Listen to Episode Eight Part 1 here: Apple Podcasts and Spotify

Listen to Episode Eleven here:

Apple Podcasts and Spotify

January 20th-26th: Both women rush closer to the finish line. Liz heads west on her tumultuous ride across the Atlantic while Nellie moves east on high speed trains across the country. And after months of calculation, there is finally a winner to this race.

Credits

Narrated by Adrien Behn

Reporter and Race Organizer was played by Nick Markovitz

Reporter and photographer was played by Sam Dingman

Father Time was played by Jake Dingman  

Resources

80 Days by Mathew Goodman

Around the World in 72 Days: The Race Between Pulitzer's Nellie Bly and Cosmopolitan's Elizabeth Bisland by Jason Marks

A Race Around the World: The True Story of Nellie Bly and Elizabeth Bisland by Caroline Starr Rose (Author), Alexandra Bye (Illustrator)

Newspapers.com

Boston Marathon

The Real Story of Katherine Switzer’s 1967 Boston Marathon Race, Katherineswitzer.com

Katherine Switzer, Wikipedia

History of the Boston Marathon, BAA.org

Sounds

Freesounds.org 

Soundstripe.com 

Epidemic sounds 

Blue Dot Sessions

Transcript

On a chilly April day in Boston, a woman laces up her running shoes. She feels how soft her gray sweatshirt and joggers are. Soon they will be damped with her sweat. She can't wait to be back home and warm, but she has a race to complete. First she feels the brisk hair on the back of her neck, right where her bob ends. There's a chill in the air, the kind that crisps up before a snowfall. Still, she feels the atmosphere is pregnant with hope and possibility. She's about to run the Boston Marathon. Beside her is her boyfriend, who's an American football player, and next to him is her running coach. The three of them shuffle along Hopkins State Park, filled with other runners in similar gray sweatsuits, all stretching and warming up before the 26.2 mile span ahead of them. Number 261 is proudly clamped onto her chest. It's been pinned to her sweatshirt since she got in the car and drove for four hours to get to Boston. This is her first real race with others, and she can't wait to finish it. 

As they line up her boyfriend, her right, her coach to her left. She looks around at the hundreds of men around her and they're off. With her coach to her left and her boyfriend to her right, she runs toe to toe with them for miles. All of the other male runners are speeding up or slowing down, but she is keeping pace. She begins to make her own heat on this cold springing day. Then the press truck rolls by. Within it are photographers and organizers of the race. A photographer takes notice of Katherine and points her out to others and he keeps clicking. It is a rare - until one of the organizer's heads snaps to attention. At the mention of a woman in the race, the organizer jumps off the trunk and runs over to Katherine. Suddenly the race has turned into a chase like a lion hunting a gazelle. Sprinting in his pressed sport coat and slacks, the organizer grabs at her reaching his arms out to try to snag some of her long bob bouncing in the wind. Her femininity mocks him. He screams at her, 

“get the hell outta my race and gimme those numbers” 

Then he is tackled by Katherine's boyfriend. The coach pivots and is right behind the boyfriend. Katherine keeps running.

Although she is at her target pace, her heart manages to beat faster. Eventually her boyfriend and coach catch up to her. The reporters in the press truck yells down at Catherine, 

“are you a suffragette or are you a crusader?”

And she thinks to herself, I'm just trying to go for a run. Her coach asks if she wants to stop. She turns to her coach and declares that she has to finish this race. She started the race for herself, but if she doesn't finish it, it will make all women look bad. People will believe that women can't do it, that women aren't strong enough and that they don't deserve to be here. 

Four hours and 20 minutes later, Katherine finishes the race. Katherine Switzer was an unintentional pioneer for women. She didn't race for the feminist movement in the sixties. She ran because she wanted to and believed that no one should not let their identity get in the way of living the life they want. The 1960s were still a time where people didn't believe that women could take on basic activities, but women throughout history have turned around and said, here I am and watch me. And only 80 years before Katherine, two women were also trying to finish a race of their own and didn't want anyone to get in their way. 

(06:21)

As the Oceanic steamship tugs along the Pacific, everyone in America starts to scramble. Readers gobbled up every word written about Nelly, and reporters started to hop on trains to see Nellie arrive at specific stations on her journey across America. The bets got higher and the excitement is beginning to boil. Nelly's little blue dot beeps out on the eastern edge of the Pacific hauling itself towards land again. 

Nellie Bly Heads to San Francisco

Finally, after 12 days at sea, on Day 68 on the morning of January 21st, the ship spots bits of broken blue and green land from a distance. Through all the rocking and the rain and the worry from the storm, the Oceanic still managed to arrive a day earlier than anticipated by the official schedule. Nelly nearly exploded with joy when she heard the news about their arrival.

“Yes, a day early.”

Nellie starts to feel what we all feel when our ride reaches its destination. The moment we feel the engines slow, suddenly we cannot get off this ride fast enough. “ Get me off this boat!” Impatience lept into Nellie’s throat. And up until now, overall luck has been on Nelly's side. She has not missed a single connection and every delay has been made up by the speed of another ship. Her 75 day cut off is inching closer the way the Oceanic is inching towards land. Now there is no margin for error, which is exactly when Murphy's law kicks in.

As the ship pulls into the harbor, a tugboat pulls up and a number of officials come onto the ship. For long trips like theirs, the ship has to be inspected for any signs of illness or disease. So Nellie has to stay on the boat until every...single...passenger must go through the quarantine inspection. These officials also bring on newspapers to catch people up over their fortnight at sea. 

And the biggest news was plastered on the front pages. Nellie discovered that she is the second biggest news on the front page...next to...

“A white welcome Nelly Bly will see more snow than she's ever saw before. and a blizzard in the Pacific Northwest.”

What?!

The excitement of Nelly Bly returning home was blown over by the blizzard that pulverized the Pacific and shut down all railroad traffic in the west for the week. It affected every single one of the stops that Nellie is expected to stop at on the northern route from San Francisco to New York. Nellie's anxiety doubles. She grabs a paper, her eyes flicked back and forth. Furiously, 

“I felt a fevers excitement and many were speculating as to whether there would be a snow blockade to hinder my trip across the continent. I read of the impassable snow blockade and knew my despair, knew no bounds.”

Whose idea was it to leave in winter? Nellie continues to scour the papers as the quarantine officer checks under each person's tongue one by one as Nelly throws down the newspaper on the ground and puts her head in her hands. She has gotten herself around the world in good time, by herself; she’s refused to buy anything indulgent..with a slight exception and she would love nothing more than a new change of clothes. And this moment felt like the most pressing of them all. She decides to get something to eat as she waits during her private purgatory.

But the world...newspaper had special plans for Nellie. One of the men on the tugboat is a reporter from the San Francisco examiner who Pulitzer assigned to escort Nellie back to New York. Nellie is in the saloon picking at her breakfast, when the reporter came towards her, he had only seen poor sketches of her in the newspapers. 

Are you Miss Nellie Bly. 

Nellie stands up, gives him a weary smile, and shakes his hand. Mr. Lowe looked at the seasoned traveler. Nelly seemed a little fried but like a runner, she seemed to be gathering all of her last courage and energy for the final leg of the race. The reporter tells Nellie that she has special privileges to leave the boat and bypass the quarantine check. 

Truely?! Oh that is great news.

Mr Lowe blinks, and Nellie has all of her items on her and is ready to go. 

He was impressed by how little she had lived off of for these few months. That was until he saw her monkey. Quickly, the reporter, the traveler, and the monkey made their way down to the tugboat.

CALIFORNIA 

Nellie waved farewell to the good friends she left behind. The sea breeze hit her face and she saw Alcatraz looming off the mainland. Although she was still on the opposite side of the country, it strangely smelt like home. There was something so American about the air. Unbeknownst to her, as they sailed along the calm waters, these were the last minutes of quiet she would have for the next few days. As they grew nearer to the shore, Nelly noticed there was a mass of people standing at the pier.

Hmp, Several ships must be leaving today. 

