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

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.