Free The Ugly American by Eugene Burdick, William J. Lederer Page B

was drab, and she knew it. Her life was drab, and she knew it. What she needed was a husband, and she knew that too. The one hope she had for a change in her routine life was her application for overseas duty.
    Although Marie had interesting bosses and a responsible job, life was dull. She left her apartment at six-thirty in the morning so that she could get a seat on the bus, and also so that she could eat breakfast in the government cafeteria. Usually she stayed in her office until almost five-thirty, and would then have dinner in the government cafeteria. This routine meant she avoided the crowded buses; and it was much cheaper and easier than eating in the crowded apartment.
    Marie's nights were almost all the same. After doing her share of the apartment cleaning and her own laundry, she sat in front of the TV set with her three roommates.
    Then Marie received a letter of acceptance to her application for overseas duty. She was to go to Sarkhan. Three months later she landed at Haidho airfield.
    A month later she wrote her ex-roommates a letter:
     
    Dear Mary, Joan, and Louise, The trip to Haidho was wonderful. I flew first class all the way —the real deluxe treatment—all paid for. It was great. (Remember the time we flew tourist class to Chicago and packed our lunches in our handbags, and how we had to stand in line?)
    Well, naturally I was scared when I stepped off the plane at Haidho (the capitol of Sarkhan). Everything was new and I didn't know what to expect. Well, girls, there was a chauffeur-driven car waiting for me at the airport along with a reception committee. I didn't have to go through customs or anything. When I asked about my luggage, Mister Preston (the man who came to meet me) said never mind, Tonki will look after it Tonki is a Sarkhanese who works for the embassy here.
    Two of the girls who met me are also secretaries and they said that I should live with them if I wanted to; and I'm staying with them now.
    You should see our house (picture enclosed). We each have our own bedroom—and there's an extra for guests. There's a dining room, a living room, and maid's quarters.
    And there are built-in servants! Honest. We have three servants to look after us. It's a family of them, father, mother, and a fourteen year old girl. They do the cooking, cleaning, laundry— everything. Oh how they baby us! When they wake me in the morning, they bring a glass of orange juice and a cup of tea. This is real living.
    The Americans here are very friendly. They all give parties and plenty of them; there's at least one cocktail party or dinner every night. It's easy to do, of course, because everyone has help. All I have to do is check with my housemates to see if it's okay, and then call the servant. "Ehibun," I say, "we're having ten for dinner next Tuesday. Can you handle it?"
    "Yes, mum," she says, and that's all there is to it. And what a dinner for ten it turns out to be! Just like in the movies.
    Liquor over here in the government liquor store is dirt cheap. There's no tax on it—so Johnny Walker Black Label, Old Grand Dad, and Beefeater Gin are all less than two dollars a bottle. And we also have a Commissary and PX.
    And speaking of things being cheap, I'm buying a new Hillman. I can get it for much less than the U. S. price. It's duty free, and there's some special arrangement so the government brings it over for me from England for nothing.
    There are only about a thousand Americans here, and we stick together. That means that we girls get asked to everything. I've been to the ambassador's parties several times; and to lots of dinners at the MAAG (Military Assistance and Advisory Group) and the USIS and the ECA (Economic Mission).
    Well, it's time to go to the office—I see my car is waiting in front. We're driven to work and back in a government car pool I have to get to the office early today so I can take a long lunch hour, because I have an appointment with my dressmaker.
    The best thing about being