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Around the World on a Bicycle V1

T >> Thomas Stevens >> Around the World on a Bicycle V1




While discussing these acceptable viands, I am somewhat startled at
hearing one of the worst "cuss-words " in the English language repeated
several times by one of the two Turks engaged in the self-imposed duty
of keeping people out of the place while I am eating - a kindly piece of
courtesy that wins for them my warmest esteem. The old fellow proves to
be a Crimean veteran, and, besides a much-prized medal he brought back
with him, he somehow managed to acquire this discreditable, perhaps, but
nevertheless unmistakable, memento of having at some time or other
campaigned it with "Tommy Atkins." I try to engage him in conversation,
but find that he doesn't know another solitary word of English. He simply
repeats the profane expression alluded to in a parrot-like manner without
knowing anything of its meaning; has, in fact, forgotten whether it is
English, French, or Italian. He only knows it as a "Frank" expression,
and in that he is perfectly right: it is a frank expression, a very frank
expression indeed. As if determined to do something agreeable in return
for the gratifying interest I seem to be taking in him on account of
this profanity, he now disappears, and shortly returns with a young man,
who turns out to be a Greek, and the only representative of Christendom
in Torbali. The old Turk introduces him as a "Ka-ris-ti-ahn " (Christian)
and then, in reply to questioners, explains to the interested on-lookers
that, although an Englishman, and, unlike the Greeks, friendly to the
Turks, I also am a " Ka-ris-ti-ahn; " one of those queer specimens of
humanity whose perverse nature prevents them from embracing the religion
of the Prophet, and thereby gaining an entrance into the promised land
of the kara ghuz kiz (black-eyed houris). During this profound exposition
of my merits and demerits, the wondering people stare at me with an
expression on their faces that plainly betrays their inability to
comprehend so queer an individual; they look as if they think me the
oddest specimen they have ever met, and taking into due consideration
my novel mode of conveyance, and that many Torbali people never before
saw an Englishman, this is probably not far from a correct interpretation
of their thoughts.

Unfortunately, the streets and environments of Torbali are in a most
wretched condition; to escape sprained ankles it is necessary to walk
with a great deal of caution, and the idea of bicycling through them
is simply absurd. Nevertheless the populace turns out in high glee, and
their expectations run riot as I relieve the kahvay-jee of his faithful
vigil and bring forth my wheel. They want me to bin in their stuffy
little bazaar, crowded with people and donkeys; mere alley-ways with
scarcely a twenty yard stretch from one angle to another; the surface
is a disorganized mass of holes and stones over which the wary and
hesitative donkey picks his way with the greatest care; and yet the
popular clamor is "Bin, bin; bazaar, bazaar." The people who have been
showing me how courteously and considerately it is possible for Turks
to treat a stranger, now seem to have become filled with a determination
not to be convinced by anything I say to the contrary; and one of the
most importunate and headstrong among them sticks his bearded face almost
up against my own placid countenance (I have already learned to wear an
unruffled, martyr-like expression on these howling occasions) and fairly
shrieks out, "Bin! bin!" as though determined to hoist me iuto the saddle,
whether or no, by sheer force of his own desire to see me there. This
person ought to know better, for he wears the green turban of holiness,
proving him to have made a pilgrimage to Mecca, but the universal desire
to see the bicycle ridden seems to level all distinctions. All this
tumult, it must not be forgotten, is carried on in perfect good humor;
but it is, nevertheless, very annoying to have it seem that I am too
boorish to repay their kindness by letting them see me ride; even walking
out of town to avoid gratifying them, as some of them doubtless think.
These little embarrassments are some of the penalties of not knowing
enough of the language to be able to enter into explanations. Learning
that there is a piece of wagon-road immediately outside the town, I
succeed in silencing the clamor to so mo extent by promising to ride
when the araba yole is reached; whereupon hundreds come flocking out of
town, following expectantly at my heels. Consoling myself with the thought
that perhaps I will be able to mount and shake the clamorous multitude
off by a spurt, the promised araba yole is announced; but the fates are
plainly against me to-day, for I find this road leading up a mountain
slope from the very beginning. The people cluster expectantly around,
while I endeavor to explain that they are doomed to disappointment - that
to be disappointed in their expectations to see the araba ridden is
plainly their kismet, for the hill is too steep to be ridden. They laugh
knowingly and give me to understand that they are not quite such simpletons
as to think that an araba cannot be ridden along an araba yole. " This
is an araba yole," they argue, "you are riding an araba; we have seen
even our own clumsily-made arabas go up here time and again, therefore
it is evident that you are not sincere," and they gather closer around
and spend another ten minutes in coaxing. It is a ridiculous position
to be in; these people use the most endearing terms imaginable; some of
them kiss the bicycle and would get down and kiss my dust-begrimed
moccasins if I would permit it; at coaxing they are the most persevering
people I ever saw. To. convince them of the impossibility of riding up
the hill I allow a muscular young Turk to climb into the saddle and try
to propel himself forward while I hold him up. This has the desired
effect, and they accompany me farther up the slope to where they fancy
it to be somewhat less steep, a score of all too-willing hands being
extended to assist in trundling the machine. Here again I am subjected
to another interval of coaxing; and this same annoying programme is
carried out several times before I obtain my release. They are the most
headstrong, persistent people I have yet encountered; the natural pig-
headed disposition of the "unspeakable Turk" seems to fairly run riot
in this little valley, which at the point where Torbali is situated
contracts to a mere ravine between rugged heights.

