Eleven Minutes Read Online Free PDF Page A
Author: Paulo Coelho
had an agent, she had been given a present of a dress and a pair of shoes that no one, absolutely no one, back home could ever have afforded.
And now what?
She looked out to sea: her geography lessons told her that if she set off in a straight line, she would reach Africa, with its lions and jungles full of gorillas. However, if she headed in a slightly more northerly direction, she would end
up in the enchanted kingdom known as Europe, with its Eiffel Tower, EuroDisney and Leaning Tower of Pizza. What did she have to lose? Like every Brazilian girl, she had learned to
samba even before she could say 'Mama'; she could always come back if she didn't like it, and she had already learned that
opportunities are made to be seized.
She had spent a lot of her life saying 'no' to things to which she would have liked to say 'yes', determined to try only those experiences she could control - certain affairs she had had with men, for example. Now she was facing the unknown, as unknown as this sea had once been to the
navigators who crossed it, or so she had been told in history classes. She could always say 'no', but would she then spend
the rest of her life brooding over it, as she still did over the memory of the little boy who had once asked to borrow a pencil and had then disappeared - her first love? She could always say 'no', but why not try saying 'yes' this time?
For one very simple reason: she was a girl from the
backlands of Brazil, with no experience of life apart from a good school, a vast knowledge of TV soaps and the certainty
that she was beautiful. That wasn't enough with which to face the world.
She saw a group of people laughing and looking at the sea, afraid to go in. Two days ago, she had felt the same
thing, but now she was no longer afraid; she went into
the water whenever she wanted, as if she had been born there. Wouldn't it be the same in Europe?
She made a silent prayer and again asked the Virgin Mary's advice, and seconds later, she seemed perfectly at ease with her decision to go ahead, because she felt protected. She
could always come back, but she would not necessarily get another chance of a trip like this. It was worth taking the risk, as long as the dream survived the forty-eight-hour journey back home in a bus with no air conditioning, and as long as the Swiss man didn't change his mind.
She was in such good spirits that when he invited her out
to supper again, she wanted to appear alluring and took his hand in hers, but he immediately pulled away, and Maria realised - with a mixture of fear and relief - that he
was serious about what he said.
'Samba star!' said the man. 'Lovely Brazilian samba star! Travel next week!'
This was all well and good, but 'travel next week' was out of the question. Maria explained that she couldn't take a
decision without first consulting her family. The Swiss man
was furious and showed her a copy of the signed contract, and for the first time she felt afraid.
'Contract!' he said.
Even though she was determined to go home, she decided to consult her agent Mailson first; after all, he was being paid
to advise her.
Mailson, however, seemed more concerned with seducing a
German tourist who had just arrived at the hotel and
who was sunbathing topless on the beach, convinced that Brazil was the most liberal country in the world (having failed to notice that she was the only woman on the beach with her breasts exposed and that everyone was eyeing her rather uneasily). It was very hard to get him to pay attention to what she was saying.
'But what if I change my mind?' insisted Maria.
'I don't know what's in the contract, but I suppose he might have you arrested.'
'He'd never be able to find me!'
'Exactly. So why worry?'
The Swiss man, on the other hand, having spent five
hundred dollars, as well as paying out for a pair of shoes, a dress, two suppers and various fees for the paperwork at the consulate, was beginning to get
And now what?
She looked out to sea: her geography lessons told her that if she set off in a straight line, she would reach Africa, with its lions and jungles full of gorillas. However, if she headed in a slightly more northerly direction, she would end
up in the enchanted kingdom known as Europe, with its Eiffel Tower, EuroDisney and Leaning Tower of Pizza. What did she have to lose? Like every Brazilian girl, she had learned to
samba even before she could say 'Mama'; she could always come back if she didn't like it, and she had already learned that
opportunities are made to be seized.
She had spent a lot of her life saying 'no' to things to which she would have liked to say 'yes', determined to try only those experiences she could control - certain affairs she had had with men, for example. Now she was facing the unknown, as unknown as this sea had once been to the
navigators who crossed it, or so she had been told in history classes. She could always say 'no', but would she then spend
the rest of her life brooding over it, as she still did over the memory of the little boy who had once asked to borrow a pencil and had then disappeared - her first love? She could always say 'no', but why not try saying 'yes' this time?
For one very simple reason: she was a girl from the
backlands of Brazil, with no experience of life apart from a good school, a vast knowledge of TV soaps and the certainty
that she was beautiful. That wasn't enough with which to face the world.
She saw a group of people laughing and looking at the sea, afraid to go in. Two days ago, she had felt the same
thing, but now she was no longer afraid; she went into
the water whenever she wanted, as if she had been born there. Wouldn't it be the same in Europe?
She made a silent prayer and again asked the Virgin Mary's advice, and seconds later, she seemed perfectly at ease with her decision to go ahead, because she felt protected. She
could always come back, but she would not necessarily get another chance of a trip like this. It was worth taking the risk, as long as the dream survived the forty-eight-hour journey back home in a bus with no air conditioning, and as long as the Swiss man didn't change his mind.
She was in such good spirits that when he invited her out
to supper again, she wanted to appear alluring and took his hand in hers, but he immediately pulled away, and Maria realised - with a mixture of fear and relief - that he
was serious about what he said.
'Samba star!' said the man. 'Lovely Brazilian samba star! Travel next week!'
This was all well and good, but 'travel next week' was out of the question. Maria explained that she couldn't take a
decision without first consulting her family. The Swiss man
was furious and showed her a copy of the signed contract, and for the first time she felt afraid.
'Contract!' he said.
Even though she was determined to go home, she decided to consult her agent Mailson first; after all, he was being paid
to advise her.
Mailson, however, seemed more concerned with seducing a
German tourist who had just arrived at the hotel and
who was sunbathing topless on the beach, convinced that Brazil was the most liberal country in the world (having failed to notice that she was the only woman on the beach with her breasts exposed and that everyone was eyeing her rather uneasily). It was very hard to get him to pay attention to what she was saying.
'But what if I change my mind?' insisted Maria.
'I don't know what's in the contract, but I suppose he might have you arrested.'
'He'd never be able to find me!'
'Exactly. So why worry?'
The Swiss man, on the other hand, having spent five
hundred dollars, as well as paying out for a pair of shoes, a dress, two suppers and various fees for the paperwork at the consulate, was beginning to get
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