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"The Luck of Thirteen Wanderings and Flight through Montenegro and Serbia"

We sympathetically wished him good
luck and walked past into the Turkish quarter, adopted by two dogs which
followed us all the way. We had a hurried glimpse of queer-shaped,
many-coloured houses, trousered women, and a general Turkishness.
We returned to find our American friend furious, full of the superior
methods of luggage registration in the States.
We had beer with him at the frontier, delicious cool stuff with a
mollifying influence. He told us he held the record for one month's
hernia operations in Serbia. We were later to meet his rival, a Canadian
doctor, in Montenegro.
Locked in the train, we awaited the medical examination, and sat
feeling self-consciously healthy. At last the Greek doctor opened the
door, glanced at a knapsack, and vanished. We were certified healthy.
It was a beautiful dark blue night when we arrived at Salonika. Crowds
of people were dining at little tables which filled the streets off the
quay, in spite of the awful smells which came up from the harbour.


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