For a full mile up the mountain road, and with a patient insistence quite
commendable in itself, they persist in their aggravating attentions;
aggravating, notwithstanding that they remain in the best of humor, and
treat me with the greatest consideration in every other respect, promptly
and severely checking any unruly conduct among the youngsters, which
once or twice reveals itself in the shape of a stone pitched into the
wheel, or some other pleasantry peculiar to the immature Turkish mind.
At length one enterprising young man, with wild visions of a flying
wheelman descending the mountain road with lightning-like velocity, comes
prominently to the fore, and unblushingly announces that they have been
bringing me along the wrong road; and, with something akin to exultation
in his gestures, motions for me to turn about and ride back. Had the
others seconded this brilliant idea there was nothing to prevent me from
being misled by the statement; but his conduct is at once condemned; for
though pig-headed, they are honest of heart, and have no idea of resorting
to trickery to gain their object. It now occurs to me that perhaps if I
turn round and ride down hill a short distance they will see that my
trundling up hill is really a matter of necessity instead of choice, and
thus rid me of their undesirable presence. Hitherto the slope has been
too abrupt to admit of any such thought, but now it becomes more gradual.
As I expected, the proposition is heralded with unanimous shouts of
approval, and I take particular care to stipulate that after this they
are to follow me no farther; any condition is acceptable to them as long
as it includes seeing how the thing is ridden. It is not without certain
misgivings that I mount and start cautiously down the declivity between
two rows of turbaned and fez-bedecked heads, for I have not yet forgotten
the disagreeable actions of the mob at Adrianople in running up behind
and giving the bicycle vigorous forward pushes, a proceeding that would
be not altogether devoid of danger here, for besides the gradient, one
side of the road is a yawning chasm. These people, however, confine
themselves solely to howling with delight, proving themselves to be well-
meaning and comparatively well-behaved after all. Having performed my
part of the compact, a few of the leading men shake hands, and express
their gratitude and well-wishes; and after calling back several youngsters
who seem unwilling to abide by the agreement forbidding them to follow
any farther, the whole noisy company proceed along footpaths leading
down the cliffs to town, which is in plain view almost immediately below.

The entire distance between Torbali and Keshtobek, where tomorrow forenoon
I cross over into the vilayet of Angora, is through a rough country for
bicycling. Forest-clad mountains, rocky gorges, and rolling hills
characterize the landscape; rocky passes lead over mountains where the
caravans, engaged in the exportation of mohair ever since that valuable
commodity first began to be exported, have worn ditch-like trails through
ridges of solid rock three feet in depth; over the less rocky and
precipitous hills beyond a comprehensive view is obtained of the country
ahead, and these time-honored trails are seen leading in many directions,
ramifying the country like veins of one common system, which are necessarily
drawn together wherever there is but one pass. Parts of these commercial
by-ways are frequently found to be roughly hedged with wild pear and
other hardy shrubs indigenous to the country-the relics of by-gone days,
planted when these now barren hills were cultivated, to protect the
growing crops from depredation. Old mill-stones with depressions in the
centre, formerly used for pounding corn in, and pieces of hewn masonry
are occasionally seen as one traverses these ancient trails, marking the
site of a village in days long past, when cultivation and centres of
industry were more conspicuous features of Asia Minor than they are to-
day; lone graves and graves in clusters, marked by rude unchiselled
headstones or oblong mounds of bowlders, are frequently observed,
completing the scene of general decay. While riding along these tortuous
ways, the smooth-worn camel-paths sometimes affording excellent wheeling,
the view ahead is often obstructed by the untrimmed hedges on either
side, and one sometimes almost comes into collision, in turning a bend,
with horsemen, wild-looking, armed formidably in the manner peculiar to
the country, as though they were assassins stealing forth under cover.
Occasionally a female bestriding a donkey suddenly appears but twenty
or thirty yards ahead, the narrowness and the crookedness of the hedged-in
trail favoring these abrupt meetings; shrouded perhaps in a white abbas,
and not infrequently riding a white donkey, they seldom fail to inspire
thoughts of ghostly equestriennes gliding silently along these now half-
deserted pathways. Many a hasty but sincere appeal is made to Allah by
these frightened ladies as they fancy themselves brought suddenly face
to face with the evil one; more than once this afternoon I overhear that
agonizing appeal for providential aid and protection of which I am the
innocent cause. The second thought of the lady - as if it occurred to her
that with any portion of her features visible she would be adjudged
unworthy of divine interference in her behalf - is to make sure that her
yashmak is not disarranged, and then comes a mute appeal to her attendant,
if she have one, for some explanation of the strange apparition so
suddenly and unexpectedly confronting them.