When she stepped off the gang plague, the mass started cheering. They weren't waiting for a ship, they were waiting for her. She had to plug her ears. The cheers were so loud. 

“They are cheering for me? Really???”

Nellie's boat bobs in the harbor and several of the railroad officers rush up to her. Nellie holds out her right hand and one of them gingerly grabs it. She has a quick flash of holding out her hand to the boatman in Port Said. Then officers surround her and turn into bodyguards, one on each side of her and in front and behind. They walk hurriedly as they approach the mass of people. Everyone shouts questions at Nellie, reaching out to touch her and grab a thread of her camel hair dress. The tension the newspapers had been building about Nelly for the past few months began to simmer over. The front officers stuck their arms out and paved the way through hundreds of people trying to get a close look at the woman who is racing around the world. She has no time to register any one person as she is quickly ushered to her waiting train. 

Back to California 

At 9:02 AM on the 21st, cheers from the crowd were almost louder than the train engine itself. The New York world didn't spare her comfort either. Nellie stays in a beautiful car with purple velvet and mahogany wood. As she picked out her seat and sat down by the window, she tilted the monkey cage so her monkey could see the countryside as they passed down through California. Mr. Bazel, a general passenger agent conducting the train asked, 

“what time do you wanna reach New York, Ms. Bly?”

“No later than Saturday evening. never thinking they could get me there at that time.” 

It normally takes (X DAYS). Nevertheless, the conductor shouted back 

“very well, we'll put you there on time.” 

“I rested satisfied that he would keep his word.”

 It wasn't just Nelly and this spunky conductor. There were several other reporters, a telegraph operator, and a stenographer who could send the New York world a message directly, for the newspaper to publish the next day. Everything starts to settle for Nellie: the intensity of her itinerary switched, her landing back in America, and the wild excitement from the crowd. She starts to gather her bearings. 

“Had I known in advance the special train was mine. Every newspaper man and woman who cared should have been my guest. One poor little newspaper woman did not see bed that night, so anxious she was for an interview which she did not get. I was so entirely ignorant of what was to be done with me on landing that I thought I was someone's guest until I was many miles away from San Francisco.”

As the California sun stretched over the great San Joaquin Valley, a level green play, and through which the railroad track ran for possibly 300 miles as straight as the sun beam. 

“The saddest sounds that came to me were the farewells called from Hoboken Pier when I started my trip, and the sweetest sounds were the words of welcome and applause, which greeted my arrival in San Fran. Most of my journey has been by water, and most of that has been very rough. I have traveled nearly 16,000 miles on the seas and I'm a pretty good sailor by this time. Just think of it. I haven't been seasick once.”

Hm 

``I'm delighted to be able to say in this connection that I have enjoyed good health ever since I left New York.” 

Nevertheless, it was now undeniable that after two months, Nelly Bly was a more confident traveler, sailor, eater and writer and is now racing towards her finish line.

As the train approached Merced, the first station, Nellie could see in the distance a large crowd flanking the train platform dressed in their Sunday best. Nelly wondered from her window if everyone was about to embark on a trip. Was it a holiday she forgot about? She looked at her monkey and then the men, and then she listened closely until she realized that the crowd is chanting her name. They are here for her! They wanted to get a glimpse of the world's most famous female traveler. As they reached closer, the crowd overwhelmed the noise of the engine. It was so loud, it scared her more than the pickled head she saw in China. 

“I suppose they were having a picnic and made some mark only to be told in reply that the people had come there to see me. Amazed at this information. I got up an answer to the calls for me and went out on the back platform, a loud cheer, which almost righted me to death, grieved my appearance and the band began to play by Nelly Blis, blue eyes, a large tray of fruit, candy and nuts, and the tribute of a dear little news boy was passing to me for which I was more grateful than had it been the gift of a king.” 

In all of her loneliness around the world. These last few thousand miles. Nelly was to be surrounded by excitement, pride, and joy. 

Nellie turns away, arms filled with gifts and heads back into the train, a massive smile across her face. She looks at her monkey, who is also in awe! And then they pull away and head to the next stop.

“ I enjoyed the rapid motion of the train so much that I dreaded to think of the end.” 

The rapid motion of Americans rushing the train also did not end. 

FRESNO 

There were two months where Nelly had been this anonymous woman with cloudy stories about far away lands, so elusive and whimsical. Now anyone who could was going out of her way to see her in the flesh. She has been the most talked about woman in the entire nation. 

At the next stop, people stormed the vestibule.

“at Fresno. The next station, the town turned out to do me honor, and I was the happy recipient of exquisite fruits, wines, and flowers, all the products of Fresno Country, California. The men who spoke to me were interested in my sunburnt nose, the delays I had experienced and the number of miles I had traveled. The women wanted to examine my one dress in which I had traveled around. The cloak and cap I had worn were anxious to know what was in the bag and all about the monkey.”

 When the train refueled, Nelly stood at the back of the platform car. As it pulled away, she waved her cap to the crowd that quickly got smaller and quieter the faster they pulled away. She watched as men threw up their hats and women raised their handkerchiefs. 

Miles down the road, the landscape begins to dry out. There's more space between trees, beige and red replace green as the train speeds down to the Mojave desert. 

At one station where we stopped, there was a large crowd, and when I appeared on the platform, one yell went up from them. There was one man on the outskirts of the crowd who shouted, 

“Nelly Bly, I must get close to you.”

The commotion centered on the man making his way through the crowd. His right hand raised, shoving women, toddlers, and old men out of the way. It happened too fast for Nelly to gather any fear. 

The crowd eventually felt as much curiosity as I did about the man. for they made way for him to come up to the platform. 

“Nelly Bly, you must touch my hand.” what?

“Anything to please this man.” 

“I reached over and touched his hand. It was sweaty and rough and meaty.” 

“Now you'll be successful. I have in my other hand the left hind foot of a rabbit.”

SOUTH WEST 

The sunset, and the special train rolled on through the night. As she got further away from the snow, the land began to melt into desert, and when Nelly woke up the next morning, she admired the diverse landscape of her own country. How it only took a few hours to change altitudes and climates. Sand stretched out like the pacific ocean. At one point, the conductor beckons Nelly to get behind the throttle of the cab, and they let her drive 31 miles to Flagstaff. She told a reporter, 

“for a new engineer, the master mechanic said I was a rushing Success”

The train whizzes by the long stretches of red and purple messes with minty sage brush clinging to the side, pushing up out of the earth. As she got closer to Flagstaff, the peaks of the San Francisco mountains loomed in the distance. Nelly had seen more than all the men on that train would see in their lives combined. 
As she paused in Flagstaff, she signed anything people handed her, napkins, socks, babies heads, As a big brass band played her off. 

New Mexico and the bridge 

Around 4:00 PM on the 22nd, the train crossed into New Mexico. For hours, Nelly and her companions had seen nothing but beige and red. As they moved ahead, miles away from them is a group of railroad workers fixing an unstable bridge held together by jack screws. 

The bridge covered a large and deep ravine. If anyone fell down it, it was certain death. Given the quick orders of the special train. These railroad workers had no idea that Nellie Bly's train had been arranged to pass over that bridge and was quickly approaching. ( TRAIN NOISE IN THE DISTANCE) The workers paused their hammering. They looked at each other and then up where the sound had come from. Then one of them notices a small puff of smoke rising in the distance and is getting closer to them. The tracks began to tremble. (whistle gets louder) All the men's heads turned, paused, and quickly jumped into action. They scrambled to collect all of their tools and items. Once the train was in view, charging at them, the workers jumped up and down to wave down this train coming at full speed, but with all their jumping and shouting, it was too late. The train conductor blindly passed the workers- thinking they were cheering for Nellie- drove the train straight towards the unstable bridge. The train's front wheels hit the front of the bridge and the workers hold their breath. 

They closed their eyes and some started to tear up, not knowing how many funerals will soon be in attendance. They wait to hear the crashes and screams. Seconds go by...And hear nothing. Other than the sound of the train driving away from them. It left as fast as it arrived. The workers watched as the puff of smoke got smaller and smaller and farther away from them.  

