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Eve Drewelowe's journals, volumes II-III, 1950s
Page 092
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and was thus transported to Cairo. The only water obtainable that was safe for drinking purposes, was bottled mineral water, It wasn't too agreeable and I never cared much for it. So intermittently I was fed orange juice from those good Haifa oranges - the king I think of the orange world. The hot day and the discomfort eventually passed into the yesterdays and were no more. Very shortly after the Luxor episode we sailed from Alexandria to Pireaus, across the supposedly blue Mediterranean which we know from our experiences can be as smooth as glass. On this occasion, however, we encountered every bad storm all the way. Hither-to-fore I had always have a good sailor and a rough sea was inclined to [excoherate?] my spirits even more than usual. But on this crossing I was ill with everyone else -- the only time I have broken my sailing record and missed a meal for sea-sickness in my many many days on the high seas. Perhaps a hang-over from Luxor. I am not too sure that some of the Egyptian indigestion didn't hold over and cause the temporary and unusual indisposition. We were soon in Greece, however, for a glorious three weeks. The hotels of Athens customarily served breakfast on a tray in our room every morning. The standard breakfast consisted of long crispy French rolls, butter, lots of cocoa and some famous [Hymetian?] honey. Soon after breakfast morning following morning I always came up with a disturbingly violent stomach-ache. It was long in subsiding and made me feel wretchedly for hours. Finally I could endure it no longer. Something
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and was thus transported to Cairo. The only water obtainable that was safe for drinking purposes, was bottled mineral water, It wasn't too agreeable and I never cared much for it. So intermittently I was fed orange juice from those good Haifa oranges - the king I think of the orange world. The hot day and the discomfort eventually passed into the yesterdays and were no more. Very shortly after the Luxor episode we sailed from Alexandria to Pireaus, across the supposedly blue Mediterranean which we know from our experiences can be as smooth as glass. On this occasion, however, we encountered every bad storm all the way. Hither-to-fore I had always have a good sailor and a rough sea was inclined to [excoherate?] my spirits even more than usual. But on this crossing I was ill with everyone else -- the only time I have broken my sailing record and missed a meal for sea-sickness in my many many days on the high seas. Perhaps a hang-over from Luxor. I am not too sure that some of the Egyptian indigestion didn't hold over and cause the temporary and unusual indisposition. We were soon in Greece, however, for a glorious three weeks. The hotels of Athens customarily served breakfast on a tray in our room every morning. The standard breakfast consisted of long crispy French rolls, butter, lots of cocoa and some famous [Hymetian?] honey. Soon after breakfast morning following morning I always came up with a disturbingly violent stomach-ache. It was long in subsiding and made me feel wretchedly for hours. Finally I could endure it no longer. Something
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