Lowdermilk’s niece’s diary entry. Algeria: January 20-23, 1939

“Elizabeth Moody, age nineteen and very beautiful, accompanied her Uncle, Dr. Walter C. Lowdermilk and family on an official trip for the United States government, using their personal car and paying their own expenses, to study old Roman lands for the benefit of the US soil conservation service, and American farmers to find out what could be [learned] of the agricultural successes and failures of the past.” – Forward to Lowdermilk’s niece’s diary

I believe the Lowdermilk party is in Algeria in these entries. – NB

January 20, Saturday—Packing in earnest and after lunch gathering observations together and getting off to the beach house for the weekend. It was cloudy overhead, but that didn’t bother us. When we arrived the native Spanish woman nearby have the house warm in the beds made and everything was most cheerful. Had a good hot supper and then bed.

January 22—Sunday—A real breakfast, bacon, eggs, toast, fruit and coffee, (no “petit de jeuner.”) The native woman came in and cleaned up and Wester and I took a long walk down the sandy beach. It had been very windy and stormy the night before—several birds and a dead goat had been washed ashore. The calm Mediterranean of several days before was foaming, frothing and pounding against the shore. We went wading in the water was surprisingly warm. Then we went wandering in a pine woods where interlaced branches above formed a green canopy, dense and brown with many pinecones. It was lovely with the wind in the trees and the surging beat of the waves on the shore. Back at the Villa Mr. Abry had arrived after wandering for more than an hour and a half trying to find us and soon dinner was ready. The woman came again after lunch and cleaned up. Her husband was very sick and they didn’t have any money and she was most anxious to earn and we were a good source. All of us went for a run down and back the beach and wading again. I had rolled up my slacks and was wandering around having a good time. When I started to come in I suddenly went down and then up on some hidden rocks and then down again in a most ungraceful and uncomfortable position. However, I didn’t fall in! But I got an awful bruise on one of my toes. We also took out the boat, Mr. Abry rowed, Billy sat behind him and I sat in the prow. We couldn’t get beyond the waves they were so strong, but we had a wonderful time. Once we didn’t strike a wave right and the water just poured into the boat and soaked my sweater and slacks and pajamas I was wearing underneath. We drifted several houses below the boathouse, and so had a dreadful time getting the boat beached, and back to the boathouse. Had to drag and pull it along the short just in the water. Billy fell in. Mac and Wester were the only dry ones and since it was sunset we all went in and changed. The dog, playing, pushed my slacks leg in the fire and burned a hole inside the cuff before they could be rescued. How to pick up dinner and took Mr. Apri partway into his boss where he returned to Algeria and took a train back to Tunis. While at the Villa I read “The Garden of Allah” in spare moments, a most peculiar book.

January 23, Monday—the native woman got breakfast as we packed. Uncle gave her Fr.100 and the poor woman burst out crying and kissed his hand. They had really been in desperate straits. Back to Algiers to say goodbye to Miss Van dine and thank her for the use of the Villa, get some things and start on our way into La Grande Kaebylie. We had a fruit lunch in the car as we went along. Drove through the rocky gorges of the Ysser which is a very muddy river, and into the mountains of La Grande Kaebylie. Fruit trees were in blossom, field screen, dainty green leaves beginning to burst forth on old dead appearing trees. In the little villages the Berbers wrapped in their hooded white burnooses were seated upon mats in the sun were playing a form of dominoes or dice. Once in a while we would come on an old gnarled olive tree, roots exposed and barren rocky soil beneath. Perhaps they date back to the time of the Romans. Flocks of sheep, dirty and with peers like cocker spaniels graze on seemingly nothing. What cultivation there was was on the steep hills, no terraces and mainly up-and-down. Consequently erosion cultures were ruining the hills and washing away the soil. Many fig orchards. Both the ruined land and hills, and tiny mud and thatch hovels in which these poor people live, presented a dreary and depressing sight. About dusk we entered large cork forests. A terrifically strong gale accompanied us now. At 3000 feet elevation in the midst of forest and wind, we were grateful to find hotel Lambert and rooms for the night. (And we thought we would have to go on to Bougie and that was still about 50 km) had a good meal and sleep.