 “flying home the world's earth. Circular is nearly halfway across the continent. GX as an engineer, wild ride in the cab.”  

Of course, to everyone on the train, they had simply crossed over a bridge. It wasn't until they read the news about the instability of the bridge that Nelly thought back to grabbing the man's hand with the lucky rabbit foot. 

“Well I don't know anything about the left hind off of a rabbit, but when I knew that my train had run safely across a bridge which was held in place only by jack screws. And which fell the moment we were When I heard that in another place the engine had just switched off from us. When it lost a wheel, then I thought of the left foot of a rabbit and wondered if there was anything in it.”

“I've had many narrow escapes and no closer call than on my lightning trip across the continent when the railroad bridge fell 

It didn’t. After a while, the towns start to blur together and the crowds continued to gather. 

“While reaching for my hand was swept with the crowds, I shook hands with both of my hands at every station and when the train pulled out, crowds would run after grabbing for my hands as long as they could. My arms ached for almost months afterwards, but I did not mind the ache. If by such little acts I could give pleasure to my own people, whom I so gladly to be among them once more.”

As Nellie Bly crosses our homeland, A fever swept the nation that wasn't typhoid.

Midwest 

guess early and often. 

January 23rd, day 70, as Nellie fades out of the desert sandstone and enters the great plains, the world printed the final ticket for Nelly Blis guessing match.

As Nellie continues to head east, she loses time. All of the stops and crowds and cheers blended together like the view from her window as she wished past on her high speed train. Now firmly in the center of the country and winter, the crowds continued to gather at each passing station. No matter how cold or dark it became, the closer Nellie got to her destination, the larger the crowd. In Kansas, a man shouted out to her, come out here and will elect you Governor! and 

“I believe they would have done it if the splendid welcomes they gave me are any criterion.”

 No matter what town, people were officially going off the rails. The celebrations didn't just happen at the train stops in between. Nellie received telegrams of all kinds. They were addressed to Nellie Bly’s train and came from all parts of the country, 

“filled with words of cheer and praise at all hours of the day and night. I could not mention one place that was kinder than the other.” 

They fully enjoyed this once in a lifetime moment, All of this attention must have broken Nellie’s brain a little bit. on the days where she felt so alone out in the vastness of the world, she had no idea. A whole nation was cheering her on put away to be welcomed home. As Nellie crossed America, a nationalistic pride waved its flag high. In a world that told women to pause, Nelly Blie was not to be slowed down. The only moment Nellie soured was when reporters asked about the other woman 

“looking up her plans, and I care very little about it. The idea of taking this trip was entirely my own. I suppose the editor of the Cosmopolitan thought he could get some good advertising by taking advantage of the world's enterprise, but I don't think they'll be able to steal all of the thunder.”

And another thing, Nellie kind of went to bed on the 21st day of her race, still thousands of miles away from New York. Yet at every stop through the Midwest, Halston, Newton, Florence, Emporia engines were changed quickly and messages were sent to clear the path of slower trains. The beige Midwest landscape whizzed by her as the train thundered towards Chicago. At 4:00 AM the morning of the 24th, Nelly tried to get some sleep after an endless day of interviews and shaking hands, a female journalist from Nebraska named Miss m, a kid you not Miss Muffet, the one who sat on her tuffet, traveled 600 miles to meet up with Nellie. 

Chicago 

She arrived in Chicago at 7:05 AM on Friday, January 24th. Oh my God, Chicago is so close to New York. During the times where New York felt a world away, it is almost unfathomable that the end was near. 

“I probably slept two hours when the Porter called me saying that we would soon be in Chicago. I dressed myself leisurely and drank the last drop of coffee there was left on our train for we had been liberally entertaining everyone who cared to travel any distance with us. I was surprised upon opening the door of my state room to see the car was quite filled with good looking men.”

 She fixes her bangs, pinches her cheeks, puts on her flirty eyes. The men that occupied her train were part of the Chicago Press Club. 

“Mr. Conius Gardner, the vice president of the club is in the absence of the president, took charge of our little party before we were in, I had answered all their questions and we joked about my sunburnt and discussed the merits of my one dress, the cleverness of the monkey, and I was feeling happy and at home wishing I could stay all day in Chicago.”

Within moments of her arrival, Nellie charmed the pants off of the local press club, in a metaphorical way. As she stepped out onto the train platform, Nellie felt that familiar winter chill of the East coast. She was taken to the press club and personally welcomed by the president. Nelly had this feeling that she only let herself feel in Japan, a desire to stay longer. Her anxiety had been cut in half by the speed of the railroad and the power of Pulitzer's pockets. Nellie had breakfast with the chicago press club. Over a hearty American breakfast, she regaled her travels to the men in the press club, and she joked that her black and white coat was loud enough to leave an echo behind her. Once breakfast was done, she was then taken to the Chicago Board of Trade. They bring her to the upper level, where seh can lean over a railing the way she had done over many ships, to look out at the school of men swimming around below her trading stocks and estimating the economy. They all paced around until one of them looked up and saw a woman staring down below at them. 

“Just as we got there, a man raised his arm to yell something to the warring crowd. When he saw me and yelled instead, there is Nelly Bly! In one instant, the crowd that had been yelling like mad became so silent that a pin could have been heard falling to the floor. Every face bright and eager was turned up towards us. Instantly, every hat came off and then a burst of applause resounded through the immense hall. People can say what they please about Chicago. I do not believe that anywhere else in the US a woman can get a greeting, which will equal that given by the Chicago Board of Trade.”

As the room screamed from below, Nellie just bowed her head and waved her hand. Her presence caused such a ruckus, she had to be escorted out of the building by members of the press club who got her back to Union Station. Here she was to hop on the Pennsylvania railroad train for the last leg of her journey. 

Oh my home state! 

During the three and a half hours she spent in Chicago, the word spread faster than a telegram and everyone wanted to see her before she left. Off every street she passed, people poured out of their offices, homes, and appointments to watch her go by. Women trying on shoes ran out in unpaid mismatched merchandise. Men getting their beards trimmed ran out in their smock with half a mustache cut and shaving cream on the other side of their faces and their barber right behind them. Everyone crashes into each other as Nellie pass them by. There goes the woman who went around the world! Pedestrians screamed her name and asked for autographs and handshakes. As she is whisked away back to the train station, all of the good men from the chicago press club escort her to her train and Nellie reluctantly says goodbye to all of them as she boards her final training home.

Illinois to Pennsylvania 

Only after three hours in the windy city, The Atlantic Express number 20 departed at 10: 30 in the morning. On January 24th, Nellie train is filled with flowers, just like the jungles of Penang. She sat in a red and gold temple chair from Hong Kong hanging beside it was a mandolin from the Prince of Yokohama. The trains seemed to have some kind of token from each place She had trapezed through. Now, leaving Chicago, after 71 days of travel, ten countries and three oceans, she is only a train right away. Through Indiana and Ohio, the closer she got to New York, the larger the crowd and the more animated they became. 

As they reached closer to New York and nightfall. After the sun fell, they passed Newark, Denison, and Stephenville pausing for a few moments to change engines and then carry off into the edge of Appalachia country. Even then, small crowds showed up in the dead of night to watch the two lines of fire ride behind Nellie’s train. She tries to get some shuteye. Her feeling of time was very warped. Chicago already felt like a lifetime behind her. And the idea of the Suez Canal was a mental mirage. God did that even happen. She wanted to rest so she could be fresh for her old home of Pittsburgh in a few short hours.  

At 3:10 am, the train pulls into Pittsburgh. Nellie wakes up just as they arrive, dons her coat, and walks the edge of the platform and is greeted by a smaller but much more sentimental crowd. Gathered on the platform are familiar faces. The first ones she has recognized in over 70 days. Relatives, old coworkers, and friends. 

