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Around the World on a Bicycle V1

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




"Yes," suggests the practical-minded Suleiman Effendi, "yes, Mustapha,
you may have mariftt enough to make one; but when you have finished it,
who among all of us will have marifet enough to ride it?"

"True, effendi," solemnly assents another, "we would have to send for
an Englishman to ride it for us, after Mustapha had turned it out. "

The Mayor now requests me to ride along the road once or twice to appease
the clamor of the multitude until the Vali arrives. The crowd along the
road is tremendous, and on a neighboring knoll, commanding a view of the
proceedings, are several carriageloads of ladies, the wives and female
relatives of the officials. The Mayor is indulgent to his people, allowing
them to throng the roadway, simply ordering the zaptiehs to keep my road
through the surging mass open. While on the home-stretch from the second
spin, up dashes the Vali in the state equipage with quite an imposing
bodyguard of mounted zaptiehs, their chief being a fine military-looking
Circassian in the picturesque military costume of the Caucasus. These
horsemen the Governor at once orders to clear the people entirely off
the road-way - an order no sooner given than executed; and after the
customary interchange of salutations, I mount and wheel briskly up the
broad, smooth macadam between two compact masses of delighted natives;
excitement runs high, and the people clap their hands and howl approvingly
at the performance, while the horsemen gallop briskly to and fro to keep
them from intruding on the road after I have wheeled past, and obstructing
the Governor's view. After riding back and forth a couple of times, I
dismount at the Vali's carriage; a mutual interchange of adieus and well-
wishes all around, and I take my departure, wheeling along at a ten-mile
pace amid the vociferous plaudits of at least four thousand people, who
watch my retreating figure until I disappear over the brow of a hill.
At the upper end of the main crowd are stationed the "irregular cavalry"
on horses, mules, and donkeys; and among the latter I notice our
ingenious friend, the armless youth of yesterday, whom I now make happy
by a nod of recognition, having scraped up a backsheesh acquaintance
with him yesterday.

For.some miles the way continues fairly smooth and hard, leading through
a region of low vineyard-covered hills, but ere long I arrive at the
newly made road mentioned by the Vali. After which, like the course of
true love, my forward career seldom runs smooth for any length of time,
though ridable donkey-trails occasionally run parallel with the bogus
chemin defer. For mile after mile I now alternately ride and trundle
along donkey-paths, by the side of an artificial highway that would be
an enterprise worthy of a European State. The surface of the road is
either gravelled or of broken rock, and well rounded for self-drain-
age; it is graded over the mountains, and wooden bridges, with substantial
rock supports, are built across the streams; nothing is lacking except
the vehicles to utilize it. In the absence of these it would almost seem
to have been an unnecessary and superfluous expenditure of the people's
labor to make such a road through a country most of which is fit for
little else but grazing goats and buffaloes. Aside from some half-dozen
carriages at Angora, and a few light government postaya arabas - an
innovation from horses for carrying the mail, recently introduced as a
result of the improved roads, and which make weekly trips between such
points as Angora, Yuzgat, and Tokat - the only vehicles in the country are
the buffalo-carts of the larger farmers, rude home made arabas with solid
wooden wheels, whose infernal creaking can be heard for a mile, and which
they seldom take any distance from home, preferring their pack-donkeys
and cross-country trails when going to town with produce. Perhaps in
time vehicular traffic may appear as a result of suitable roads; but the
natives are slow to adopt new improvements.

About two hours from Angora I pass tbrough a swampy upland basin,
containing several small lakes, and then emerge into a much less mountainous
country, passing several mud villages, the inhabitants of which are a
dark-skinned people-Turkoman refugees, I think-who look several degrees
less particular about their personal cleanliness than the villagers west
of Angora. Their wretched mud hovels would seem to indicate the last
degree of poverty, but numerous flocks of goats and herds of buffalo
grazing near apparently tell a somewhat different story. The women and
children seem mostly engaged in manufacturing cakes of tezek (large flat
cakes of buffalo manure mixed with chopped straw, which are "dobbed"
on the outer walls to dry; it makes very good fuel, like the "buffalo
chips" of the far West), and stacking it up on the house-tops, with
provident forethought, for the approaching winter.

