Well, it looks as if I'm stuck in Athens overnight. But at least it’s a good place to be.… [W]hile the bed will be welcome, I feel swell and not a bit tired. So far at least, this assignment has been easier than covering murder trials—much prettier.
Breakfast in Europe, luncheon in Africa, and maybe supper in Asia!… Before us lay a romantic pathway—Mediterranean island stepping stones bearing names that conjured up tales of Greek heroes.
Some day I’m coming back and really get to know Athens. Making a mad dash around the world you see just enough of strange and interesting places to want to stay. It’s like ordering a seven-course meal and having the waiter say you can’t have anything but soup.
I spent exactly an hour and a half in the Holy Land, swinging down from Alexandria onto the Asiatic continent at 8:20 a.m. …and was off for Rutbah Wells, which I hope the pilot can find, at 9:50.
Seems Imperial Airways doesn’t go on a time table, but on an eat table, and one can almost hear the announcer bellowing: “The next plane for breakfast leaves at so-and-so…. Due in Rutbah Wells at lunch time!”
The desert wastes are full of wild tribesmen who take potshots at planes. That’s all right, for the pilots fly out of range. The danger is that a sandstorm or a leaking gas line—any one of a dozen things—may force us down in the territory of these wild tribesmen.
The Near East reeks with romance! But nothing on the whole eight days’ dash has surpassed Bagdad in thrills, for not even its modern paved street and Piccadilly atmosphere could efface the aura of glory with which this little girl’s story books have bathed old Bagdad.… Star-studded skies hung low over Bagdad when we landed last night, and from behind the towering minarets there rose a crescent moon.
For the first time on this long trip through many lands, I felt a real foreboding sense of danger. A special guard was posted around the fort, made up of Arab tribesmen furnished by the local sheik. Bearded, unkempt, with long scimitars in their belts, they looked for all the world like they might themselves have been a gang of Ali Babas.
We made Basra in four hours flat and had breakfast. Ripe dates and figs—and coffee. The town is on the Gulf of Persia, and sometimes the Tigris overflows it with mud. That’s what the coffee was made of. The dates and figs were delicious, though.
From Jodhpur, where no less than the Maharaja himself gave this little girl a hand, we flew first to Delhi. We crossed low mountain ranges where, I was informed, leopards and other not-so-gentle members of the cat family thrive.