In view of the nature of the country and the distance to Keshtobek, I
have no idea of being able to reach that place to-night, and when I
arrive at the ruins of an old mud-built khan, at dusk, I conclude to sup
off the memories of my excellent dinner and a piece of bread I have in
my pocket, and avail myself of its shelter for the night. While eating
my frugal repast, up ride three mule-teers, who, after consulting among
themselves some minutes, finally picket their animals and prepare to
join my company; whether for all night or only to give their animals a
feed of grass, I am unable to say. Anyhow, not liking the idea of spending
the whole night, or any part of it, in these unfrequented hills with
three ruffianly-looking natives, I again take up my line of march along
mountain mule-paths for some three miles farther, when I descend into a
small valley, and it being too dark to undertake the task of pitching
my tent, I roll myself up in it instead. Soothed by the music of a
babbling brook, I am almost asleep, when a glorious meteor shoots athwart
the sky, lighting up the valley with startling vividness for one brief
moment, and then the dusky pall of night descends, and I am gathered
into the arms of Morpheus. Toward morning it grows chilly, and I am but
fitfully dozing in the early gray, when I am awakened by the bleating
and the pattering feet of a small sea of Angora goats. Starting up, I
discover that I am at that moment the mysterious and interesting subject
of conversation between four goatherds, who have apparently been quietly
surveying my sleeping form for some minutes. Like our covetous friends
beyond the Kara Su Pass, these early morning acquaintances are unlovely
representatives of their profession; their sword-blades are half naked,
the scabbards being rudely fashioned out of two sections of wood, roughly
shaped to the blade, and bound together at top and bottom with twine;
in addition to which are bell-mouthed pistols, half the size of a Queen
Bess blunderbuss. This villainous-looking quartette does not make "a
very reassuring picture in the foreground of one's waking moments, but
they are probably the most harmless mortals imaginable; anyhow, after
seeing me astir, they pass onl with their flocks and herds without even
submitting me to the customary catechizing. The morning light reveals
in my surroundings a most charming little valley, about half a mile wide,
walled in on the south by towering mountains covered with a forest of
pine and cedar, and on the north by low, brush-covered hills; a small
brook dances along the middle, and thin pasturage and scattered clumps
of willow fringe the stream. Three miles down the valley I arrive at a
roadside khan, where I obtain some hard bread that requires soaking in
water to make it eatable, and some wormy raisins; and from this choice
assortment I attempt to fill the aching void of a ravenous appetite;
with what success I leave to the reader's imagination. Here the khan-jee
and another man deliver themselves of one of. those strange requests
peculiar to the Asiatic Turk. They pool the contents of their respective
treasuries, making in all perhaps, three medjedis, and, with the simplicity
of children whose minds have not yet dawned upon the crooked ways of a
wicked world, they offer me the money in exchange for my Whitehouse
leather case with its contents. They have not the remotest idea of what
the case contains; but their inquisitiveness apparently overcomes all
other considerations. Perhaps, however, their seemingly innocent way of
offering me the money may be their own peculiar deep scheme of inducing
me to reveal the nature of its contents. For a short distance down the
valley I find road that is generally ridable, when it contracts to a
mere ravine, and the only road is the bowlder strewn bed of the stream,
which is now nearly dry, but in the spring is evidently a raging torrent.
An hour of this delectable exercise, and I emerge into a region of
undulating hills, among which are scattered wheat-fields and clusters
of mud-hovels which it would be a stretch of courtesy to term villages.
Here the poverty of the soil, or of the water-supply, is heralded to
every observant eye by the poverty-stricken appearance of , the villagers.
As I wheel along, I observe that these poor half-naked wretches are
gathering their scant harvest by the laborious process of pulling it up
by the roots, and carrying it to their common threshing-floor on donkeys'
backs. Here, also, I come to a camp of Turkish gypsies; they are dark-
skinned, with an abundance of long black hair dangling about their
shoulders, like our Indians; the women and larger girls are radiant in
scarlet calico and other high-colored fabrics, and they wear a profusion
of bead necklaces, armlets, anklets, and other ornaments dear to the
semi-savage mind; the younger children are as wild and as innocent of
clothing as their boon companions, the dogs. The men affect the fez and
general Turkish style of dress, with many unorthodox trappings and
embellishments, however; and with their own wild appearance, their high-
colored females, naked youngsters, wolfish-looking dogs, picketed horses,
and smoke-browned tents, they make a scene that, for picturesqueness,
can give odds even to the wigwam-villages of Uncle Sam's Crow scouts,
on the Little Big Horn River, Montana Territory, which is saying a good
deal. Twelve miles from my last night's rendezvous, I pass through
Keshtobek, a village that has evidently seen better days. The ruins of
a large stone khan take up all the central portion of the place; massive
gateways of hewn stone, ornamented by the sculptor's chisel, are still
standing, eloquent monuments of a more prosperous era. The unenterprising
descendants of the men who erected this substantial and commodious retreat
for passing caravans and travellers are now content to house themselves
and their families in tumble-down hovels, and to drift aimlessly and
unambitiously along on wretched fare and worse clothes, from the cradle
to the grave. The Keshtobek people seem principally interested to know
why I am travelling without any zaptieh escort; a stranger travelling
through these wooded mountains, without guard or guide, and not being
able to converse with the natives, seems almost beyond their belief.
When they ask me why I have no zaptieh, I tell them I have one, and show
them the Smith & Wesson. They seem to regard this as a very witty remark,
and say to each other: "He is right; an English effendi and an American
revolver don't require any zapliehs to take care of them, they are quite
able to look out for themselves." From Keshtobek my road leads down
another small valley, and before long I find myself in the Angora vilayet,
bowling briskly eastward over a most excellent road; not the mule-paths
of an hour ago, but a broad, well-graded highway, as good, clear into
Nalikhan, as the roads of any New England State. This sudden transition
is not unnaturally productive of some astonishment on my part, and
inquiries at Nalikhan result in the information that my supposed graded
wagon-road is nothing less than the bed of a proposed railway, the
preliminary grading for which has been finished between Keshtobek and
Angora for some time.