Just as darkness is beginning to settle down over the landscape I arrive
at one of these unpromising-looking clusters, which, it seems, are now
peculiar to the country, and not characteristic of any particular race,
for the one I arrive at is a purely Turkish village. After the usual
preliminaries of pantomime and binning, I am conducted to a capacious
flat roof, the common covering of several dwellings and stables bunched
up together. This roof is as smooth and hard as a native threshing-floor,
and well knowing, from recent experiences, the modus operandi of capturing
the hearts of these bland and childlike villagers, I mount and straightway
secure their universal admiration and applause by riding a few times
round the roof. I obtain a supper of fried eggs and yaort (milk soured
with rennet), eating it on the house-top, surrounded by the whole
population of the village, on this and adjoining roofs, who watch my
every movement with the most intense curiosity. It is the raggedest
audience I have yet been favored with. There are not over half a dozen
decently clad people among them all, and two of these are horsemen,
simply remaining over night, like myself. Everybody has a fearfully flea-
bitten appearance, which augurs ill for a refreshing night's repose.

Here, likewise I am first introduced to a peculiar kind of bread, that
I straightway condemn as the most execrable of the many varieties my
everchanging experiences bring me in contact with, and which I find
myself mentally, and half unconsciously, naming - " blotting-paper ekmek"
-a not inappropriate title to convey its appearance to the civilized
mind; but the sheets of blotting-paper must be of a wheaten color and
in circular sheets about two feet in diameter. This peculiar kind of
bread is, we may suppose, the natural result of a great scarcity of fuel,
a handful of tezek, beneath the large, thin sheet-iron griddle, being
sufficient to bake many cakes of this bread. At first I start eating it
something like a Shanty town goat would set about consuming a political
poster, if it - not the political poster, but the Shanty town goat - had a
pair of hands. This outlandish performance creates no small merriment
among the watchful on-lookers, who forthwith initiate me into the mode
of eating it a la Turque, which is, to roll it up like a scroll of paper
and bite mouthfuls off the end. I afterwards find this particular variety
of ekmek quite handy when seated around a communal bowl of yaort with a
dozen natives; instead of taking my turn with the one wooden spoon in
common use, I would form pieces of the thin bread into small handleless
scoops, and, dipping up the yaort, eat scoop and all. Besides sparing
me from using the same greasy spoon in common with a dozen natives, none
of them overly squeamish as regards personal cleanliness, this gave me
the appreciable advantage of dipping into the dish as often as I choose,
instead of waiting for my regular turn at the wooden spoon.

Though they are Osmanli Turks, the women of these small villages appear
to make little pretence of covering their faces. Among themselves they
constitute, as it were, one large family gathering, and a stranger is
but seldom seen. They are apparently simple-minded females, just a trifle
shame-faced in their demeanor before a stranger, sitting apart by
themselves while listening to the conversation between myself and the
men. This, of course, is very edifying, even apart from its pantomimic
and monosyllabic character, for I am now among a queer people, a people
through the unoccupied chambers of whose unsophisticated minds wander
strange, fantastic thoughts. One of the transient horsemen, a contemplative
young man, the promising appearance of whose upper lip proclaims him
something over twenty, announces that he likewise is on the way to Yuzgat;
and after listening attentively to my explanations of how a wheelman
climbs mountains and overcomes stretches of bad road, he solemnly inquires
whether a 'cycler could scurry up a mountain slope all right if some one
were to follow behind and touch him up occasionally with a whip, in the
persuasive manner required in driving a horse. He then produces a rawhide
"persuader," and ventures the opinion that if he followed close behind
me to Yuzgat, and touched me up smartly with it whenever we came to a
mountain, or a sandy road, there would be no necessity of trundling any
of the way. He then asks, with the innocent simplicity of a child, whether
in case he made the experiment, I would get angry and shoot him.

The other transient appears of a more speculative turn of mind, and draws
largely upon his own pantomimic powers and my limited knowledge of
Turkish, to ascertain the difference between the katch lira of a bicycle
at retail, and the hatch lira of its manufacture. From the amount of
mental labor he voluntarily inflicts upon himself to acquire this
particular item of information, I apprehend that nothing less than wild
visions of acquiring a rapid fortune by starting a bicycle factory at
Angora, are flitting through his imaginative mind. The villagers themselves
seem to consider me chiefly from the standpoint of their own peculiar
ideas concerning the nature of an Englishman's feelings toward a Russian.
My performance on the roof has put them in the best of humor, and has
evidently whetted their appetites for further amusement. Pointing to a
stolid-looking individual, of an apparently taciturn disposition, and
who is one of the respectably-dressed few, they accuse him of being a
Eussiau; and then all eyes are turned towards me, as though they quite
expect to see me rise up wrathfully and make some warlike demonstration
against him. My undemonstrative disposition forbids so theatrical a
proceeding, however, and I confine myself to making a pretence of falling
into the trap, casting furtive glances of suspicion towards the supposed
hated subject of the Czar, and making whispered inquiries of my immediate
neighbors concerning the nature of his mission in Turkish territory.
During this interesting comedy the "audience" are fairly shaking in
their rags with suppressed merriment; and when the taciturn individual
himself - who has thus far retained his habitual self-composure - growing
restive under the hateful imputation of being a Muscov and my supposed
bellicose sentiments toward him in consequence, finally repudiates the
part thus summarily assigned him, the whole company bursts out into a
boisterous roar of laughter. At this happy turn of sentiment I assume
an air of intense relief, shake the taciturn man's hand, and, borrowing
the speculative transient's fez, proclaim myself a Turk, an act that
fairly "brings down the house."

Thus the evening passes merrily away until about ten o'clock, when the
people begin to slowly disperse to the roofs of their respective
habitations, the whole population sleeping on the house-tops, with no
roof over them save the star-spangled vault - the arched dome of the great
mosque of the universe, so often adorned with the pale yellow, crescent-shaped
emblem of their religion. Several families occupy the roof which has
been the theatre of the evening's social gathering, and the men now
consign me to a comfortable couch made up of several quilts, one of the
transients thoughtfully cautioning me to put my moccasins under my pillow,
as these articles were the object of almost universal covetousness during
the evening. No sooner am I comfortably settled down, than a wordy warfare
breaks out in my immediate vicinity, and an ancient female makes a
determined dash at my coverlet, with the object of taking forcible
possession; but she is seized and unceremoniously hustled away by the
men who assigned me my quarters. It appears that, with an eye singly and
disinterestedly to my own comfort, and regardless of anybody else's,
they have, without taking the trouble to obtain her consent, appropriated
to my use the old lady's bed, leaving her to shift for herself any way
she can, a high-handed proceeding that naturally enough arouses her
virtuous indignation to the pitch of resentment. Upon this fact occurring
to me, I of course immediately vacate the property in dispute, and, with
true Western gallantry, arraign myself on the rightful owner's side by
carrying my wheel and other effects to another position; whereupon a
satisfactory compromise is soon arranged between the disputants, by which
another bed ia prepared for me, and the ancient dame takes triumphant
possession of her own. Peace and tranquillity being thus established on
a firm basis, the several families tenanting our roof settle themselves
snugly down. The night is still and calm, and naught is heard save my
nearer neighbors' scratching, scratching, scratching. This - not the
scratching, but the quietness - doesn't last long, however, for it is
customary to collect all the four-footed possessions of the village
together every night and permit them to occupy the inter-spaces between
the houses, while the humans are occupying the roofs, the horde of watch-
dogs being depended upon to keep watch and ward over everything. The
hovels are more underground than above the surface, and often, when the
village occupies sloping ground, the upper edge of the roof is practically
but a continuation of the solid ground, or at the most there is but a
single step-up between them. The goats are of course permitted to wander
whithersoever they will, and equally, of course, they abuse their
privileges by preferring the roofs to the ground and wandering incessantly
about among the sleepers. Where the roof comes too near the ground some
temporary obstruction is erected, to guard against the intrusion of
venturesome buffaloes. No sooner have the humans quieted down, than
several goats promptly invade the roof, and commence their usual nocturnal
promenade among the prostrate forms of their owners, and further indulge
their well-known goatish propensities by nibbling away the edges of the
roof. (They would, of course, prefer a square meal off a patchwork quilt,
but from their earliest infancy they are taught that meddling with the
bedclothes will bring severe punishment.) A buffalo occasionally gives
utterance to a solemn, prolonged " m-o-o-o;" now and then a baby wails
its infantile disapproval of the fleas, and frequent noisy squabbles
occur among the dogs. Under these conditions, it is not surprising that
one should woo in vain the drowsy goddess; and near midnight some person
within a few yards of my couch begins groaning fearfully, as if in great
pain - probably a case of the stomach-ache, I mentally conclude, though
this hasty conclusion may not unnaturally result from an inner consciousness
of being better equipped for curing that particular affliction than any
other. From the position of the sufferer, I am inclined to think it is
the same ancient party that ousted me out of her possessions two hours
ago, and I lay here as far removed from the realms of unconsciousness
as the moment I retired, expecting every minute to see her appear before
me in a penitential mood, asking me to cure her, for the inevitable hakim
question had been raised during the evening. She doesn't present herself,
however; perhaps the self-accusations of her conscience, for having in
the moment of her wrath attempted to appropriate my coverlet in so rude
a manner, prevent her appealing to me now in the hour of distress. These
people are early risers; the women are up milking the goats and buffaloes
before daybreak, and the men hieing them away to the harvest fields and
threshing-floors. I, likewise, bestir myself at daylight, intending to
reach the next village before breakfast.






CHAPTER XIV.




ACROSS THE KIZIL IRMAK RIVER TO YUZGAT.

The country continues much the same as yesterday, with the road indifferent
for wheeling. Reaching the expected village about eight o'clock, I
breakfast off ekmek and new buffalo milk, and at once continue on my
way, meeting nothing particularly interesting, save a lively bout
occasionally with goat-herds' dogs - the reminiscences of which are doubtless
more vividly interesting to myself than they would be to the reader - until
high noon, when I arrive at another village, larger, but equally wretched-
looking, on the Kizil Irmak River, called Jas-chi-khan. On the west bank
of the stream are some ancient ruins of quite massive architecture, and
standing on the opposite side of the road, evidently having some time
been removed from the ruins with a view to being transported elsewhere,
is a couchant lion of heroic proportions, carved out of a solid block
of white marble; the head is gone, as though its would-be possessors,
having found it beyond their power to transport the whole animal, have
made off with what they could. An old and curiously arched bridge of
massive rock spans the river near its entrance to a wild, rocky gorge
in the mountains; a primitive grist mill occupies a position to the left,
near the entrance to the gorge, and a herd of camels are slaking their
thirst or grazing near the water's edge to the right - a genuine Eastern
picture, surely, and one not to be seen every day, even in the land where
to see it occasionally is quite possible.

Riding into Jas-chi-khan, I dismount at a building which, from the
presence of several "do-nothings," I take to be a khan for the accommodation
of travellers. In a partially open shed-like apartment are a number of
demure looking maidens, industriously employed in weaving carpets by
hand on a rude, upright frame, while two others, equally demure-looking,
are seated on the ground cracking wheat for pillau, wheat being substituted
for rice where the latter is not easily obtainable, or is too expensive.
Waiving all considerations of whether I am welcome or not, I at once
enter this abode of female industry, and after watching the interesting
process of carpet-weaving for some minutes, turn my attention to the
preparers of cracked wheat. The process is the same primitive one that
has been employed among these people from time immemorial, and the same
that is referred to in the passage of Scripture which says: "Two women
were grinding corn in the field;" it consists of a small upper and nether
millstone, the upper one being turned round by two women sitting facing
each other; they both take hold of a perpendicular wooden handle with
one hand, employing the other to feed the mill and rake away the cracked
grain. These two young women have evidently been very industrious this
morning; they have half-buried themselves in the product of their labors,
and are still grinding away as though for their very lives, while the
constant "click-clack " of the carpet weavers prove them likewise the
embodiment of industry. They seem rather disconcerted by the abrupt
intrusion and scrutinizing attentions of a Frank and a stranger; however,
the fascinating search for bits of interesting experience forbids my
retirement on that account, but rather urges me to make the most
of fleeting opportunities. Picking up a handful of the cracked wheat, I
inquire of one of the maidens if it is for pillau; the maiden blushes
at being thus directly addressed, and with downcast eyes vouchsafes an
affirmative nod in reply; at the same time an observant eye happens to
discover a little brown big-toe peeping out of the heap of wheat, and
belonging to the same demure maiden with the downcast eyes. I know full
well that I am stretching a point of Mohammedan etiquette, even by coming
among these industrious damsels in the manner I am doing, but the attention
of the men is fully concentrated on the bicycle outside, and the
temptation of trying the experiment of a little jocularity, just to see
what comes of it, is under the circumstances irresistible. Conscious of
venturing where angels fear to tread. I stoop down, and take hold of the
peeping little brown big-toe, and addressing the demure maiden with the
downcast eyes, inquire, "Is this also for pillau." This proves entirely
too much for the risibilities of the industrious pillau grinders, and
letting go the handle of the mill, they both give themselves up to
uncontrollable laughter; the carpet-weavers have been watching me out
of the corners of their bright, black eyes, and catching the infection,
the click clack of the carpet-weaving machines instantly ceases, and
several of the weavers hurriedly retreat into an adjoining room to avoid
the awful and well-nigh unheard-of indiscretion of laughing in the
presence of a stranger. Having thus yielded to the temptation and witnessed
the results, I discreetly retire, meeting at the entrance a gray-bearded
Turk coming to see what the merriment and the unaccountable stopping of
the carpet-weaving frames is all about. A sheep has been slaughtered in
Jas-chi-khan this morning, and I obtain a nice piece of mutton, which I
hand to a bystander, asking him to go somewhere and cook it; in five
minutes he returns with the meat burnt black outside and perfectly raw
within. Seeing my evident disapproval of its condition, the same ancient
person who recently appeared upon the scene of my jocular experiment and
who has now squatted himself down close beside me, probably to make sure
against any further indiscretions, takes the meat, slashes it across in
several directions with his dagger, orders the afore-mentioned bystander
to try it over again, and then coolly wipes his blackened and greasy
fingers on my sheet of ekmek as though it were a table napkin. I obtain
a few mouthfuls of eatable meat from the bystander's second culinary
effort, and then buy a water-melon from a man happening along with a
laden donkey; cutting iuto the melon I find it perfectly green all
through, and toss it away; the men look surprised, and some youngsters
straightway pick it up, eat the inside out until they can scoop out no
more, and then, breaking the rind in pieces, they scrape it out with
their teeth until it is of egg-shell thinness. They seem to do these
things with impunity in Asia.

The grade and the wind are united against me on leaving Jas-chi-khan,
but it is ridable, and having made such a dismal failure about getting
dinner, I push on toward a green area at the base of a rocky mountain
spur, which I observed an hour ago from a point some distance west of
the Kizil Irmak, and concluded to be a cluster of vineyards. This
conjecture turns out quite correct, and, what is more, my experience
upon arriving there would seem to indicate that the good genii detailed
to arrange the daily programme of my journey had determined to recompense
me to-day for having seen nothing of the feminine world of late but
yashmaks and shrouds, and momentary monocular evidence; for here again
am I thrown into the society of a bevy of maidens, more interesting, if
anything, than the nymphs of industry at Jas-chi-khan. There is apparently
some festive occasion at the little vineyard-environed village, which
stands back a hundred yards or so from the road, and which ia approached
by a narrow foot-way between thrifty-looking vineyards. Three blooming
damsels, in all the bravery of holiday attire, with necklaces and pendants
of jingling coins to distinguish them from the matrons, come hurrying
down the pathway toward the road at my approach. Seeing me dismount,
upon arriving opposite the village, the handsomest and gayest dressed
of the three goes into one of the vineyards, and with charming grace of
manner, presents herself before me with both hands overflowing with
bunches of luscious black grapes. Their abundant black tresses are
gathered in one long plait behind; they wear bracelets, necklaces,
pendants, brow-bands, head ornaments, and all sorts of wonderful articles
of jewelry, made out of the common silver and metallic coins of the
country; they are small of stature and possess oval faces, large black eyes,
and warm, dark complexions. Their manner and dress prove rather a puzzle
in determining their nationality; they are not Turkish, nor Greek, nor
Armenian, nor Circassian; they may possibly be sedentary Turkomans; but
they possess rather a Jewish cast of countenance, and my first impression
of them is, that they are "Bible people," the original inhabitants of the
country, who have somehow managed to cling to their little possessions here,
in spite of Greeks, Turks, and Persians, and other conquering races who
have at times overrun the country; perhaps they have softened the hearts of
everybody undertaking to oust them by their graceful manners.

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