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Authors: Laurent Seksik
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here.”
He forced a faint smile.
“Look over there, look outside,” she exclaimed.
It was the most breathtaking panorama. The horizon opened up. Earth, water and fire filled an immensity of space. The sky stretched into a gigantic arc. Bright-green ranges of hills sloped down to valleys seemingly teeming with life. The jungle wrapped its tentacles around little white houses. Nestled under the shade of palm trees, an agglomeration of huts was wedged in between various paths. All of a sudden, Rio came into view: a horde of skyscrapers perched in the middle of a row of palaces and avant-garde architecture. The city was enveloped by the foamy arm of the ocean, dotted by green islets, ocean liners and sailing boats. To the right was
Christ the Redeemer
atop Corcovado, which stood guard over that world of giants. Everything was limitless and illuminated. The more the train forged ahead, the more the contours of the world seemed to widen. Beauty had been bequeathed to each corner of the world, and far from being overwhelmed by such magnificence, man in his haughtiness thrived in it.
He broke the silence. Sounding gloomy, he asked her if she thought the tooth-pulling was going to hurt.
She didn’t reply.
They hailed the first taxi in front of the station and climbed in. Lotte gave the driver the name of the hotel where they were expected.
“The Copacabana?” the taxi driver said. “That’s the prettiest place in the world!”
They cut through alleyways, then took to a highway ruled by a state of constant restlessness. “You’d think we were in New York!” Lotte exclaimed. She rolled the window down. He cried out, telling her to be careful since the air simply had to be saturated with dust and dirt.
“I’m afraid of nothing here!” she exclaimed.
He envied her high spirits and thought that she was right, one had to live day by day and dispel the belief that tomorrow would be worse than yesterday. To recognize the fact that they were safe. Nobody would come looking for them here. The taxi crawled along a street lined with shops and luxury hotels. His eyes fell on a sign bearing the name Alberto Stern. He couldn’t spot any notices calling for murder on the window, nor any saying “
Juden
” or “
Raus
!”. There was no poster denouncing a Jewish conspiracy on the walls, no caricatures of pot-bellied, hook-nosed bankers with pockets bursting full of money.
“Where are you from?” the taxi driver asked.
Lotte replied that they’d arrived the previous month on a ship from the United States.
“Are you Americans?”
“No.”
“You don’t look like you are. We love all strangers here, except for Americans. The Americans think they’re at home everywhere they go… You’re Europeans, that much is clear, you’re clearly people of fine taste. We love elegance, don’t let the dirty streets fool you. Brazilians are a great people… And you, which tribe do you belong to? You have a German accent. We’ve had plenty of Germans here in the past few years. Those Germans are really nice. They fit in quickly. They were paupers when they first arrived, but within the space of ten years they’ve bought up half of Rio. So much the better, it’ll be good for business. I believein the economy. Whole boatfuls of Germans come ashore every day. I’m all for it. I go to the docks every day at eight o’clock on the dot and wait. A single family will earn my keep for the day. Although, between you and me, they’re not as generous as they used to be. One might say the good times have come to an end. Boats and people’s pockets don’t seem as full as they used to be. So, are you Germans?… Austrians maybe? That’s also good… One of my customers told me that Austria didn’t exist any more, that it had become just another German province. I’m not into politics. The Germans wanted Hitler, nobody forced them. Brazil might also benefit by being ruled by someone with an iron fist. President Vargas is the
He forced a faint smile.
“Look over there, look outside,” she exclaimed.
It was the most breathtaking panorama. The horizon opened up. Earth, water and fire filled an immensity of space. The sky stretched into a gigantic arc. Bright-green ranges of hills sloped down to valleys seemingly teeming with life. The jungle wrapped its tentacles around little white houses. Nestled under the shade of palm trees, an agglomeration of huts was wedged in between various paths. All of a sudden, Rio came into view: a horde of skyscrapers perched in the middle of a row of palaces and avant-garde architecture. The city was enveloped by the foamy arm of the ocean, dotted by green islets, ocean liners and sailing boats. To the right was
Christ the Redeemer
atop Corcovado, which stood guard over that world of giants. Everything was limitless and illuminated. The more the train forged ahead, the more the contours of the world seemed to widen. Beauty had been bequeathed to each corner of the world, and far from being overwhelmed by such magnificence, man in his haughtiness thrived in it.
He broke the silence. Sounding gloomy, he asked her if she thought the tooth-pulling was going to hurt.
She didn’t reply.
They hailed the first taxi in front of the station and climbed in. Lotte gave the driver the name of the hotel where they were expected.
“The Copacabana?” the taxi driver said. “That’s the prettiest place in the world!”
They cut through alleyways, then took to a highway ruled by a state of constant restlessness. “You’d think we were in New York!” Lotte exclaimed. She rolled the window down. He cried out, telling her to be careful since the air simply had to be saturated with dust and dirt.
“I’m afraid of nothing here!” she exclaimed.
He envied her high spirits and thought that she was right, one had to live day by day and dispel the belief that tomorrow would be worse than yesterday. To recognize the fact that they were safe. Nobody would come looking for them here. The taxi crawled along a street lined with shops and luxury hotels. His eyes fell on a sign bearing the name Alberto Stern. He couldn’t spot any notices calling for murder on the window, nor any saying “
Juden
” or “
Raus
!”. There was no poster denouncing a Jewish conspiracy on the walls, no caricatures of pot-bellied, hook-nosed bankers with pockets bursting full of money.
“Where are you from?” the taxi driver asked.
Lotte replied that they’d arrived the previous month on a ship from the United States.
“Are you Americans?”
“No.”
“You don’t look like you are. We love all strangers here, except for Americans. The Americans think they’re at home everywhere they go… You’re Europeans, that much is clear, you’re clearly people of fine taste. We love elegance, don’t let the dirty streets fool you. Brazilians are a great people… And you, which tribe do you belong to? You have a German accent. We’ve had plenty of Germans here in the past few years. Those Germans are really nice. They fit in quickly. They were paupers when they first arrived, but within the space of ten years they’ve bought up half of Rio. So much the better, it’ll be good for business. I believein the economy. Whole boatfuls of Germans come ashore every day. I’m all for it. I go to the docks every day at eight o’clock on the dot and wait. A single family will earn my keep for the day. Although, between you and me, they’re not as generous as they used to be. One might say the good times have come to an end. Boats and people’s pockets don’t seem as full as they used to be. So, are you Germans?… Austrians maybe? That’s also good… One of my customers told me that Austria didn’t exist any more, that it had become just another German province. I’m not into politics. The Germans wanted Hitler, nobody forced them. Brazil might also benefit by being ruled by someone with an iron fist. President Vargas is the
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