This valley seems to be the gateway into a country entirely different
from what I have hitherto traversed. Unlike the forest-crowned mountains
and shrubbery hills of this morning, the mountains towering aloft on
every hand are now entirely destitute of vegetation; but they are in
nowise objectionable to look upon on that account, for they have their
own peculiar features of loveliness. Various colored rocks and clays
enter into their composition; their giant sides are fantastically streaked
and seamed with blue, yellow, green, and red; these variegated masses
encompassing one round about on every side are a glorious sight-they are
more interesting, more imposing, more grand and impressive even than the
piny heights of Kodjaili. Many of these mountains bear evidence of mineral
formation, and anywhere in the Occident would be the scene of busy
operations. In Constantinople I heard an English mineralist, who has
lived many years in the country, express the belief that there is more
mineral buried in these Asia Minor hills than in a corresponding area
in any other part of the world; that he knew people who for years have
had their eye on certain localities of unusual promise waiting patiently
for the advantages of mineral development to dawn upon the sluggish mind
of Osmanli statesmen. At present it is useless to attempt prospecting,
for there is no guarantee of security; no sooner is anything of value
discovered than the finder is embarrassed by imperial taxes, local taxes,
backsheesh, and all manner of demands on his resources, often ending in
having everything coolly confiscated by the government; which, like the
dog in the manger, will do nothing with it, and is perfectly contented
and apathetic so long as no one else is reaping any benefit from it.

