The Waterbury Democrat., 1941-03-21

Europe by standards of civilization, Its yellow stucco buildings loom up suddenly out of the forest swamps. On the pier is strange crowd, na- tives with coal black skin dressed in flowing white robes, brightly col- ored breech- -clouths. Some wear half European dress--pants, an old shirt with the tail flowing out be- hind, even long white costume that resembles an fashioned night shirt.
 The governor of Portuguese West from Lisbon, is first ashore. A sa- lute of 2l guns fired by red-hatted native soldiers greets him as he steps ashore from the launch. The crowd cheers. Bugles blare brassily on the still, hot morning air. Along the water front, under two great trees arching over the dusty street, a little band of soldiers in khaki shorts and red fez are lined up with rifles at present arms. They and their Portuguese officers have the only guns in the colony, except for muzzle loaders homemade of gas pipe and a carved wooden stock by outlaw natives.
 As soon as the governor has re- viewed his troops, 200 natives gath CT at mid-morning in the street to dance. To the beat of drums and a strange fiddle-uke instrument they take turns in solo performance es that range from bare-footed stomp dancing to jelly-like wrig- gllng. It is noon now and the sun beats down like fire on the street before the celebration breaks up.
 Meet for Breakfast
 Passengers from the clipper meet meanwhile for breakfast in one of the tile and plaster buildings. Bare- footed natives in neat white coats and dark trousers serve breakfast of cornflakes, bacon and eggs, toast and coffee. Passengers shed coatg ~ad neckties as the midday heat in- creases. A cabinet minister with diplomatic bag safely parked under his chair inops precipitation and loosenS his necktie. Opposite him sits 6 represent ative of the pres ident of the United States, his col- lar willing like wet paper. A veal thy New York woman fans herself at the end Of the table and sips lime juice. A woman refugee from France dishes up bacon and eggs with q slender hand on which sparkles Q giant diamond.
 In the big game country only @ few miles away, clipper crews which are laid over in Bolama are out shooting leopards, gazelle, water buffalo or even elephant and hip- popotamus.
 A pair of leopard skins are dry ing on the porch of the Pan-Amer- ican office.
 The clipper leaves Africa in late afternoon and at dawn 1t is across the equator, circling in semi-dark- ness over the mouth of the Amazon river, at the important Brazilian port of Belem or Para. It is a jump of almost 2,0O0 miles across the South Atlantic but the prevailing winds are 10 the west and the clip- per in certain months now follows the roundabout southern route from Lisbon to New York. rather than buck the storms of the North Atlantic where the winds blow to- ward Europe.
 One Month of Amazon
 Belem Is on the river Para, which Is one of two mouths of the Amazon and the main channel into that great river. A launch takes passeng- CTS from our plane to a boat an- chored in mid-stream. There below the equator on the second day we have breakfast while the airplane is refueled. Then we are away again on a 1000-mile flight to the British censorship control at port of Spain on the West Indies Island of Trini- dad.
 The last leg of the air journey to New York is nonstop from Trini- dad. Heavy cloud banks can be seen ahead as dinner Is served and by the time we are settling down for our third straight night of sleeping in chairs or on the floor, the big ship Is pumping into rough spring wealth. CT over the North Atlantic.
 At a. m. most of us are wide awake and fighting the fall and pitch of what the navigator calls lair turbulence" The clipper joltS as if 1t had struck a heavy obstacle; then 1t sweeps upward for few sec- onds at 2,000 feet minute; then 1t drops swiftly and your stomach seems to rise to where your heart should be.
 Almost everybody is air sick. The usual chatter in the smoking room changes to unbroken silence. Off Cape Hatteras, fighting a 40-mile- an-hour head wind, the bumps be- come still more frequent. The skip- per heads the big ship upward, seeking calmer air. Above the clouds the wind increases to 30 miles an hour and he skids back down. Four members of the crew are i'll after five hours of steady pumping.
 Stretched out on long seat is a dark -haired little Czech woman who has spent almost the entire trip in misery because even the slightest motion of the ship made her Ill. The last seven hours until the shores of Long Island emerge through the haze are agony. Her face is drawn and white. Her first look at Amer ica-where her sons are waiting for her--is like a nightmare.
 At La0uardia airport 1t Is bitterly cold. Snow drives across the land- Ing platform. But inside the cus- toms house 1t is warm and the diff ficuities Of wartime travel fade quickly.
 Suddenly there seems to be a new face in the crowd of passengers. You