Tuesday, December 4, 1928
I left for Marseille on the boat. It happened to be the worst and the slowest boat on the line and 2nd [class] was n.g. As we got outside the bay I could see Sardinia to the south. Dinner time rolled around and but ten people appeared at the table. The rest were sea-sick for the boat rolled a good bit on the swells. Cie. Froissiant know their stuff on saving money. They put the dining room in the poop under the deck where every movement of the ship is much magnified. Felt like one of the elevators that drop and then stop suddenly. Your gizzard goes to your shoes. It was a merry repast—at the start. But one by one they left, some in a hurry, some with more show of dignity. It was very plain that some didn’t reach the railing in time. By the end of the darned good dinner, only four of us remained. I was already full when I started and the parachute effect didn’t help any. Thus I ate très sparingly and only ventured a half a glass of wine. Our bunks were also in the poop and I suppose we traveled as far up and down as forward. Wasn’t so bad though, lying down. $3.85.