The general ridableness of this chemin de fer, as the natives have been
taught to call it, proves not to be without certain disadvantages, for
during the afternoon I unwittingly manage to do considerable mischief.
Suddenly meeting two horsemen, when bowling at a moderate pace around a
bend, the horse of one takes violent exception to my intrusion, and, in
spite of the excellent horsemanship of his rider, backs down into a small
ravine, both horse and rider coming to grief in some water at the bottom.
Fortunately, neither man nor horse sustained any more serious injury
than a few scratches and bruises, though it might easily have resulted
in broken bones. Soon after this affair, another donkey-rider takes to
his heels, or rather to his donkey's heels across country, and his long-
eared and generally sure-footed charger ingloriously comes to earth; but
I feel quite certain that no damage is sustained in this case, for both
steed and rider are instantly on their feet; the bold steeple-chaser
looks wildly and apprehensively toward me, but observing that I am giving
chase, it dawns upon his mind that I am perhaps after all a human being,
whereupon he refrains from further flight.

Wheeling down the gentle declivity of a broad, smooth road that almost
deserves the title of boulevard, leading through the vineyards and gardens
of Nalikhan's environments, at quite a rattling pace, I startle a quarry
of four dears (deers) robed in white mantles, who, the moment they observe
the strange apparition approaching them at so vengeful a speed, bolt
across a neighboring vineyard like the all-possessed. The rapidity of
their movements, notwithstanding the impedimenta of their flowing shrouds,
readily suggests the idea of a quarry of dears (deer), but whether they
are pretty dears or not, of course, their yashmaks fail to reveal; but
in return for the beaming smile that lights up our usually solemn-looking
countenance at their ridiculously hasty flight, as a reciprocation pure
and simple, I suppose we ought to give them the benefit of the doubt.

The evening at Nalikhan is a comparatively happy occasion; it is Friday,
the Mussulman Sabbath; everybody seems fairly well-dressed for a Turkish
interior town; and, more important than all, there is a good, smooth
road on which to satisfy the popular curiosity; on 'this latter fact
depends all the difference between an agreeable and a disagreeable time,
and at Nalikhan everything passes off pleasantly for all concerned. Apart
from the novelty of my conveyance, few Europeans have ever visited these
interior places under the same conditions as myself. They have usually
provided themselves beforehand with letters of introduction to the pashas
and mudirs of the villages, who have entertained them as their guests
during their stay. On the contrary, I have seen fit to provide myself
with none of these way-smoothing missives, and, in consequence of my
linguistic shortcomings, immediately upon reaching a town I have to
surrender myself, as it were, to the intelligence and good-will of the
common people; to their credit be it recorded, I can invariably count
on their not lacking at least the latter qualification. The little khan
I stop at is, of course, besieged by the usual crowd, but they are a
happy-hearted, contented people, bent on lionizing me the best they know
how; for have they not witnessed my marvellous performance of riding an
araba, a beautiful web-like araba, more beautiful than any makina they
ever saw before, and in a manner that upsets all their previous ideas
of equilibrium. Have I not proved how much I esteem them by riding over
and over again for fresh batches of new arrivals, until the whole
population has seen the performance. And am I not hobnobbing and making
myself accessible to the people, instead of being exclusive and going
straightway to the pasha's, shutting myself up and permitting none but
a few privileged persons to intrude upon my privacy . All these things
appeal strongly to the better nature of the imaginative Turks, and not
a moment during the whole evening am I suffered to be unconscious of
their great appreciation of it all. A bountiful supper of scrambled eggs
fried in butter, and then the miilazim of zaptiehs takes me under his
special protection and shows me around the town. He shows me where but
a few days ago the Nalikhan bazaar, with all its multifarious merchandise,
was destroyed by fire, and points out the temporary stalls, among the
black ruins, that have been erected by the pasha for the poor merchants
who, with heavy hearts and doleful countenance, are trying to recuperate
their shattered fortunes. He calls my attention to two-story wooden
houses and other modest structures, which, in the simplicity of his
Asiatic soul, he imagines are objects of interest; and then he takes me
to the headquarters of his men, and sends out for coffee in order to
make me literally his guest. Here, in his office, he calls my attention
to a chromo hanging on the wall, which he says came from Stamboul -
Stamboul, where the Asiatic Turk fondly imagines all wonderful things
originate.This chromo is certainly a wonderful thing in its way. It
represents an English trooper in the late Soudan expedition kneeling behind
the shelter of a dead camel, and with a revolver in each hand keeping at
bay a crowd of Arab spearmen. The soldier is badly wounded, but with
smoking revolvers and an evident determination to die hard, he has checked,
and is still checking, the advance of somewhere about ten thousand Arab
troops. No wonder the people of Keshtobek thought an Englishman and a
revolver quite safe in travelling without zaptiehs; some of them had
probably been to Nalikhan and seen this same chromo.

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