Sunday, January 27, 1929
I forgot to mention that we passed Monte Cristo last evening. This morning dawned cloudy, rainy, cold. All morning we sailed between picturesque rocky islands and down the mountainous coast of Italy, these mountains being white with snow. One good-sized island was especially beautiful, its high hill covered with snow, the terrace vineyards, the white houses of the small town and just off the island an ancient castle perched high on a projecting rock. As it was awfully misty, it was impossible to see Vesuvius until we were docked and the mist lifted for a few moments. It was awfully pretty, entirely covered with snow, and from its crater a dense white steam issuing slowly forth. It was a miserable day, but Jim and I went ashore. We were pestered to death almost to the point of impatience (and I am patient) with guides, etc. They were almost impossible to lose. You have to insult them to get rid of the pests. One kept hanging on till Jim was getting fed [up] so I told him Jim was about to give him a boot. He left at the next corner. We walked down to the castle and Royal Palace, then followed the bay drive to the park, cutting back through town to the boat. My feet were soaked. I washed my hair and the boat sailed about 4:30.
Met the Ansonia, White Star Line, coming out of the harbor as we entered—bound for New York. It was certainly rolling some. We are too, as the scrawl here testifies. The waves beat against the portholes in the dining room and once a nice big roll sent lots of dishes sliding off the tables onto the floor. My steward says that plenty are sick, but I still have my appetite. At lunch I sat next to a Scot who expounded the beauties of Scotland at great length. We get to Port Said Wednesday at 1PM. I have been missing a meal—supper— of bread, cheese, cakes, and cocoa. A miserable day this, rain and sleet. We pass Stromboli volcano at 1AM and enter the Straits of Messina at 6PM.