Out of the thousands of people who had come to see her go by, this group brought her to tears. Nellie gives a loud cry out of joy, and she sees her breath puff out in front of her. Everyone cheers for her, tears frozen to their cheeks, as everyone tries to clasp her hand, kiss her forehead, and give her a hug. Everyone had been reading the news and cheering her on as she circumnavigated the globe. And here she is in the flesh, jumped off the page of a newspaper and is standing here before them. 

An employee of the Pittsburgh press comes up to her and opens a velvet box. Inside it is a silver press badge gleams back at her. Nellie looks up at the man and beams at him as a single tear runs down her right cheek. He gets closer to her, and her heart pounded so loudly she was afraid the man would feel it beating as he pinned the press badge over above her left breast on her famous dress she has been wearing for 71 days. Out of all the places she visited, it is here in her home city where she really sees how far she has come from that small town storyteller girl to a globe trotting journalist. As Nellie bly is warmed in the cold pittsburgh night by her friends and loved ones, warmth is the last thing Elizabeth Bisland is feeling. 

Nellie Philly 

At 1:24 PM on January 24th, Nelly looks up to see 5,000 people waiting for her at Philadelphia's Broad Street Station. The moment the train shuttered to a full stop, workers begin to change the engines, and a swarm of people stormed the train platform, reminding Nelly of the streets of Canton. Police officers cleared everyone out before a riot broke out. As the crowd cheered, Nelly was busy shaking people's hand and suddenly the crowd parted to let a few people through. A number of Nellie’s fellow coworkers from New York and friends appear out of the crowd. This little crew was to accompany her on her way back home. As Nellie hugs each of these new guests, at the tail end of this entourage is one man holding the arm of an older woman with glasses in a black outfit. They walk towards the front platform of the railroad car that Nelly was staying in. This older woman being helped onto the train, is Nellie’s mother. Smaller than most men, Mary Jane Cotran passed through the carriage of all of the well-dressed men looking for her baby. Then Her eyes finally landed on her daughter. Her motherly brain scans her child for changes. Her daughter is wearing the same blue dress and checkered coat just like the last time she saw her. Only this time the dress is much more worn through, and her daughter is tanner with an undeniable glow about her. 

“Oh, Nelly,” 

she said embracing her daughter for the first time in 72 days. Nelly couldn't believe it. Nellie reaches out and takes her mother in her arms.

“Oh mother, I'm so glad”

The two held each other for what felt like ages, maybe an hour, making up for all the hugs they missed in those 72 days. All of the worry that her mom accumulated over those 72 days melted away while they held each other in each other's arms. Mary Jane has a flashback of pushing Nellie out of her body, dressing her in pink, reading her stories, taking the train to Mexico, and seeing her daughter's new name in the headlines. The little girl she fed from her breast had just accomplished the unimaginable, and the whole nation has gone out of their way to see her daughter pass them by and help her on her journey. Both women’s hearts squeeze but for vastly different reasons. They took a step back and looked at each other. Their vision is a little blurry as light travels through their tears. Whether Nelly consciously recognized it or not, I think everything she did was for her mom. Suddenly everything that Nelly had done between seeing her mom last and this moment sped up in her brain flashes of London jewels, vers house sharks in the water, tropical islands pickle Ted's geishas and the Golden Gate Bridge flashed through her brain at warp speed. Tears streamed down both of their faces because the worst could have happened and it didn't. The world was well behaved when Nellie passed through it. Suddenly, the train staggers out at the station. Nelly, lets go of her mom for a moment to wave goodbye to Philadelphia, a city that showed some real brotherly love to her. The view of everyone cheering for her was blurred because the tears in her eyes got in her way. 

Road to New York

Nellie now has one final stop: New York City. well jersey city will suffice. And when the train started up again, it crossed over into New Jersey. The world orchestrated a whole slew of Nelly's friends and colleagues to join her back in New York. They'd all taken a train down from New York that morning to be with Nelly. Nelly went around and embraced her expanded entourage. Nellie broke up the bouquet and handed them out to everyone. All of the worry that she had been harboring in her body since she last left America vanishes.

Victory filled the train. Nellie's rooms were overflowing with flowers and bottles of champagne. Fruit was fermenting from California. If there was anywhere to be in the world on January 25th 1890, this train car was certainly it. I'm sure Nelly and her whole crew were counting down the stops like it was New Year's, new Brunswick, Broadway. Trenton locals still gathered and waved at train stops where she passed through but didn't halt at. When lunch was served, she could barely drink her champagne or eat.

She sat with her friends and her mom and for once she found it hard to explain what she'd just gone through. For someone who was so well equipped to spin a yarn, she found that it was so hard to summarize the last two months. In her small attempts, it felt like describing a dream. And it dawns on her that what she had just gone through was an incredibly solitary experience. 

All of the people who had come from New York stood up with their champagne and offered her congratulations and gifts. This distracted everyone from the fact that Jersey City was in their sights. Everything Nelly had been racing towards, every country she hurdled over, every question she had about her timing will be over in a few minutes.

As the minutes ticked closer and more miles fell behind her, in her party train, Nelly gets quiet and reflective. She notices the gray sky, the sun blocked by clouds like the fog in London. The depot was right over the horizon. A reporter gathered up everything Nelly wants to be brought back to her apartment as they reached the suburbs of Jersey City. The idea of going back to her apartment is a strange one. She had slept on boats and mail trains and hotel rooms for months. The idea of sleeping and not moving at the same time was as foreign as some of the countries she had just traveled through. 

In the distance, a large swarm of people all dressed in black winter coats gathered at the train station. Where only her closest friends had said goodbye to her, over 10,000 complete strangers impatiently wait to welcome her home. The crowd was held back by wooden blockades. A chaotic hum buzzed around the crowd. You could stick your tongue out and taste the anticipation waiting for the train and its precious Cargo.

Before she knows it, the train conductor jocks the train and Nelly felt the locomotive slow, a feeling she had grown acutely attuned to. A mile before the train station, the conductor pushes on the brakes. The transmission of power slows as it reaches its destination. 

The mayor of Jersey City is standing in the cold, waiting on the platform holding a generous bouquet of flowers. Next to him were the timekeepers, standing together like the three kings. A telegram was sent telling Nelly to walk up to the front of the carriage. As the platform comes into view, Nelly could see the congregation through the tears welling up, up in her eyes. But she holds them back. She spins the ring on her thumb the way the wheels of the train turned and turned, and then the conductor pushes on the brakes. The train stops. Someone slides the carriage door open for her, and she stands in awe. She takes in all of the people standing there to see her the moment she came home. The timekeepers rubbed their thumbs over their clickers. The little girl who made up stories in class, who advocated for women and put her money where her mouth is, took in the sights of all of these humans, her neighbors, her fellow New Yorkers. The cold January Wind finds its way through her dress, a wind she was familiar with. For a moment, everyone holds their breath. Her hands smooth out her camel coat, an icon itself by now and thinks about the camels in Aiden that she got to see with her own eyes and walk up to with her own feet. Nelly is disheveled, sunburnt, arms sore, poorly slept, under fed, over caffeinated, and a little drunk wearing the same dress she left in. But she is 72 days older, 10 countries wiser and so goddamn happy to be home. Her right foot steps down onto the platform and then her left foot follows. In unison, The timekeepers hit their stopwatches. The race around the world was over. The mayor runs up to her and grabs her right arm and lifts it high up in the air. A man in the crowd also lifted up his arm, but waved a handkerchief, and suddenly 10 cannon came from in the harbor near Battery Park and a shot from Brooklyn lasted, came into the tugboats stair, pulled on their whistle. It sounded like a war started. No one could hear anything. Birds flew away in fear. People jumped up and down throwing their hats in the air, hugging and kissing each other. One woman goes into labor, okay, I'm going to that part, but who knows. The crowd and celebrations might have caused a seismic earthquake. One reporter wrote,

 no chief did. Returning from a tour of conquest ever received a more royal welcome. 

After the scare of the cannons finished, the mayor bowed and handed Nelly the flowers. 

