This will be the briefest of notes, because the tender is leaving soon to take the ship’s mail. But I can’t give up the chance to describe the scene before us: We’ve docked at Port Said, and the setting sun is bathing the Sinai range with gold! Along with many fellow Jews, I stand at the rail, my heart stirred at the sight. Paul laughs at me, his skeptical sister; and truthfully, I have no idea which of the peaks before us might be Mt. Sinai itself. Nor does he, I might add. Nor do any of the crew seem to know, though they’ve made this voyage before.

The crew, by the way, treat us quite respecfully. An Italian steward confided, in poor but heartfelt German, that he was grateful to be at sea. On land, as he put it, “She’s all gone crazy!” This cordiality extends to the ship’s engineer, a Bavarian. He seems amused by Paul’s fascination with the machinery, and is pleased to have someone with whom to discuss it in German. He’s invited him to visit the engine rooms at any time. I take hope from the attitudes of these men that the madness sweeping Europe will soon come to an end.

But until it does, and despite my own impatience with the Talmud’s more ridiculous tales and constricting injunctions, I stand at this rail with my fellow refugees, and declare myself a Jew.

Your Rosalie

You go, girl, I thought. I snuggled more deeply into my blanket and went on to the next letter.

23 April 1938

Dearest Mama,

I hope you and Uncle Horst are keeping well, and are at this moment racing to Trieste to board a ship! Paul points out that if you are, of course, this letter will miss you. But I won’t mind having written in vain, if it means we’ll be together soon. I would gladly repeat myself as we sit over coffee-or fragrant flowery tea, as taken by the Chinese.

Now, you ask, how is it I can speak about Chinese tea, still three weeks from China ’s shore? Mama, I’ve had the most fascinating encounter! Here is what happened: