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You're built to win it. Welcome to Snewscast, the podcast designed to help you fall asleep. Find the son'snewscast.com and follow us on Instagram at Snewscast to find behind the scenes content. If you enjoy our show, please read a review on the Apple Podcasts app. Please know that we read and appreciate every single one. If you would like to get an email once a week with upcoming sleep stories and other news, subscribe to the snooze letter at snoozecast.com. This episode is brought to you by our Patreon supporters and by Camel Caravans. Tonight we'll read the opening to Across Asia on a Bicycle, published in 1894 and written by Thomas Allen and William Sochtleben. This book is made up of a series of sketches describing a bicycle journey around the world and specifically across Asia. Alan and Sock Lieben set a record for the longest continuous land journey ever made around the world. The day after they graduated college in St. Louis, Missouri, the two friends set out on their journey. Almost three years later, they rolled back into New York on their wheels, having as they

write put a girdle around the earth. Let's get cozy. Close your eyes. Relax your body into the softness of your bed.

Now, take a few deep breaths. on On a morning early in April, the little steamer conveying us across from Istanbul, touched the Wharf at Heider Pasha. Amid the din of Greeks, Armenians, Turks and Italians, we trundled our bicycles across the Gangplank, which for us was the threshold of Asia, the beginning of an inland journey of 7,000 miles to the Pacific. Through the morning fog, which enveloped the shipping in the Golden Horn, the stars and stripes at a single mast head were waving farewell to two American students fresh from college who had nerve themselves for nearly two years of separation from the comforts of civilization. Our guide to the road to Ismit, Turkey, was the little 12-year-old son of an Armenian doctor whose guests we had

been during our Sojourn in Istanbul. He trotted for some distance by our side, and then pressing

our hands in both of his, he said, with childlike sincerity, I hope God will take care of you. The idea of a trip around the world had been conceived by us as a practical finish to a theoretical education, and the bicycle feature was adopted merely as a means to that end. On reaching London, we had formed the plan of penetrating the heart of the asiatic continent instead of skirting its coastline. or a passport and other credentials necessary in journeying through Russia and Central Asia, we had been advised to make application to the Tsar's representative on our arrival as we would enter the Russian Dominions from Persia. And to that end, the Russian minister in London had provided us with a

letter of introduction. In London, the secretary of the Chinese legation, a scotchman, had assisted us in

mapping out a possible route across the celestial empire, although he endeavored from the very start to dissuade us from our purpose. Application had then been made to the Chinese minister himself for the necessary passport. reply we received, though courteous, smacked strongly of reproof. Western China, he said, is overrun with laulas bands, and the people themselves are very much averse to foreigners. Your extraordinary mode of locomotion would subject you to annoyance, if not to positive danger, at the hands of a people who are naturally curious and superstitious. However, he added, after some reflection, If your minister makes a request for a passport, we will see what can be done. The most I can do will be to ask for you the protection and assistance of the officials only. For the people themselves I cannot answer. If you go into that country, you do so at your own risk. Minister Lincoln was sitting in his private office when we called the next morning at the American Legation. He listened to the recital of our plans, got down the huge atlas from his bookcase, and went over with us the route we proposed to follow. He did not regard the undertaking as feasible, and apprehended that if he should give his official assistance, he would, in a, be responsible for the result if it should prove unhappy. When assured of the consent of our parents and of our determination to make the attempt at all hazards, he picked up his pen and began a letter to the Chinese minister, remarking as he finished reading it to us. I would much rather not have written it. The documents received from the Chinese minister in response to Mr. Lincoln's letter, proved to be indispensable when, a year and a half later, we left the last outpost of Western civilization and plunged into the Kobe desert. When we had paid a final visit to the Persian minister in London, who had asked to see our bicycles and their baggage equipment. He signified his intention of writing in our behalf to friends in Tehran. And to that capital, after cycling through Europe, we were now actually en route. Since the opening of the Trans-Boss Purse Railway, the wagon rode to Izmit, and even the Angora military highway beyond have fallen rapidly into disrepair. In April, they were almost impassable for the wheel, so that for the greater part of the way, we were obliged to take the track. Like the railway skirting the Italian Riviera, this trans-Bossperous road, for a great distance, and tunnels the tunnels, the cliffs, along the Gulf of Izmid. And sometimes runs so close to the water's edge that the puffing of the car of vapor, or land steamer, as the Turks call it, is drowned by the roaring breakers. The country surpasses in agricultural advantages any part of Asiatic Turkey through which we passed. Its fertile soil and the luxuriant vegetation its supports are, as we afterward learned, in striking contrast with the sterile plateaus and mountains of the interior, many parts of which are as desolate as the deserts of Arabia, in area, Asia Minor equals France, but the water supply of its rivers is only one-third. One of the principal agents in the work of transforming Asia Minor is the railroad. The locomotive is already competing with the 160,000 camels in M-M-M-M-M-M-M--Bossper's railway, where we left the track to follow the Angora highway, The ships of the desert are beginning to transfer their cargoes to the land steamer instead of continuing on as in former days to the boss-porous. The trans-boss-porous line in the year of our visit, was being built and operated by a German company under the direct patronage of the Sultan. We ventured to ask some natives if they thought the Sultan had sufficient funds to consummate so gigantic a scheme and they replied with deepest reverence.

