Monday, December 24, 1928

‘Twas the night before Xmas, and all thru the hotel, not a creature was stirring, only little Hally who was hanging his socks up—but not for Santa. Tonight is the big clean-up night. Got the 6 o’clock bus in plenty of time this morning. The first two hours were cold ones. About 9/10 of the road was n.g., but the bus tore right along, doing about 200 miles in 6¼ hours. At first the country was a broad, rolling prairie, partly cultivated and much used for sheep and cattle grazing. As we got farther south, it became very hilly, almost mountainous, and the rocks, close to the surface, cropped out in many places, making the country look rather rugged and desolate on the whole. This region is but thinly settled. In Algeciras there was a wait of an hour for the boat. It is right across the bay from Gibraltar and you can get an excellent view of the big rock. To your right as you cross the bay looms a mountainous coast, Spanish Morocco. Landing, the herd of hotel agents descended. I had to take pension rates to get a hotel—$2.25 a day. It’s a good hotel, though, and as cheap as I can get here, so Cook’s says. We’ll call it an Xmas treat. They don’t miss feeding you. About 6 courses of everything under the sub. But they’ll sure lose money feeding me.

Gibraltar isn’t a bad city and is certainly a lively one. The sailors and soldiers seem to be having the biggest time. Dancing with each other in the cafés, half tipsy, all singing and yelling. I can hear them singing and raising the roof of some joint right now.

I am headed for a big Xmas tomorrow. Got 7 letters and three packages and two newspapers today and have (using lots of will-power) saved all but one newspaper for tomorrow. Signing off at 11:45PM.

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