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154
Saturday [[strikethrough]] June 2, 1928[[strikethrough]]
July 12, 1930 - Palma - Mallorca, Ballearic Islands,

On Thursday, the 10th, at 12 we left for Marsielles.  In the rather
dusty compartment was a French officer in his hot uniform smoking
a cigarette.  He looked us over carefully and approveingly.  As the
train pulled out an over-zealous engineer backed too heartily
[[strikethrough]] and [[strikethrough]]causing two of our enormous suit-cases to fall- and miss us purely by "le bon chance".  The officer became helpful at once, and incidently an awfully nice person, going home
to Marsielles on leave.  Later the engineer sent his apologies
for the bolt!

July 10
To the rather-middle-west hotel in Marsielles and mail from home.  Bob's letter was really nice and made me so very homesick for him.  Mr McKloskey wrote an awfully sweet letter in which he said — "it is nice to know it (the world) will go on and that there are some people who are lovely in person and lovely in spirit."  There is something to aim for — were I having achieved it, no one realizes it but myself.  Then there will be justifiable self-satisfaction.  Sophia is one of these people, I think.

July 10
Marsielles was a fascinating place, but rather sinister.  Perhaps it was the movie "Männer [[?]] Beruf", which we saw in Berlin last year, which made us feel that about it.  There were grand officers from Africa in white uniforms covering corpulent forms and red stiff hats & tassels over their earnest faces.  There were Arabs in khaki and red.  Men 
with red boleros, blue wide trousers, and queer sinister, white
turbans, and peering brown faces, kind in spite of their sharpness,

155
June 3, 1928

usually bearded and philisophic looking!  One expects them to
be on the desert, leading camels piled with burden, and facing
the sun.  The harbor was interesting with old and new ships,
cobble-stones, [[strikethough]] and [[strikethrough]] little resturaunts, push-carts of queer fish, and the unique sorts of people.  "Bouibasse"- the weird fish soup, of fantastic fish, saffron, bread, and yellow liquid.  the french man with eyes and the bracelet, who called the uncut cheese a virgin, and who followed me out.  Pasha dissecting the Bouibaisse.  The ideal for spot for beavers — fertile beavers — no goatees need count.  The deafening noise.

[[image]]

July 11
These the "Paquebot Djeuila"- a [[strikethrough]] frightfully [[strikethrough]] ridiculously small boat, rather dirty, and dilapidated looking.  Bumping the larger boat on our way out.  The bourgoise people. The artist is IIIrd class.  Supper opposite the buck-teethed, lisping, sex-less English women.  The glorious sun-set- red and that powder-blue.
And immediately on the other side the moon rising a brilliant red — and round, turning orange as it rose, and yellow-gold as it reached the zenith.  A kind, mellow, understanding, warm moon-!  Then dancing with the Captain, a fat, jolly, little person with button-shoe eyes, who sang Rigoletto and spoke only French.  "The boat was rolling so —" and during the night there was quite some storm.  It frightened Mother thoroly, and caused her to ask me if one kept on ones clothes under a life-preserver and me to answer "Yes, the water is cold!" — She was quite afraid and kept asking me such questions or making such remarks.  I rather enjoyed it —
the storm — the motion —.


 

 


  
  


                
       

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