Chapter I: Front Matter

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A VAGABOND JOURNEY AROUND THE WORLD

A VAGABOND JOURNEY AROUND THE WORLD

A Narrative of Personal Experience

by

HARRY A. FRANCK

Illustrated with More Than One Hundred Photographs

_Pour connaître les véritables moeurs d’un pays il
faut descendre dans d’autres états; car celles des
riches sont presque partout les mêmes._

JEAN JACQUES ROUSSEAU.

New York The Century Co. 1910

Copyright, 1910, by The Century Co.

Published, March, 1910

TO MY ALMA MATER
THE UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
WITHOUT WHOSE TRAINING
THIS UNDERTAKING HAD BEEN IMPOSSIBLE

------------------------------------------------------------------------

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I. PRELIMINARY RAMBLES 3

II. ON THE ROAD IN FRANCE AND SWITZERLAND 26

III. TRAMPING IN ITALY 43

IV. THE BORDERS OF THE MEDITERRANEAN 64

V. A “BEACHCOMBER” IN MARSEILLES 83

VI. THE ARAB WORLD 103

VII. THE CITIES OF OLD 131

VIII. THE WILDS OF PALESTINE 167

IX. THE LOAFER’S PARADISE 188

X. THE LAND OF THE NILE 215

XI. STEALING A MARCH ON THE FAR EAST 237

XII. THE REALMS OF GAUTAMA 251

XIII. SAWDUST AND TINSEL IN THE ORIENT 272

XIV. THREE HOBOES IN INDIA 289

XV. THE WAYS OF THE HINDU 309

XVI. THE HEART OF INDIA 327

XVII. BEYOND THE GANGES 354

XVIII. THE LAND OF PAGODAS 378

XIX. ON FOOT ACROSS THE MALAY PENINSULA 410

XX. THE JUNGLES OF SIAM 444

XXI. WANDERINGS IN JAPAN 462

XXII. HOMEWARD BOUND 483

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Harry A. Franck _Frontispiece_

FACING PAGE

A boss cattleman of the Walkerville barns who has
crossed the Atlantic scores of times 6

Upon arrival in Montreal I put up at the “Stock Yards
Hotel” and get a preliminary hair-cut in anticipation 6

Women laborers in the linen-mills of Belfast, Ireland 11

S. S. _Sardinian_. “Lamps does a bit of painting above
the temporary cattle-pens” 11

A baker’s cart of Holland on the morning round 18

A public laundry on the Rhine at Mainz, Germany 18

Canal-boats laden with lumber from Nièvre entering Paris 31

“They are excellently built, the Routes Nationales of
France” 31

A typical French roadster who has tramped the highways
of Europe for thirty years 34

The two French miners with whom I tramped in France.
Notice shoe-laces carried for sale 34

A Venetian pauper on the Rialto bridge 55

My gondolier on the Grand Canal 55

Going for the water. A village north of Rome 58

Italy is one of the most cruelly priest-ridden countries
on the globe 58

Selling the famous long-horned cattle of Siena outside
the walls 66

Italian peasants returning from market-day in the
communal village 66

A factory of red roof-tiles near Naples. The girl works
from daylight to dark for sixteen cents 76

Italian peasants returning from the vineyards to the
village 76

My entrance into Paris in the corduroy garb and with the
usual amount of baggage of the first months of the
trip 94

“Tony of the Belt” 94

As I appeared during my tramp in Asia Minor. A picture
taken by Abdul Razac Bundak, bumboat-man of Beirut 114

The lonely, Bedouin-infected road over the Lebanon. “Few
corners of the globe offer more utter solitude than
Syria and Palestine” 127

The Palestine beast of burden loaded with stone 127

Damascus. “The street called Straight—which isn’t” 133

A wood-turner of Damascus. He watches the ever-passing
throng, turning the stick with a bow and a loose
string, and holding the chisel with his toes 133

The most thickly settled portion of Damascus is the
graveyard. A picture taken at risk of mobbing 140

Women of Bethlehem going to the Church of the Nativity 140

Tyre is now a miserable village connected with the
mainland by a wind-blown neck of sand 149

Agriculture in Palestine. There is not an ounce of iron
about the plow 149

On the road between Haifa and Nazareth I meet a
road-repair gang, all women but the boss 156

On the summit of Jebel es Sihk, back of Nazareth. From
left to right: Shukry Nasr, teacher; Elias Awad, cook;
and Nehmé Simán, teacher; my hosts in Nazareth 156

The shopkeeper and the traveling salesman with whom I
spent two nights and a day on the lonely road to
Jerusalem. Arabs are very sensitive to cold, except on
their feet and ankles 176

A high official of Mohammedanism. It being against the
teachings of the Koran to have one’s picture taken,
master and servant turn away their faces 176

The view of Jerusalem from my window in the Jewish hotel 183

Sellers of oranges and bread in Jerusalem. Notice
Standard Oil can 183

The Palestine beast of burden carrying an iron beam to a
building in construction 186