January 19, 1938, Enter Mecktube

January 19, Thursday—Wrote. Mdm. and monsieur Aubere had lunch with us and we afterward down town and shopped. Aunt Inez bought a zircon ring that looks like a huge diamond. Mac bought a beauty of a real diamond for some girl in the future and Wester, Billy and I acquired a puppy. A ragged Arab was holding a tiny little puppy which was shivering and trembling and we were so taken with a little thing that we bought him for Fr.30 ($.90). I don’t think he is more than a week old but he knows how to lap up milk. We have called him Mecktube which is “it is written” in Arabian, and it certainly fits this little baby. He is adorable. Even Uncle Walter succumbed to his charms. We got a bottle and a nipple and so far Billy M Wester have helped write well in looking after him. Dinner was quite hilarious for Aunt Inez flaunted her new brilliant ring under Uncle’s eye and quite caused a scene of surprise. Uncle knew Aunt Inez had been looking at diamonds and pricing them, so he was quite floored with what he saw. However, a zircon, while a real stone, had no words at all compared with the diamond. After dinner I read for quite some time and gave Mecktube some “doodies” when I came up. Wester and I had him in our room and we were up several times in the night—I hope it doesn’t keep up too long.

Lowdermilk’s niece’s diary entry: Algeria January 18, 1939

January 18, 1939

January 18, Wednesday—at last up in my diary.Mr. Albury arrived this afternoon. Lunch and still no sign of Uncle. Those of us left put on our “glad rags”, took a taxi to the orphanage and met the Algerian missionaries and Bishop Wade, (just off the Empressof Britain for the day.) They Bishop is large around the middle and quite genial. Of course for little babies sang a couple of songs and they are always adorable.

We had a tea engagement at the home of the vice consul at 5:30 and he was to stop at the hotel and pick us up at 5:15. We figured that leaving the orphanage at 4:30 would give us plenty of time to get back to the hotel, and it would have if we hadn’t hopped into the first bus saying “Algiers” on it. However, Mack said “Hotel Bellevue?” And the man replied, “we, we, we, we.” I was keeping out of the conversation for it had been against my better judgment to get on the bus in the first place. However, from all reports we were going to Hotel Bellevue. By this time it was almost 5 and we were way out in the country passing fields of daisies. All of us were quite aware of the fact that this was the wrong bus, but by now the end of the line had been reached, and all of us hopped out to find we were in the little one-force village off Bou Saaria. Nothing was open except for the small Hotel Bellevue and its saloon (imagine coming to this hotel way out in the sticks.) Aunt Inez immediately rushed in and began talking English to all that bewildered curious natives, and Mac finally got a message to the vice-Consul, Mr. Crane, that we were stranded and would be late. There were no taxis to be had. The nearest place was El Biar, about five miles back, but the 5 miles might just have well been 25 as far as we were concerned. One Arab in the saloon saw we were having a pretty awful time of it and asked in broken English, “What is it you want?” Aunt Inez immediately poured forth our predicament and wondered if there wasn’t someone with a car that we could pay and so get back to El Biar. The man didn’t know of anyone. Then Aunt Inez pointed to an old ramshackle delivery truck across the street and wanted to know who’s car that was. The man replied that it was his and Aunt Inez practically embraced him. So we all rode back to El Biar in a delivery truck. Anti-Narrows Road up in front with a driver who spoke only French (and the owner couldn’t go with us) and both carried on a steady stream of conversation, from what Mac, Wester and I could hear from the rear. (Aunt Inez speaks no French). Here I was in my good black dress, shoes, hat with veil, best sheer stockings and fur coat curled up on the floor of a bumpy, rattling, noisy, uncomfortable truck with the wind whipping around (and it had rained during the afternoon.) Well, we reached El Biar, paid the man, hopped in a taxi and were soon back at the Hotel Bellevue and then at Mr. Crane’s lovely apartment on the seventh floor of one of the new modernistic buildings, furnished with Persian rugs and antiques (both he and she lived in Persia many years) and sipping tea. Mr. Crane has certainly good-looking, but I am afraid that is all I can say for him. Uncle still hadn’t arrived when we reached the hotel at 7:25, but, having been delayed by a sandstorm and much rain, he appeared at about 7:45 and all of us had a hilarious dinner together. Mr. and Mrs. Aubere arrived as we were finishing the meat course and we had a nice visit together. We had met them and had them at our hotel for lunch in Paris. They’re coming to lunch with us tomorrow. After they left at about 10:30, Mac, Mr. Abry, Aunt Inez, Uncle and I went for a walk.

