibiscus margarita (awesome!) but decided on a white sangria (also pretty good). It was pretty reasonable too…I think I paid less than 30 dollars, which is great considering that tax in DC is 10 percent (????!!!). I left the place very pleased and slightly buzzed. Little did I know that my night would end in Georgetown at 3 in the morning. More on that later.
***
I’ll stop here in the meantime. The Germans are killing the Argentines and I need to focus my attention on the game.
(Half an hour later.)
The Argentines did get killed, 0-4. I don't care, I still love Leo Messi (speaking of which, Leo DiCaprio was watching the game in South Africa). You're a tough little (only 5' 6") guy, and you will be in the next World Cup. Looking forward to your next season at Barça.
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