Saigon, French Indo-China

Friday, August 9, 1929

Woke up this morning feeling pretty rotten and so have remained in bed all day almost with a little fever. Has tried to have a thunder storm all day long but thus far unsuccessful.

Saigon is a nice place and the women here paint a la Paris, but there is little or nothing to do. Considering the time and what I could see on my would-be financial condition, I have about given up the idea of going to Manila, unless another good chance comes along.

See the Graf Zeppelin is now out for a round-the-world cruise but don’t know the exact course. I’ve probably already missed it in Japan.

Kodak films are only 40¢ or 45¢ here and developing 15¢ a roll—printing 4¢ per for 120 and 5¢ for 116. Luckily I have seven rolls left of my 23 in Singapore. No use taking too many [pictures], as the boys will probably take as many more. Last heard they were laid up for over two weeks in Madras where Mort was taking some treatments for an infection he got in Agra I guess—we first noticed it there. Probably ring-worm, scurvy, or Impetigo contagiosous, spreading sores probably caused from too much meat. Frank had it first but got rid of it. Both the English and French seem to be great meat eaters. On two hotel menus I have here, of eight courses including soup and dessert, four contain meat, two almost entirely so, and on the second there are three containing meat.

My new obstacle is the egg—I think. Hard to tell in a country where you get so many queer concoctions, but I suspect eggs have knocked me for a row a half dozen times lately.

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