A halting attempt at note taking. Ball-pont pen.
Wednesday, May 4
Beautiful day – calm sea. Lounged in deck chairs all day – Bouillon served in morning by deck stewards and tea in afternoon. Spoke with real burgher type [tulip] bulb salesman – pink florid face – blond – spent seven months in U.S.: Detroit, Chicago, etc. Real anxious to get home. Homesick in U.S. because one and two nights here and there impossible to make friends. Have to buy them beers. Doesn't like shabby parts of the U.S. Pace too fast. He's wearing a large button pinned to his jacket that reads, "Relax."
Behind us Dutch kid who used to tend ski lift at Aspen bringing wife, also Dutch, back to Holland after five years. They had to scrimp to do it. Looks more American than Dutch: crew cut, tan, and narrow bow-tie.
At table is Irishman from near London with sideboards chopped off. Worked in Dorchester [working-class suburb of Boston] for six months, lived with sister. Going back, doesn't like it [in Boston]. All the houses are frame, not brick – fire traps.
Two Scots kids at end of table, good looking lads, one with a crew cut, looks like a Yank. They both love the U.S. and want to return – have been working on construction in Canada. Had beers with them, they moaning about dourness of the Dutch and others on board. All old. No dance tonight because of Van Johnson movie, which is jam-packed. Chamber music in the Palm Court. One Scot wants to "gie the fiddler a blanket. He looks so cold." They had both sailed westward on the United States which they said tossed about quite a bit, but there was music and dancing every night from 8:00 PM to 2:00 AM to two or three bands. "Some were beggars but better than nothing."
Full of Heineken beer, retire at 11:45. My bunkie has turned in earlier. Set clock back one-half hour.
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