Thursday, December 6, 1928
Today I came on to Nice on the morning train, arriving at one. Dad has sent my 75 bones to Madrid so as not to get to me late. I hope it doesn’t rot before I get there. Thus, from wealthy I am reduced to being poor again, for I am a month behind on the allowance or rather will be nearly five weeks behind when I get to Madrid. Can’t lose any time now for every day counts. Have about $31 and a visa to get which means about $28 to get me nearly 900 miles. I’ll do it all right but will have to go easy.
Got my suit today, all nicely cleaned and pressed so it looks like new except a small rip in the seat of the pants, that looks like he–. Now I have to pack it away for some 8 or 10 days before I can wear it. The country is nice and level at least for the next 250 miles and the roads are fine, but it is freezing cold early in the morning and gets dark and cold at four. This cuts down the riding hours by two or three.
I am having lots of fun watching people’s faces for expressions and reading their characters. Lots of types to practice on. Yesterday afternoon I went to the Chateau d’If from Marseille, about ¾ mile out from shore. It was choppy and the boat small. We tossed about like a cork and often would be presented with a nice bath as a wave splashed over the side. One man in particular took things in a sour way that made me laugh. Maybe he didn’t want to get his derby wet or wetter. Just a mass of rock protruding from the waters, the Île is not so darned cheerful looking. The chateau is cold, damp and gloomy. Many of the prisons and dungeons are plain dark. Thus friends Edmund Dante and the Abbé F. had dark ones and the hole, so famous, is still there but strange to say it only goes through a few inches of stones plastered up with mortar. Each prison is marked, telling who was the unfortunate imprisoned there. It’s about time I was hitting the hay as I must make mileage tomorrow so I can get to Marseilles Saturday before four for my visa for Spain. Spent half the war debt today, $4.44.