God has given the Potasha much property and power, and certainly he must give him enough money to utilize it. A weak cycling from the Bosporus brought us beyond the Alladah mountains among the barren, varicated hills that skirt the Angora Plateau. We had already passed through Ismid, the ancient Nicomedia and capital of Diocletian, and had left behind us the heavily timbreed valley of the Zakaria. Upon whose banks he settled with his four hundred tents and laid the foundation of the Ottoman Empire. Since leaving, we had been attended by a mounted guard who was sometimes forced upon us by the authorities in their anxiety to carry out the wishes expressed in the letters of the Grand Vizier. On emerging from the door of an inn, we frequently found this unexpected guard, waiting with the Winchester swungung over his shoulder, and a fleet steed, standing by his side. Immediately on our appearance, he would swing into the saddle and charge through the assembled rabble, a way we would go at a rapid pace down down the streets of the town, or village, to the utter amazement of the people and the great satisfaction of our vain glorious guard, as long as his horse was fresh, or until we were out of sight of the village, he would urges on with cries of, come on,

ride fast. When a bad piece of road, or a steep ascent forced us to dismount, he would bring his horse to a walk, roll a cigarette, and draw in videos comparisons between our His tone, however, changed when we reached a decline or long stretch a reasonably good road. Then he would cut across country to head us off or shout after us at the top of his voice, Yavash, Yavash, slowly, slowly. On the whole we found them good-natured and companionable fellows, notwithstanding their interest in Baksish, which we were compelled at last in self-defense to fix at one p.a.ster an hour. We frequently shared with them our frugal and even scanty meals, and in turn they assisted us in our purchases and arrangements for lodgings. For their word, we found was with the the common people, and almost unwritten law. Then, too, they were of great assistance in crossing streams, where the depth would have necessitated the stripping of garments. Although their fiery little steeds, sometimes objected to having an extra rider astride their haunches and a bicycle across their shoulders. They seized every opportunity to impress us with the necessity of being accompanied by a government representative, in some lonely portion of the road, or in the suggestive stillness of an evening twilight, Arturkish Donkiyoti would sometimes cast mysterious glances around him, take his Winchester from his shoulder, and throw it across the pommel of his saddle, charge ahead to meet the imaginary enemy. But we were more harmful than harmed. For despite our most vigilant care, the bicycles were sometimes the occasion of a stampede or runaway among the care of ants and teams along the highway, and we were frequently assisted in replacing the loads, thus upset. On such occasions, our pretentious cavalier would remain on his horse, smoking his cigarette and smiling, distainfully. It was in the company of one of these military champions that we emerged on the morning of April 12th upon the plateau of Angola. On the spring pasture, we're feeding several flocks of the famous goats, and the fat-tailed sheep tended by the U-rock shepherds and their half-wild and monstrous callies, whose half-savage nature fits them to cope with the jackals which infest the country. The shepherds did not check their sudden onslaught upon us until we were pressed to very close quarters and had drawn our revolvers and self-defense. These U-rocks are the nomadic portion of the Turkish peasantry. They live in caves or huts, shifting their habitation at will, or upon the exhaustion of the pastryage. Their trousers and caps being made of sheepskin and the tunic of plated wheat straw. In contra distinction to the U-rocks, the settled inhabitants of the country are called Turks. That term, however, which means rustic, is never used by the Turks themselves except in derision or disdain. They always speak of themselves as osmanly. The great length of the fleece, which sometimes reaches eight inches, is due solely to the climate of the locality. The same goats taken elsewhere have not thrived. Even the dogs and cats are remarkable for the extraordinary length of their fleecy covering. On nearing Angora itself, we raced at high speed over the undulating plateau. Our guard on his jaded horse faded away in the dim distance, and we saw him no more. This was our last guard for many weeks to come, and we decided to dispense with an escort that really slowed us down. But, on reaching Erzurum, the valley refused us permission to enter the district of Allishgird without a guard, so we were forced to take one. We were now on historic ground, to our right On the river, a tributary was the little village of Estonus, where stood the ancient seat of King Midas and where Alexander the Great cut with his sword the Gordian knot to prove his right to the rulership of the world. On the plane over which we were now skimming, the great Tatar fought the memorable battle which resulted in the capture of the Ottoman conqueror. the time that the title of Asia applied to the small coast province of Lydia, this country has been the theater for the grandest events in human history. The old mud houses of modern Angora, as we rolled into this city, contrasted strongly with the cycloplian walls of its ancient fortress. After two days in Angora, we diverged from the direct route to Sivas through Yosgat, so as to visit the city of Kysheria. Through the efforts of the progressive valley at Angora, a paved road was in the course of construction to this point, a part of which to the town of Kersher was already completed. surrounded by unusual fertility and luxuriance for an interior town, the low mud houses and treeless streets gave this town that same thirsty and painfully uniform appearance which characterizes every village or city in Asiatic Turkey. The mud buildings of Babylon and not the marble edifices of Nineveh have served as models for the Turkish architect. We have seen the Turks when making the mudunchstrab bricks used in house-building,