Lowdermilk’s niece’s diary entry: Algeria January 7, 1939

And on—days or in a muddle now. Sunday morning, Wester, Billy, Mr. Abry and I went for a long walk down the quay and into the Arab quarter—horribly dirty and smelly, and climbed endless dirty stone steps to the kasbah, which is the highest land in the native city, and was it high! It turned out to be an old fort. The climb up was one reeking with local color, dirty ragged children, and gave a chance for me to peek into the black dismal hovels in which only a tiny fire furnished light or heat to the miserably poor inhabitants. A very great contrast to the beautiful clean modern civic and apartment buildings which rise throughout Algiers and command a picturesque view of the bay below. Of course there was school for Billy and Wester and writing which I did off and on. Wrote a poem for mother’s birthday and on a couple of evenings took walks with Mr. Abry down by the harbor, further up the hill to see the gleaming lights of the city below, and down to the city itself. Uncle had the authority on Mediterranean soils at the hotel for dinner one night—a M. del Villars. Didn’t get much done except some letters. Uncle, Billy and Mr. Abry off for several days inland. (Morocco) off at noon and Aunt Inez, Wester, and I often visit Miss Van Dyne, after we had taken the fox furs to be mounted. Her assistant Miss Whiteley was there and after visiting some moments we went downtown to meet Miss Van Dyne coming out of the post office. All of us shopped around for a while and I got a perfect white-hooded cap of hand woven wool with turquoise and blue silk embroidery on it—also some of the plain light wool yardage. The next noon we had lunch at the student foyer of which Miss Van Dyne is in charge. The girls are all French from different parts of Algeria and are attending the University. After lunch we went down to the docks and watch the ship carrying about 1000 Mohammedans leave for the yearly pilgrimage. It was quite interesting—all the natives out and quite expressionless. They believe that to reach heaven you must say your prayers everyday at 5 different times facing the West; obey the fast (you fast all day and that sun-down start eating and eat all night and then stop); say that there is but one God Allah, his prophet Mohammed; go to Mecca, and there is one more point which I don’t know.

Sunday morning we went to church but were so late we only got in on the sermon and the last hymn. In the afternoon we all went up to Miss Wolfe’s orphanage for tea and dinner. The little children were adorable. The youngest was 2 1/2, smart as a whip and as cute as a trick. She looked like a Dionne Quint. The children just love to run to mama (Miss Wolfe) for kisses and hugs and Auntie and I came in on that score later, too. At bedtime we went into their dormitory, heard them say their prayers (the Lord’s prayer in French) and kissed them good night. These children originally came from poverty-stricken homes, and under the excellent care in the orphanage, have developed a spontaneous happiness. Another afternoon we were driven out to the Mission Beach Villa, right on the sand, with a forest down one way and rocks up the other. It was a lovely afternoon on the porch with fruit for the tea. These missionaries have done everything to make our stay a happy one. We have been loaned tennis rackets and books, they have gone shopping with us, and taken us out, and given us a lovely time.

Wrote all day yesterday in my diary, except for some shopping in the late afternoon. Got some lipstick and embroidered Arabian slippers—white leather with silver.

Lowdermilk’s niece’s diary entry: Tunisia January 6, 1939

Elizabeth Moody, age nineteen and very beautiful, accompanied her Uncle, Dr. Walter C. Lowdermilk and family on an official trip for the United States government, using their personal car and paying their own expenses, to study old Roman lands for the benefit of the US soil conservation service, and American farmers to find out what could [learned] be of the agricultural successes and failures of the past.

Tunisia January 6, 1939

Located a good hotel up in the hills with a gorgeous view of the harbor and coast, (a tropical garden, a tennis court,) to which we moved at lunchtime. In the morning I had written the hotel at Posada, about my ring which I had lost at Posada, and I am hoping for the best. The Hotel Bellevue to which we transferred, was an old Moorish palace and is beautifully furnished with old rugs and hangings. The floors over here are always tile and cold. The owners, through a series of luck, accumulated a good fortune, but they are very common people. She yells at the least thing like a charwoman. The servants get no pay except for the 10% tips, and if she finds out they’ve been tipped extra she doesn’t give them their full share of their meager 10% tips. They are as stingy and miserly as two people can be. It makes me quite indignant for the lovely people here who have to suffer such injustices, especially the one-armed man at the desk. He was a son of the vice consul in New York and speaks excellent English. However he is smart and is getting out. In the afternoon Mr. Abry and I hiked up on a hill and part just behind the hotel and watched the battleship carrying Daladier leave the harbor amid the shrill siren whistles. Wrote the rest of the day.