“I took my cap off and wanted to yell with the crowd, but not because I had gone around the world in 72 days, but because I was home again,”

 The official time was 3: 51 and 44 seconds. Elizabeth Jane Cotran, Pink, Nelly Bly is officially the woman who broke a world record for going around the world. She completed her trip in 72 days, six hours, 11 minutes, and 14 seconds. She made the 24,901 miles relatively unscathed. Nelly could have turned her back and done a trust fall into the crowd and let them absorb and devour her. She felt so complete. After a few minutes of ruckus and of Nelly waving to people and getting hugs from her entourage, the mayor tried to quiet the crowd. He spoke from his diaphragm, took a breath and shouted. Nelly is speechless. After so much time, she still has no idea what to say. But one thing is for sure, Father time had been outdone by a woman.

Liz’s Return

As the confetti, glitter and champagne settled from Nelly's victory, The lumbering Bothena sluggishly crawled into the New York harbor on Thursday, January 30th. 

Liz felt a swell of pride and nostalgia, glee and relief. For a few moments, by the time the ship neared Brooklyn, Liz was nearly frost bitten, cold, damp and out of bobby pins. She was far from the polished, refined southern bell she was when she left. Liz learned the hard way that real travel is far from glamorous. After a (week) of being at sea, through the winter's fog, Liz suddenly spots Coney Island, the last broken strip of Brooklyn. 

“The water has smoothed itself into a bay and a huge gray woman ,holding an uplifted torch. Awaits our coming. The immigrants regard her wonderingly, the symbol of liberty held aloft. Suddenly, a great flood of familiarity washes away the memory of the strange lands and people I have seen and blots out all the senses of time that have elapsed since I last saw all of this. I somehow know everything, the streets, the houses, the passersby are looking at this moment as if I had turned away my head for an instant and now look back again. My duties and my interests, which had grown dim and shadowy in these last two months, take on shape outlines and become alive and real once more. I feel as if I have but sailed down the bay for an hour and was not returning.”

Liz is jolted with the feeling of having taken a long nap. It's as if you never really left. Her body is the same, but her mind is so different. Liz is sad the journey was over, but was relieved to finally be home. The Bothena entered the New York Harbor at 1:30 PM at Pier 40 and crossed into New York territory at 10:10 AM. There were no official timekeepers to welcome her because there were none there when she left. Liz's flying trip around the world lasted 76 days, 16 hours and 10 minutes. Nelly beat her by four days, but Elizabeth Bisland still went around the world in under 80 days. Liz did get a little bit of fanfare, hundreds of people congregated to see her back and accept second place. When she walked down the gangplank, her sister Molly is waiting for her and Elizabeth gasps and falls into her sister’s arms. Liz had a feeling that the other woman won, but it wasn't until her sister told her. 

Molly said through her tears, “she has beaten you, but you did well.” 

Liz is a little bummed even though she knew it wasn't her idea, but feels the sadness that comes over a surrogate mother. “Ah oh well...” The wild goose chase is complete. Molly then escorted her into her carriage and they rushed back to her apartment where I'm sure Liz laid down for days. Delightfully her apartment was filled with flowers. But once the sting of losing wore off and her body finally felt warm and stable again, Liz thinks back on her trip and relishes in the feeling she had in Aden, it is well to have thus once really lived. At some point, she discovers that she had been intentionally misdirected In France. 

“It is not until reaching America that I discovered this is a mistake and the trans-Atlantic waited several hours. This change subjected me to inconvenience and to suffering from the effects of which took much time to entirely recover. The cause of this false information was never satisfactorily ascertained, however, succeeded in lengthening the voyage four days.”

But she is back home in one piece with thousands of new stories to tell at her salons. 

On the day they returned, both women fell back into their beds that they had left over two months ago. Then a new feeling creeps into their bedrooms. The adrenaline rushes over and now back to your life, which feels like a strange dream. Back to their routines, their publishing schedules. Soon, their trunks and grip sacks collect dust as they move on with their lives but forever altered. 

For the rest of their lives, on any sad or rainy day, both women can cheer themselves up with memories of their once wild adventure. 

They both made history. Before we put a man on the moon, we sent two women around the world.

Listen to Episode Ten here:

Apple Podcasts and Spotify

January 15th-19th: Elizabeth Bisland travels through Europe to try to catch the fastest steamship to get her back to New York in under 80 days. But every steamship bails in the last minute; she gets confusing information, and is stuck in a thunderstorm of all storms as she grasps for her last bits of sanity and good temper.

Credits

Narrated by Adrien Behn

Mysterious French Man: Emanuel Poche

Father Time was played by Jake Dingman  

Resources

80 Days by Mathew Goodman

Around the World in 72 Days: The Race Between Pulitzer's Nellie Bly and Cosmopolitan's Elizabeth Bisland by Jason Marks

A Race Around the World: The True Story of Nellie Bly and Elizabeth Bisland by Caroline Starr Rose (Author), Alexandra Bye (Illustrator)

Newspapers.com

Water

What do we know about the origin of our oceans? Scientific America

Origin of Water on Earth, Wikipedia

How were the oceans created? American Oceans

Sounds

Freesounds.org 

Soundstripe.com 

Epidemic sounds 

Blue Dot Sessions

Transcript

Intro: Steam

In the beginning, the earth was a feral planet. It was not the marble blue earth we treasure today. Instead was covered in volcanic reds and burnt oranges. Hundreds of volcanoes dotted the terrain and belched out fire and sulfur. The oceans were filled with lava and our atmosphere was toxic. But trapped somewhere deep and close to earth’s iron and nickel core were the ingredients to create the most life sustaining element: water. For thousands of years, it is believed that as volcanoes belched out black steam it released other gasses buried deep inside the earth's core, trapped near the center of the earth since earth’s formation. With the exhale of these gasses, slowly, the molten planet began to cool. And when the gasses turned into clouds, the world began to rain. And it rained. Biblical rains, a rain that marked the beginning of the earth as we know it - a cleansing ceremony. And over those thousands of years of rain, the crusty land hardened and basins filled up. However, scientists suggest that these rains only account for half of the earth’s oceans. The other half came from space. As the earth began to calm down, our solar system was still wild and unruly. The well grooved orbits, carved into our solar system like record tracks, were still finding their footing. Rogue intergalactic rocks from far off corners of our multiverse flung themselves onto earth. Comets caked in ice smashed into earth over and over and over again. A daily reminder that the universe is always within reach. 

These icey layers melted as the comet burned through our stratospheres and rained down into our oceans, slowly filling it up until it hit the limit: 332,519,000 cubic miles of water on the planet. Our oceans seemed to have stopped filling up right at the perfect height for continents to rise out of, followed by life. Once the conditions were right, Single celled organisms huddled around hydrothermal vents deep on the ocean floor and sucked out the mineral rich water, making them strong enough to evolve into whoever slunk out of the ocean first. Although we left the water, the water didn’t leave us. 80% of our body is water. We can’t go more than three days without drinking it. It is more important to our health than kale or crossfit. It's a drink, it's a bath, it's a cloud, it's a tear. Water morphes itself into three distinct shapes. From a dew drop just hitting the morning sun or a cloud in the air floating along, Put some heat under it, and the water chemicals begin to dance and shake like they are at a club. The boiling point transforms liquid into steam. And we small humans eventually learned how to harness its almighty power. Trains and ships exhaled steam as it gobbled up coal. What moves our cells in our body also moves us around the world. Out of all the billions of planets and rocks floating out in the universe, as far as we know, we are the only ones to have water flowing around ours and in the bodies of every life form. But water isn’t always our friend. It has no allegiance to the animals that rely on it. And in 1889, one woman will experience every stage of waters intensity and  rageful ways of mother nature, who has no stake in her little race. 

