The ex-pat life

Without Stopping by Paul Bowles gives an account of living the ex-pat life in the 1930s that makes me jealous. He seems to be able to hop-scotch around France, Germany, Morocco, and Algiers without describing any way of making money besides being given it from friends' parents -

The problem thus was to get hold of money quickly. This was solved during a visit of Harry's parents to New York, when I had to meet them and explain the situation to them. They did not react at all well to me; I could see that they considered me an objectionable character and one likely to wield a destructive influence over their son.

Apparently, back in the day before the internet or phones, you kept correspondence with people through letters(?) and then these people, no matter how well-known, would invite you into their life -

Soon Gertrude Stein appeared, looking just as she did in her photographs, except that the expression of her face was rather more pleasant. "What is it? Who are you?" she said. I told her and heard for the first time her wonderfully hearty laugh. She opened the door so that I could go in. Then Alice Toklas came downstairs, and we sat in the big studio hung with Picassos. "I was sure from your letters that you were an elderly gentleman, at least seventy-five," Gertrude Stein told me. "A highly eccentric elderly gentleman," added Alice Toklas. "We were certain of it." They asked me to dinner for the following night to meet Bernard Fay.

...

Aaron [Copland] told me I was not working hard enough. This was not surprising, since I wasted so much time moving around Berlin trying to see people. I decided, for instance, that I had to know Naum Gabo, the constructivist sculptor, and spent a whole day in his studio out at Potsdam...Another day I followed up a series of introductions which finally led me to the office of Walter Gropius, the architect, who looked like any businessman sitting at his desk, and who must have been mystified by my desire to talk with him, particularly since I had nothing at all to say...I leaped at the opportunity because Bad Pyrmont was not far from Hanover, and in Hannover lived Kurt Schwitters, whom among all Germans I wanted most to meet...I have no idea of how I worded the wire I sent to Schwitters, but I recall my feeling of triumph when I...read his answering telegram inviting me to Hannover.

And who knew that back in the day even famous directors treated their homes like a college dorm?

Another day Thoma took me around to the rue Vignon to visit Jean Cocteau. A maid let us into an antechamber one of whose walls was a huge blackboard with scrawls and doodles on it. This was where friends left messages when Cocteau was not in.

I'm enjoying the book now as it's turned into a fantasy description of what living in Europe would be like when you're young and rich, although Bowles seems like kind of a prick, but since its pointed out to him quite often I don't mind. As in -

It did not take me long to understand that while I undoubtedly had her personal sympathy, I existed primarily for Gertrude Stein as a sociological exhibit; for her I was the first example of my kind...After a week or so, Gertrude Stein pronounced her verdict: I was the most spoiled, insensitive, and self-indulgent young man she had ever seen, and my colossal complacency in rejecting all values appalled her. But she said it beaming with pleasure, so that I did not take it as adverse criticism. "If you were typical, it would be the end of our civilization," she told me. "You're a manufactured savage."