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VENICE, 20 AUGUST 1933 Here as a joy-hog: a pleasant change after that pension on the Giudecca two years ago.
We went to the Lido this morning, and the Doge's Palace looked more beautiful from a speedboat than it ever did from a gondola. VENICE, 21 AUGUST After inspecting two palaces, the Labiena, containing Tiepolo's fresco of Cleopatra's Banquet, and the Pappadopoli, a stifling labyrinth of plush and royal photographs, we took sanctuary from culture in Harry's Bar.
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The sun sank, Greece became a ragged silhouette, and the southernmost lighthouse of Europe began to wink.
A northerly wind flecks the sapphire sea with white, and has silenced those exuberant Jews below. The familiar shores looked arid and unpeopled, but invincibly beautiful through the rosy air.
At the south-west corner of Greece we turned east, passed Kalamata in its bay, and came to Cape Matapan, which I last saw from Taygetus outlined by the distant sea as though on a map.
The old visitors' book with Lenin's name in it had been removed.
At the Lido there was a breeze; the sea was rough, cool, and free from refuse.