JBW 

As elizabeth bisland wishes that she didn’t have to rush around the world, there is one man who has been trying to part the seas, ride with the tides, and rack up the pressure. Throughout this whole race, JBW has been bribing,sweet talking, or negotiating with every steamship or train officer to get Liz around the world as fast as possible. He would have negotiated with Neptune himself if given the opportunity. JBW has been shameless. He bribed the steamship leaving San Francisco. He did it again to the officials in charge of the steamer leaving Hong Kong only to be detailed by that tiny screw, JBW has spent a small fortune ensuring that Liz has the fastest trip around the world. And he still had one more big push up his sleeve that could get Liz back in New York in 75 days. The last big connection Liz needed to grab is a steamship called Le Champagne. The steamship is set to leave off of Le Havre, of a little nub of land off of France's north western coast. When she gets on Le Champagne, Liz will arrive in New York on January 26th, getting her back home in X days. JBW is to make sure of that. Now he doesn’t just call the steamship company. He has to call the French government. Because the steamship is carrying tons of mail across the Atlantic and is regulated by the French postal service. But when have governments refused a little extra spending money?

So, JBW is en negociacion with the French government, as Liz is entering the Middle east.

Liz in the Suez [00:13:19] (DAY) 

January 9th. Once they left Aden, Liz starts to feel cold again. During her four days on the Red Sea. The temperature dropped in the Red Sea as she cruised through the tropic of cancer. Everyone on board dawned their furs and avoided the chilly deck. 

Post Port Said [00:15:36}

Once they leave Port said the ship cuts into the Mediterranean, which is cold and choppy. The Aqua Marine waters turn into a deep Navy. Greece was in their sights. Liz returns to her poetic ways. 

“It Here there comes upon one, a sense of historical association in India. Nature is so tremendous. She swallows up all memory of man in Aiden.One remembers only the Bible, but nearing Greece. The past takes shape and meaning, and history begins to have a new vividness and significance. Here man has been Lord of the visible earth and has dominated and adored her. She has been the stage and background against which he played out the tragedies and comedies of humanity.”

Apparently her love of scenery becomes a well-known fact on the ship. One morning at sunrise, the Stewardess taps at Liz's door. She's a little confused. She didn't have to get off the day for another boat or so. 

“The first officer compliments Miss, and will you please get up and look out the scuddle? 

Are we there early? 

I wrap myself in my kimono treasure trove from Japan and thrust my head and shoulders through the wide porthole. Directly before me is Candia an abrupt mountain rising sharply from the sea and crowned with snow. Among them are trailing clouds, looping long scarves of mist from peak to peak at the feet of honors wine drum sea.

She is captured by the spellbinding sights of Greece. As the mango sunrise bleeds into a sharp blue sky, Liz stares out at the landscape and envisions Greek galleys roman triremes fighting vessel from carthage merchant Carthage Merchant and battleships from Venice, Genoa, and Turkey, the fleets of Spain, and then men with English lions etched into their ships. Even at a distance, Greece feels as epic as it is in books as she sails through these historic waters. 

That night, she organizes her luggage for her quick but chaotic ride through Europe. Now, Elizabeth has not been as miserly as Nelly. Anything Liz wanted, she purchased... obviously for the good of the local economy. Liz’s box is overflowing with goods she has purchased over 65 days of travel and seven stops along the way. It is so stuffed and intentionally packed that her and a stewardess had to sit on it in order for it to shut. Otherwise, everything would pop out like a Jack in the Box. So, after the workout she got from packing, she gets heads off to bed so she can be well rested for her long ride through Europe.  

Italy [00:17:50] (DAY ) 

On the afternoon of January 16th, the 65th day of the race, Liz sees the outline of Italy. The air as an early autumnal crispness, she is used to feeling in November in New York. But she doesn’t have time to mosey through the ancient streets of italy. Liz has to catch the train that is leaving within the hour of her arriving in the port city Brindisi. She has to do everything she can to catch Le Champagne, send a telegram, and purchase a few more tickets for her time in Europe.

When they docked, every minute counts. While Liz tries to enjoy the sea breeze, the white city outline, the smell of olives and rosemary, everyone else is pushy, anxious, and irritated. After weeks of lazy, slow ship life suddenly, everyone on board is in a rush to get off. Liz’s fellow passengers push and squeeze and shove people around, thinking they are the most important person who needs to get off immediately. The anxiety is palpable as the tightly packed line waits with their heavy steam trunks for customs officials to inspect and register for their final destination. 

“It is almost impossible to get anything done. The whole ship is in an uproar. Mails on luggage are being disembarked. Many passengers are leaving for a tour through Italy before finally returning to England. Italians with cocked hats and imperial importance of manor are bullying everyone and getting things into a hopeless tangle. My luggage is finally marked as passed, and a porter is hired to transport it.”

Liz hops off as her luggage is taken care of and brought to the mail train. In the few moments she has, she rushes over to a ticket office  and sends her cable to JBW that she has arrived in Italy. Now with a few minutes to spare, she heads to the mail train that goes from south to north, Brindisi up to Northern France, the reverse trip Nellie took. 

She arrives at the train 10 minutes before it's set to depart. She gets on the train and finds her seat. She's so ready to stare out at the italian landscape for hours, but her gut suddenly whispers to her. 

Thought* check your luggage* 

She quickly double checks for her steamer trunk, just in case. She looks around, sifts through all the other heavy steam trunks and can't see hers anywhere. 

Thought* You cannot be serious!* 

Liz’s blood curdles, and she jumps into action. She flings out of the car, rushes back again to the ship and discovers 

“the missing possessions in the hands of an Italian who insists they have not been properly examined and demands the keys various necessity, ”Various necessary additions to my wardrobe 

during the voyage have so enlarged the contents of my little box.”

That’s right all those silks and kimonos ARE NECESSARY.  

Quote: My bag is to transfer to london! It doesn't need to be inspected! I do not have time for this- my train is about to leave! 

But this obstinate customs worker wouldn't hear otherwise. So Liz Begrudgingly had to unpack everything as he sniffed through all of her items like that rat in Singapore.

Everyone else waiting to get their bags checked shoves and moves around with entitlement and impatience. Whatever thoughts Liz had about the situation, she tried to remain level-headed and wipes the bead of sweat running down her forehead. 

“I hope I did not forget the dignity. A gentle woman should preserve under the most trying of circumstances, but I fancy that my tones while low were concentrated.” 

Once the worker went through all of her luggage and was satisfied, Liz shoves everything back in, completely disorganized, and hustles back to the train with the porter, knowing in her heart that her train could have already left. She fumes and darts through the crowd, going against the current of passengers every which way. And then Liz learned an important truth about traveling through Italy. The term on time in Italian translates to whenever, 

“happily Italian trains are not bound down by narrow interpretations of timetables. And I do succeed in catching it with the luggage and some few tattered remnants of once nice temper.”

Liz discovered that the lackadaisical Italian ways are a blessing and a curse. Because her train is still there when she returned. She takes a huge exhale, phew, and steps back up onto the train and heavily throws herself into her seat. The anxiety melts off of her and she wipes the sweat off her forehead. Then she makes herself cozy, waiting any second now for the train to lurch out of the station. Once she is settled and relaxed...she keeps waiting to feel the train leave...and waits...(clock ticking) and waits ( clock ticking) and waits....(clock ticking slow). Now her anxiety takes on a new form. 

She feels her body start to warm with impatience. 

When is this train going to depart? 

15 minutes go by, then 30, then 45 minutes, and Liz starts to get a little twisted about the Italian’s lack of promptness. 

Finally, an hour behind time, the train pulls out of the station and her two day trip to the north begins. As the train picked up speed, Liz got a full scope of the scenery. She took a breath and decided to forgive the Italians because of Italy. She let the rolling amber and green hills, long cypress trees rising like towers and quaint country houses sitting along. Police and blue Adriatic. 

“here and there. Little snow white towns along. Shores and between are the gray olive orchards”

JBW part 2 

J B W received Liz's telegram that evening. It confirmed that she had caught the mail train and it had left at 1:45 in the afternoon, Italian time, so who knows what time it really was. This guaranteed that she could connect with the steamship la champagne that would sail from La Havre, France, Scheduled to arrive in New York on January 26th. J B W double checked with the STEAM company that they could make a quick passage across the Atlantic for Liz. Nellie Bly was scheduled to arrive in San Francisco on the 22nd. If the weather holds her up on the West Coast as JBW had predicted, it would take Nellie Bly at least four days to get across America, putting Miss Bly in New York on January 26th as well. After months of mental calculation and then recalculation, both women had the same day floating in their heads. But in JBW's mind. As long as Liz made le Champagne, they would have champagne every night. Liz’s telegram is great news. 