Lowdermilk’s niece’s diary entry: Tunisia January 5, 1939

January 5, 1939

Before leaving Biskra, we all wandered around that date market which was now in full swing. Natives jostled each other in the crowded street. Everyone was trying to sell us something and I don’t know how many little knives and daggers we bought from one little man.

Caravans of camels with huge wool slacks of dates were being unloaded and in one caravan a tiny baby camel was being pushed along. He was the most adorable soft fuzzy gray long-legged creature I ever saw and all of us followed him out of town and had our pictures taken with him (after we had paid the Arab) and watched him get “goodies” from his mama. I don’t know of any funnier looking animal than camel. I laugh every time I see one.

They have the silliest expressions. With their noses in the air they condescend to heartily looked down on you from under the longest eyelashes imaginable. They nonchalantly chew their cud with a chew on one side and then a chew on the other side, and it’s a big swing from side to side. The way the natives load the poor beasts down is a crime and a shame. It takes two men a hard struggle to put one bag of dates on a camel, but the poor camel has to carry two. Later on we heard a camel noisily refusing to budge or carry his load. He just lay down by the road. The natives took the bags off and then put them back on and the camel had to go on.

Out by some sand dunes we had great sport riding camels. I was never aware of the fact that camels are so noisy. The poor beast that was made to kneel in order for me to hop on was most thorough in grumbling and showing his disapproval of carrying my deadweight around. It was finally persuaded to let me sit on a most comfortable cushion-like saddle and the camels started to rise. His posterior gets up first, and I was tipped in such a position I thought surely I would fall on the poor animal’s neck. However, I managed to stick on and we were away. The camels walk swings his hump which swings the rider round and round and up and down all at the same time, and while many people get camel sick from the motion, our ride was short and so hilarious that we felt no qualms. Mr. Abry got smart and told the man to make the camels run, and we bounced around in a terrific rate, but it was loads of fun. Our dinner was of nothing but describe dates, which are heavenly fruits of sweetness and stickiness. After the first 50 I was a little tired of them. All afternoon in the desolate desert region from Biskra to Bou Saada, we passed hundreds of camels in caravans and each camel had the same silly haughty expression for us. We had tea in Bou Saada with an Arab gentleman who spoke English, and on leaving were accosted by several shepherds with fox pelts. Since they were inexpensive, Aunt Inez snapped them up. After shaking hands with much of the native population, we were off for Algiers. It was soon dark and we drove and drove up and down around the Atlas Mountains and at last about 11 PM after no dinner we arrived at Algiers. Algiers was expecting Daladier the next morning and several hotels which we tried could not accommodate us. We finally secured rooms on the seventh floor of an inexpensive hotel and all of us piled into bed without a thought of dinner.

Lowdermilk’s niece diary entry: Tunisia

January 4, 1939

taking a detour out to Timgad, an old Roman city in some ways more interesting than Pompeii, we were much amazed at the grandeur displayed there. Trajan’s arch and two tall columns from the capital dominated the landscape. It had been built in 200 A.D., and was a Christian city destroyed by Arabs and then buried by erosion and forgotten 1300 years. We visited one baptismal font of exquisite mosaic work. The blocks of stone covering the street had been laid in diagonal patterns to ease the carriages and carts from successive bumps. The theater was in excellent condition. Uncle wandered off into the hills and Wester and I poked around here and there—visited temples, bakeries, wells and some ice—so while the sun shone it was cold. Ate some apples and dates and waited for Uncle Walter. When at last he arrived we all piled in the car and started on. Drove through more desolate country, mountainous and barren. There was an oasis at the gateway to the desert and a native volunteered his services to take us through the village and back to the road. It was a very tiny village of red clay homes with dark green palms as a background. The man held on to the outside of the car and after the village we soon found ourselves on a bumpy dirty road. We could see the highway in the distance and so dismissed our guide. Much to our disgust we had none of the right change, either too small or too much. Native didn’t like the small change we gave him and declared he was going to ride on going to Biskra, so we gave him too much and he was “flabbergasted.”

