FROM THE FRONT

Grey River Argus, 1 March 1945, Page 6

FROM THE FRONT

A greymouth boy writes Sio-nalman Rya Roberts, writing to „ friend in Greymouth, pens the following chatty letter which all his friends will be pleased to read: 1 “L have seen quite a bn of the old elobe since I saw you last. Was luckv enough to get up as far as Tunisia and found the country up that way as pretty as any that I have vet seen, especially the fields of wild flowers which is really something that I will never forget. “My next trip was a brief tour of Palestine and the Holy Land, where 1 visited all the places that I have read so much about in Bible History at school. All the original caves and grottoes are still there, and over them have been built beautiful churches and cathedrals which really have to be seen to be appreciated. I also saw where the ‘Way of • the Cross’ took place, but the original cobble-stoned road is only visible in ore place. One place of interest to New Zealanders in Palestine is the War Cemetery from the last war the Memorial Hail of which was decorated and designed and pa ; d for by the people of New Zealand. It is equal to anything that I have yet seen. The modern Jewish city of Tel-Aviv appealed to me very much, with all of its new ultra-modern buildings, roadside cafes, tree-lined promenades. There all spend their spare time at the beaches, which are absolutely packed front early morning until late in the evening. I think the Jewish children are the healthiest looking that I have ever seen, so I guess there must be something in this fresh air business. “Here in Italy, the countryside is very much like New Zealand, but the manner and customs of the country are vastly different. Every little village in the south of Italy is built on the lop of a hill. This, I believe, was a protective measure in the olden days. In the villages themselves, there are no roads as we know them, just cobble-stoned steps taking their place, and to walk through these villages gives you enough exercise to last a month! In the south, water is all carried from a well. Why they haven’t bothered to pipe it to the houses I can’t, imagine. All the work seems to be done by the women. Believe you me, southern Italy is truly a man’s paradise! You see the old chap and his wife go out to gather firewood. All the old boy does is to load .it on to the woman’s head, and then he walks home with her—but never carries a stick himself. Another thing that amused me very much was the carrying of water to the animals, which are kept in lower rooms of houses that the “Ites” occupy. Well, the women carry all the water on their heads in big buckets for these animals, which never leave the stable all the winter. Just why someone hasn’t wakened up to the idea of taking the animals to the water I can’t imagine!

“I guess good old New Zealand has it on the best of them, and we are all looking forward to the day we set foot there again. Cheerio for Ihe present—all the very best for the New Year. Your sincere friend Rya.”