Liz back on the train

Nevertheless, her victory was in his sights. Liz was well taken care of on the train. Since this was a smaller train, there was only one steward who had the gentleness of a butler. Who delivers more than mail. He personally spreads news and gossip to all of the locals at each stop along the spine of Italy.

“There is one person who attends to all of. Who is a porter guard steward, cook and brakeman, and has his own ideas on the subject of haste and acts accordingly. When we reach a town where he has friends, he goes out and winds up like a waterberry watch dismounts and is received with affectionate enthusiasm and a little crowd on the platform. He gives his careful attention to all the local gossip and retails the news he's been gathering all along the line. Then climbing back upon his perch lets us run down for the sudden war and we go on our way at meal times. 

Even though it is adding time, Liz is so charmed by the Italians getting their news, not by papers but word of mouth. 

He retires into a tiny den, and from a space, but larger than a matchbox, produces delightful soups and salads. Excellent coffee and well cooked game. Baskets of twisted Italian. Wine and oranges at night. He arranges our sleeping births and I think he would perform our barber duties and assist us with our toilets if called upon to do so.”

Although Liz is comfortable, she couldn't help but be concerned about this extreme delay. The Italians had no concern for a race. She needed to catch a train in the suburbs of Paris to connect to La Hara to reach La Champaign by the next morning. Since the train had a late departure and the gossip added time to each stop, Liz she didn't know if she would make her connection to Le Havre in time. Liz and the friend she made on the train mapped out an alternative route just in case. Worse comes to worse. She could stay on the Italian mail train until Cale, and then a ferry across the English channel and sail from Southampton to get on a ship leaving on the 19th called the Ems. 

As she scans over time tables and maps, she wishes she could be enjoying the scene of the alps instead. Which slowly get larger in the distance.

January 17th 

On the second day of the mail train, the smooth olive hills transformed in texture and the elevation rose. Tenacious grape vines and towns clung to the mountainside. Villages touched themselves inside cliffs and white replace green. The Alps moved in the distance like a winter castle. At various points, she pauses to stare out the window at the sight of the white peaked alps getting larger and larger. The folded mountains distract her from her rushing thoughts about her time. She thought about how different they look from the Rockies, all the little towns cradled at the foothills and cows dot the landscape. The path zigzagged and zigzagged and she tensed a little due to her mild PTSD. Indian mail train twisted around the mountains with a DNA helix. She wished she could have stared out of that window forever. 

Suddenly the train plunged into a tunnel, and when they appeared on the other side, they were welcomed in sunny chilly France.

Liz in France 

Liz immediately notices the disparity between Italian and French resources. 

“Everything is quite different. All at once. A new fortress commands the tunnel and the stadium is better built and larger than those we have seen in Italy. The custom officer, a well set up and good looking Frenchman, is it a smart uniform, inquires politely if we have anything to declare in when we answer in the negative, his heels gather, give a profound salutation and vexes us no more everywhere in an air of greater prosperity, thrift and alertness.”

This train does not stop for gossip and goes at added speed as she falls asleep. She dreams about the evolution she has taken in two weeks. She left in early New England winter and hopscotched from the tropics to the desert and has now returned to snow. The winter welcomes her back as she falls asleep on the train.

Le Champane Plans January 18th 

JV W's plan to hold Le Champagne is all set. His bribe had successfully worked on the French government to hold off her departure. He also arranged for a dinner for the American Legion members to meet Bisland at Vilvenue St. George and accompany her onto a special train to Lahara. He chartered the special train for $300. All included. floating in the English channel was Le Champagne, a mighty steamship with a great record for getting from Europe to America. Quickly. This massive 1000 person passenger ship docked ready to bring Liz home and success. Late that night, hundreds of passengers, workers, sailors, and mailmen gathered at La Havre, to board the ship. Out of the hundreds of people on the ship and hundreds of pounds of mail, they were persuaded to stay until one particular woman got on board. JB W's plan is foolproof. 

LEAD UP TO PARIS SUBURB  January 18th 

Throughout her trip in France, Liz had been getting telegraphs telling her which route to take. She would take the special train to Vilvanue St. George, a southern suburb of Paris, and that would hustle her the 142 miles to Le Havre and get on the chartered train was twice as fast as a regular train and could get her to the coast in three hours within an hour of grace Time and board the ship before it left at 7:00 AM and she's off to America. However, the French have to make up for the Italian delay. Typical. The Indian male train was behind schedule and Liz hoped and prayed. The transatlantic steamship would just wait a little bit longer. Until then, she would wait for a signal. 

“Friday night, some two. Hours after midnight, the guard roused me to deliver a telegram, which says I must be ready at 4:00 AM to change cars for Paris. This means leaving my box under seal for London and crossing the ocean with the few belongings in a travel bag. I rise and dress quietly, scribble a few notes of farewell to such a, my fellow passengers as have been especially courteous and I'm ready. When we halt at Villani in the dark.”

She learned she will be escorted by a number of gentlemen as well on her chartered train. As her mail train rushes closer to the suburbs of Paris, Liz etched out thank yous and see you later. To everyone that was so kind to her on this part of the journey. A sadness took over. All of her new friends and acquaintances were fast asleep. But she had a race to finish. When she snuck off the train, she wished she could have hugged. By, but the steamship had agreed to wait and she would be on a long, lounging trip back home in no time. This flying trip is almost over and a small part of her is sad and relieved at the same time. 

MYSTERY MAN 

At 4:00 AM Liz exited the train and the station was desolate. Not even a mouse is scurrying around. It was open air and freezing outside a thick fog blanketed. The platform reminded her of her days in San Francisco and how unbelievably far away that felt at this point, it seemed like a past life by now. She pushed off the sleep for those few hours and was ready to pass out on the special train JBW had secured for her. She steps off the mail train and finds her platform. She waits in the misty morning hours for train lights in the distance. She wasn't waiting for so long until she heard someone approach her. Probably one of the gentleman that JBWs set up to escort her on her way. The pace quickened, and then out of the fog out stepped a man. He’s put together for what hour it was and he stretches out his arm. This young Frenchman asked if she was Elizabeth Bisk. She nodded a sleepy smile, all is fine. She was taken care of. This man introduced himself as someone who worked for Thomas and Cook's Sons, the largest travel agency in the world, the booking clerks of the Empire. He looks at her for a moment, a sudden pause in his confidence and then says, 

“I regret to inform you that Le Champagne will not be waiting for you. I did everything in my power to have her wait for you. But the government won't allow it. Le Champagne is also a mail ship and has to keep to its tight schedule.”

 without pausing to see her face fall. He wishes her luck and evaporates as quickly as he arrived. This mysterious man didn't leave his name or any official credentials. We don't even know if he actually worked for Thomas Cooking Sons. All we know is that his words changed Elizabeth's fate completely. Liz was left out in the cold like a box of kittens. She feels confused. 

“ That is so strange, it completely contradicts all the telegraphs I have been getting. I thought the boat would wait for me? Sigh...”

She was alone, so close to home, exhausted from being up so early and travling for so long. Something feels off. She isn’t as upset as she should have been because she didn't know the real truth. The man had lied to her. Unbeknownst to Liz, Le Champagne waited for her to arrive on time with everyone else. When 7am comes and goes, the officers on the ship check their watches and telegraph JBW that Miss Elizabeth Bisland has not arrived. THen another hour goes by, then two, and they wait until 10am for Elizabeth to arrive. The captain was interested in Elizabeth's pursuit, but when she didn't show, Walker frantically cabled the chap to request a delay. After negotiating, the French line agreed that they could hold off for a few more hours for an extra $2,000, but the company couldn't do that without the consent of the French Minister of Posts and telegraphs because the company was paid for by the French government. So Walker cabled the American ligation in Paris. Hoping that some of the officials might exert their influence with the French minister. Finally, they had to leave the dock due to the tides, but they even waited an extra 30 minutes in the harbor, hoping Liz could take a tugboat out to the ship. 