Jews of Jerusalem in typical costume 186

A winged dahabiyeh of the Nile 190

Sais or carriage runners of Cairo, clearing the streets
for their master 190

An Arab gardener on the estate of the American consul of
Cairo, for whom I worked two weeks 197

Otto Pia, the German beggar-letter writer of Cairo 197

An Arab café in Old Cairo 200

An abandoned mosque outside the walls of Cairo, and a
caravan off for Suez across the desert 204

Spinners in the sun outside the walls of Cairo 211

Guests of the Asile Rudolph, Cairo. François, champion
beggar, in the center, in the cape he wore as part of
his “system” 211

An Arab market-day at the village of Gizeh 215

A woman of Alexandria, Egypt, carrying two bushels of
oranges. Even barefooted market-women wear the veil
required by the Koran 216

On the top of the largest pyramid. From the ground it
looks as sharply pointed as the others 216

“Along the way shadoofs were ceaselessly dipping up the
water that gives life to the fields of Egypt” 218

The “Tombs of the Kings” from the top of the Libyan
range, to which I climbed above the plain of Thebes 218

A water-carrier of Luxor. A goatskin full costs one cent 222

The main entrance to the ruins of Karnak 226

The Egyptian fellah dwells in a hut of reeds and mud 231

Arab passengers on the Nile steamer. Except for their
prayers, they scarcely move once a day 234

The Greek patriarch whose secretary I became—temporarily 234

S. S. _Worcestershire_ of the Bibby Line, on which I
stowed away after taking this picture 239

Oriental travelers at Port Saïd 239

An outrigger canoe and an outdoor laundry in Colombo,
Ceylon 252

Road-repairers of Ceylon. Highway between Colombo and
Kandy 252

Singhalese ladies wear only a skirt and a short waist,
between which several inches of brown skin are visible 263

A Singhalese woman rarely misses an opportunity to give
her children a bath 263

The woman who sold me the bananas 264

The thatch roof at the roadside, under which I slept on
the second night of my tramp to Kandy 264

Singhalese infants are very sturdy during the first
years 266

The yogi who ate twenty-eight of the bananas at a
sitting 266

Central Ceylon. Making roof-tiles. The sun is the only
kiln 268

The priests of the “Temple of the Tooth” in Kandy, who
were my guides during my stay in the city 268

The rickshaw men of Colombo 274

American wanderers who slept in the Gordon Gardens of
Colombo. Left to right: Arnold, ex-New York ward
heeler; myself; “Dick Haywood”; an English lad; and
Marten of Tacoma, Washington 274

The trick elephant of Fitzgerald’s circus and a
high-caste Singhalese with circle-comb 287

John Askins, M.A., who had been “on the road” in the
Orient twenty years 287

A Hindu of Madras with caste-mark, of cow-dung and
coloring-matter, on his forehead 295

Hindus of all castes now travel by train 298

“Haywood” snaps me as I am getting a shave in
Trichinopoly 298

The Hindu affects many strange coiffures. Natives of
Madras 305

A Hindu basket-weaver of Madras 305

The great road of Puri, over which the massive
Juggernaut car is drawn once a year 320

The main entrance to Juggernaut’s temple in Puri. I was
mobbed for stepping on the flagging around the column 322

“Suttee” having been forbidden by their English rulers,
Hindu widows must now shave their heads, dress in
white, and gain their livelihood as best they can 324

A seller of the wood with which the bodies of Hindus are
burned on the banks of the Ganges. Very despised caste 324

Bankipur’s chief object of interest is a vast granary
built in the time of the American Revolution to keep
grain for times of famine. From its top the traveler
catches his first glimpse of the Ganges 338

Women of Delhi near gate forced during the Sepoy
rebellion. One carries water in a Standard Oil can,
another a basket of dung-cakes 338

One of the many flights of steps leading down to the
bathing-ghats and funeral pyres of Benares 341

The Taj Mahal, Agra, India 348

A market-day in Delhi, India. Many castes of Hindus and
Mohammedans are represented 351

The Hindu street-sprinkler does not lay much dust 351

A lady of quality of Delhi out for a drive 352

Hindu women drinking cocoanut-milk 352

Bungalows along the way in rural Burma 380

Women of the Malay Peninsula wear nothing above the
waist-line and not much below it 380

A Laos carrier crossing the stream that separates Burma
from Siam 433

The sort of jungle through which we cut our way for
three weeks. Gerald James, my Australian companion, in
the foreground 440

“An elephant, with a mahout dozing on his head, was
advancing toward us” 448

Myself after four days in the jungle, and the Siamese
soldiers with whom we fell in now and then between
Myáwadi and Rehang. I had sold my helmet 448

Bangkok is a city of many canals 450

A swimming-school of Japan, teachers on the bank,
novices near the shore, and advanced students, in
white head-dress, well out in the pool 464

