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.