scratched dirt for the purpose from between the marble slabs and boulders that lay in profusion over the ground. A few of the government buildings and some of the larger private residences are improved by a coat of white wash. And now and then the warm spring showers bring out on the mud roofs that frequently serves as pasture for the family goat. Everything is low and contracted, especially the doorways when a foreigner bumps his head and demands the reason for such architecture. He is met with that decisive answer, a debt, custom, the most powerful of all influences in Turkey and the East. Our entry was typical of our reception everywhere. When we were seen approaching, several horsemen came out to get a look at our strange horses. They challenged us to erase and set a spanking pace down into the streets of the town. Before we reached the con or in, we were obliged to dismount. Bin, bin, ride, ride went up in a shout. It is impossible, we explained, in such a jam, and the crowd opened up three or four feet ahead of us, ride, so that we can see, they shouted again. And some of them rushed up to hold our steeds for us to mount. With the greatest difficulty, we impressed upon our persistent assistance that they could not help us. By the time we reached the con, the crowd had become almost a mob, pushing and tumbling over one another, and yelling to everyone inside. The innkeeper came out, and we had to assure him that the mob was actuated only by curiosity, as soon as the bicycles were over the threshold, the doors were bolted and braced. The crowds swarmed to the windows. While the congee prepared coffee, we sat down to watch the amusing bi-play and repartee going on around us. Those who by virtue of their friendship with the congee were admitted to the room with us began a tirade against the boyish curiosity of their less fortunate brethren on the outside. Their own curiosity assumed tangible shape are our clothing, and even our hair and faces were critically examined. When we attempted to jot down the days of events in our notebooks, they crowded closer than ever. Our fountain pen was an additional puzzle to them. It was passed around and explained and commented on at length. Our camera was a mysterious black box. Some said it was a telescope about which they had only a vague idea. Others that it was a a box containing our money. But our map of Asiatic Turkey was to them the most curious thing of all. They spread it on the floor and hovered over it, while we pointed to the towns and cities. How could we tell where the places were until we had been there? How did we even know their names? It was wonderful, wonderful. We traced for them our own journey, where we had been and where we were going. And then endeavored to show them how, by starting from our homes and continuing always in an easterly direction, we could at last recharge starting point from the west. They began to grasp the idea around the world. They repeated again and again with a mystified expression. you