We reached Biskra just at twilight and after leaving our bags at a hotel we drove around the city until time for dinner. Just outside the city we watched the full moon rise over the palms—not a bad sight. After dinner Mr. Abry and I went walking to the ruins of an old Turkish fort some distance outside the city. It was a perfectly glorious night! The moon was so bright we could easily read a newspaper. Everything was bathed in moonglow—the white buildings were dazzling in the silvery light. You have just never seen moonlight until you have seen it on the Sahara. However with Mr. Abry I might as well have been alone, which was probably just as well.

Mr. Abry while investigating some palms stuck his foot in some mud, but I avoided it, thank goodness. We wandered around the market square. There were huge sacks piled up around and being of curious nature we investigated. One sack contained hard dried dates, but the other sack was an Arab which we disturbed from slumber. We got out of there in a hurry.

Lowdermilk’s niece diary entry: Tunisia

January 3, 1939

Headed south for the desert with Batna our destination for the night. All morning it drizzled and rained. Our arrival in North Africa was just after the first rain in three years in some places and it was still rainy, cold, changeable weather. The little tiny houses these poor Arabs live in are terrible. There are hardly any trees and the land is rocky and desolate. They paste fertilizer on their homes to dry and later to be used for fuel. Haystacks are covered with mud. All of a sudden, it seemed, we arrived near Constantine which loomed up before us. A huge gorge divided the modern up-to-date appearing city, though it was very old and interesting. We had a late lunch of couscous, fruit and Algerian tea (very good), under much local color. Reached Batna at dusk.

Lowdermilk’s niece diary entry: Tunisia

January 2, 1939

Behind in my diary. How obnoxious. We didn’t leave Tunis until after lunch and while the sun shone, still it was plenty cold. We drove besides straight flat green wheat fields, between distant blue mountains on either side. Here and there across the landscape and more desolate desert regions Bedouin wigwam-like tents dotted the landscape. They were mud or thatched homes. Such pitiful poverty as these poor people live in. The sheep which were grazing on what appeared to be nothing but stone, have wide flat tails to store up fat. Great abundance of prickly pear around some houses as a protection. In one little village a soldier on a bicycle not watching where he was going just missed heaven by nearly colliding with us. Uncle jammed on the brakes but even so the man wrecked the front wheel of his bike. It was decidedly his fault and he, though badly scared realized it. Uncle paid him about 20 Francs however, and the crowd which had gathered was very friendly in waving us a goodbye. Out in the country again we were thrilled by the gorgeous sunset. The clear blue sky, with lazy hazy, white clouds had changed to soft pink and blue-gray clouds and dazzling fiery orange into gray with a light blue sky above. The light blue velvet of the mountains darkened and soon it was night, which we spent at home where Wester and I had dinner in bed.

Lowdermilk’s niece diary entry: Tunis, Tunisia

January 1, 1939

Mac, Mr. Abry (a young Frenchman sent by France to show Walter the French projects of Tunisia) and myself were up early for breakfast and then off to see the native quarter. The shops or souks as the Arabs call them, were fascinating. Entirely covered overhead we walked down narrow cobblestone streets with bright attractive shops on either side and were invited into each shop by the owner who sat outside and shouted to the passerby trying to entice someone inside. Mac went back early but Mr. Abry and myself went on wandering around. We had picked up an Arab guide who spoke French and English and he was really showing us the town. We came out of the Casbah upon a swarming crowd of Arabs.

The Arab prince had died the day before and the bey (native ruler who works with France) and the French governor were going to pass by with the casket on their way to the palace. It was a very quiet crowd. Soon the chanting, weird wailing of the mourners could be heard and after they had passed the bey and governor walked by. The bey was natively dressed—had a beard was a very kind looking old gentleman. The governor was in mourning clothes behind him the casket was carried by several natives on either side with the prince’s dress clothes laid out on top.

Our guide took us through the better souks and I smelled some oriental perfume which was not bad. We then arrived back in town.

The Kelly’s took us out to Carthage for lunch and to see the ruins of what remained of a great city. I had developed a sore throat and so curled up on the porch of the restaurant and while the rest ate I baked in the sun and had a wonderful view of blue sparkling sea below, blue, blue sky above, palm trees and white, white homes along the coast. It was lovely.

The ruins of the city are spread out over quite an area in an old temple was the first stop. Nothing remained but a few marble pillars and a wonderful view of the sea. The old amphitheater and Greek theater were in equal ruins. The Romans certainly hated Hannibal and feared his city and laid waste to it they conquered. Many pieces of marble and statuary were taken as far north as Genoa and Pisa. Back to the hotel for a hot water bottle in bed for me and dinner for the rest.