Women do most of the work in the rice-fields of Japan 464

Horses are rare in Japan. Men and baggage are drawn by
coolies 467

Japanese children playing in the streets of Kioto 467

A Japanese lady 472

Japanese canal-boats and coolies of Kioto 478

The castle of Nagoya, in which many Russian prisoners
were kept 480

Laying out fish to dry along the river in Tokio. Japan
lives principally on fish and rice 480

An employee of the Tokio-Yokohama interurban, and some
street urchins 483

Fishermen along the bay on my tramp from Tokio to
Yokohama 483

The Russian consulate of Yokohama, in which we
“beachcombers” slept 488

Japanese types in a temple inclosure 488

A Yokohama street decorated for the Taft party. The
display is entirely private and shows the general good
will of the Japanese toward the United States 494

A FOREWORD OF EXPLANATION

Some years ago, while still an undergraduate, I chanced to be present at an informal gathering in which the conversation turned to confessions of respective aspirations.

“If only I had a few thousands,” sighed a senior, “I’d make a trip around the world.”

“Modest ambition!” retorted a junior, “But you’d better file it away for future reference, till you have made the money.”

“With all due respect to bank accounts,” I observed, “I believe a man with a bit of energy and good health could start _without_ money and make a journey around the globe.”

Laughter assailed the suggestion; yet as time rolled on I found myself often musing over that hastily conceived notion. Travel for pleasure has ever been considered a special privilege of the wealthy. That a man without ample funds should turn tourist seems to his fellow-beings an action little less reprehensible than an attempt to finance a corporation on worthless paper. He who would see the world, and has not been provided the means thereto by a considerate ancestor, should sit close at home until his life work is done, his fortune made. Then let him travel; when his eyes have grown too dim to catch the beauty of a distant landscape, when struggle and experience have rendered him blasé and unimpressionable.

A spirit of rebellion against this traditional notion suggested a problem worthy of investigation. What would befall the man who set out to girdle the globe as the farmer’s boy sets out to seek his fortune in the neighboring city; on the alert for every opportunity, yet scornful of the fact that every foot of the way has not been paved before him? There were, of course, other motives than mere curiosity to urge me to undertake such an expedition. As a vocation I had chosen the teaching of modern languages; foreign travel promised to add to my professional preparation. Were I permitted an avocation it would be the study of social conditions; what surer way of gaining vital knowledge of modern society than to live and work among the world’s workmen in every clime? In the final reckoning, too, an inherent Wanderlust, to which, as an American, I lay no claim as a unique characteristic, was certainly not without its influence.

It was not until a year after my graduation that opportunity and my plans were ripe. I resolved to take a “year off,” to wander through as much of the world as possible, and to return to my desk in the autumn, fifteen months later. As to my equipment for such a venture: I spoke French and German readily, Spanish and Italian with some fluency; I had “worked my way” on shorter journeys, had earned wages at a dozen varieties of manual labor in my own country, and had crossed the Atlantic once as a cattle man and once before the mast. It was my original intention to attempt the journey without money, without weapons, and without carrying baggage or supplies; to depend both for protection and the necessities of life on personal endeavor and the native resources of each locality. That plan I altered in one particular. I decided to carry a kodak; and to obviate the necessity of earning en route what I might choose to squander in photography, I set out with a sum that seemed sufficient to cover that extraneous expense; to be exact: with one hundred and four dollars. As was to be expected, I spent this reserve fund early, in those countries of northern Europe in which I had not planned an extensive stay. But the conditions of the self-imposed test were not thereby materially altered; for before the journey ended I had spent in photography, from my earnings, more than the original amount,—to be exact again: one hundred and thirteen dollars.

The chief object of investigation being the masses, I made no attempt during the journey to rise above the estate of the common laborer. My plan included no fixed itinerary. The details of route I left to chance and the exigencies of circumstances. Yet this random wandering brought me to as many famous spots as any victim of a “personally conducted tour” could demand; and in addition, to many corners unknown to the regular tourist. These latter it is that I have accentuated, passing lightly over well-known scenes. It is easy and, alas, too often customary for travelers to weave fanciful tales. But a story of personal observation of social conditions can be of value only in so far as it adheres to the truth of actual experience. I have, therefore, told the facts in every particular, denying myself the privilege even of altering unimportant details to render more dramatic many a somewhat prosaic incident. The names of places, institutions, and persons appearing in the text are in every case authentic; the illustrations are chosen entirely from the photographs I took during the journey.

The question that aroused my curiosity has been answered. A man _can_ girdle the globe without money, weapons, or baggage. It is in the hope that the experiences and observations of such a journey may be of interest to fireside travelers that I offer the following account of my Wanderjahr.

The author wishes to acknowledge the courtesy of _Harper’s Weekly_,
_Outing_ and _The Century Magazine_ in permitting him to republish
from their pages certain chapters of this book.

A VAGABOND JOURNEY AROUND THE WORLD