After waiting too long for Elizabeth, the French captain had received the message from the government to leave Miss Bisland behind and obeyed. Now Le champagne, a monstrous block in the ocean, becomes smaller and smaller and heads off to New York. 

Liz didn't know any of that is happening and will happen As she walks back to the Indian male train confused and a little defeated, she had to believe this mysterious travel agent.  Liz will not know that she has been intentionally misled until she reaches America. So all we know is that it took one sentence to redirect someone's entire fate and the fate of the race. All she knew was that she had to keep moving. Now she was too awake, so she returned to the Indian male train and threw herself onto the couch. She slumped over. Her posture ruined from lack of sleep. All of this back and forth and confusion is starting to wear on her. She crumples up those goodbye notes because now she can hangout with everyone for a little longer. She focuses on the rising sun. And the scenery to separate herself from her frustration 

“outside of lovely visions, it was worth the lost sleep to have seen.”

She knows that all you can do is ride the whims of the world. As they cross through the Parisian suburbs and then enter the northern French countryside, Liz sketches out her new plan. Her new plan was to end the trip with the Indian mail train P, where Nelly began and take a ferry to England from London. She would take a five hour train ride to Southampton and catch the fastest steam ship the next day named the Ems. Now, she was due to be in New York on January 27th. If she reached that, her trip would be 74 days long and still under the cutoff. Although she was sad to miss Paris, this did mean she gets to go to England, the land of her ancestors. The French countryside, deep in the throes of winter washes over her 

“As the day grows, peasants such as Millet pictures come out of the cottages and follow the road, carrying baskets of vegetables, milk cans, and women blow on their fingers to keep them warm. All this, just as they did in Italy, seems very familiar. I know quite well from pictures and books. It gives one the sensation reversed awakened by reading a realistic novel in which all the little details of daily life are minutely and accurately reproduced.”

ENGLAND! 

They reached Calais by 10:00 AM. The ferry to Dover, just 21 miles over the English channel had just left, so there was time for a little bit of a bath and breakfast. Honestly, this was the best of both worlds for her. Now she was refreshed for the day and she got to go to the place she had always dreamed of in England.

“The channel is gray and stormy when we start, and a gust of rain splashes now and then upon the deck, the sun struggles through the clouds and turns the gloom of a stormy gray green and shifting silver. And there. Boom. Slowly through the midst of the white cliffs of England.”

 Through all the whistling wind and water, Liz was never more excited. The vibrant tropics of Ceylon, the coarseness of Aiden and the delicacies of Japan were long forgotten. She loved the chalky white slab of rock pushing out of the water. hanging over the boat, pearing through the rain coated window tyring to see a blurred out image of the cliffs of dover) In her mind, everything she had done was leading up to this sit as they sail The white cliffs of Dover caked in dead algae and powdered bones of ancient aquatic life are preserved from natural erosion. This dead algae mess was the most beautiful thing she had seen on her whole trip. Seeing England filled her soul with pride and passion that she too was an Anglo-Saxon. I think there's something specifically going to where your ancestors are from. The parts of you that don’t have context but have still traveled within you start to make sense. She takes a train from Dover to London and is glued to the window the whole time. 

“Certain characteristics here are very reminiscent of Japan. The neatness and completeness of everything, the do allowance of trees, dispersed an ornamental fashion. Nature is so thoroughly tamed and domesticated, but where everything that is light, fragile and fantastic. The pictures, railway stations, and a certain moist softness in the air, but where everything there Japan is light, fragile and fantastic. Here, England. It is solid, compact, and durable.”

While staring out the window. This feels like she can see British history playing out in the fields. She passed by 

“the English land, swarms with phantoms.The folk of history, of romance, of poetry and fiction. They trump along the roads, prick across the fields, look over the hedges and peer from every window I hear the clang of their armor and the waving of their banners, their voices ringing in the frosty winter air. Their horses who've beat sound along the path.”

London

The train heads deeper into the English landscape and soon nightfall, tiny sparkles of light begin to fill up their view. Miles of incandescent lights glow from the city borders. Their halos get larger the closer she arrives, and soon they blur into one streak of light As she whizzes through London, 

“flashes the dome of St. Paul's towers and delicate spires and lights shining through many lands like windows, parliament, house where LO's and common suit and debate, long gleams, quivering. Like across a waving black flood. We have passed over the Thames...”

 until they pulled into Chairing Cross Station. Although she is in her ancestral homeland, a cloud of bad luck continues to hover over legs. When she lands in London. The closer she gets to America, the farther it is being pulled away. Once she arrives, she is informed that the Em’s steamship, her backup steamer in Southampton, is no longer leaving. Every plan she hatched, kept falling through. Now she had to hop Scotch across the British Isles from England to Wales to Ireland. The next boat leaving is the Bothena in southern Ireland, quite possibly the sluggish steam ship in all the atlantic.  

“I had meant to remain overnight in London and take the steamer at Southampton the next day. But here the news meets me that this ship has been suddenly withdrawn and will not sail till late in the week. My one chance is the night mail to Holyhead ( on the northwestern side of England) and to catch the Bothina, which touches at Queenstown ( in southern Ireland) next morning.”

All of these ships were ghosting on her now. Now she doesn’t even have a chance to explore London because she needs to be on a train to Whales in an hour and a half. God, who knows if she trusted anyone's advice by now. She is running out of time and options, and she doesn’t have enough time to send or receive any telegrams from J B W. As the 5.5 million people began to wake up, Liz feels like she is a world away from her homeland. The back and forth was fraying her weary body, mind, and spirit. Now filled with bitter disappointment, she had come so far and couldn't imagine failing. But she has to keep going, she has to at least try to finish this race. She can come back to London another time. But the brutality of travel started catching up to her. She hadn't had more than a few hours of sleep in the last few days and hadn't eaten since the day before. She's being pushed past her limit, but she isn't left on the lurch.

“One of my fellow travelers who has been most kind to me all the way from Sian, comes to my rescue and assumes all responsibility. I'm set off to the hotel to dine in company with two kind and charming fellow voyagers. So William Lewis and his daughter, while he arranges my difficulties, I'm far too tired and disturbed to eat and can only crumble my bread and taste my wine.”

The hotel was glamorous. Large gilded chandeliers hung down and the floors were covered in a thick carpeting, soft enough to sleep on. Her travel friend ordered rich decadent French meals. This would've been the dinner she'd always dreamt of, but she could only focus on all the setbacks she had just gone through. Her eyes feel heavy from the poor sleep. While she is eating, a reporter came to talk to her from the Paris News Association. She sighs and answers her questions minimally. She does not want to be bothered right now. All she could think about was the series of confusing events that had crossed her path in the last few hours. Ugh if the faster seamer had played in her favor, she would be on her way home right now. Now she doesn't know if her voyage would be a success, ugh, would JBW fire her if she didn’t make it back in time? He is so capricious, who knows what his expectations really are? Before she has any more time to worry, it's time to get back on the train. Another friend from her mail train joined her at the hotel and escorted her back to the station. 

“He has snatched his dinner, got rid of the dust of travel, and into evening clothes. He brought rugs and cushions so that I may have some rest during the night and a little cake in case agro hungry, and heaps of books and papers. My foot warmer is filled with hot water. The guard is instructed to give me his best care and attention, and then I go away again. Somewhat conformed by the shiver goodness of the traveling man to the Uncared For Woman. The woman who knows how to accept a favor frankly and without tiresome protest, and is at the same time gratefully aware that the service is favor and not a duty, makes every traveling man her faithful servitor...There is a vast amount of chivalry and tenderness distributed in the hearts of men.” 

 Liz settles in for the trip and turns her head out the window. She sees herself in the reflection of the Black Mirror, just like when she left for New York on that surprising November evening. So much has happened between now and then. She looks the same, but she knows that something has shifted within her. She had seen far off places, ancient ruins, and majestic temples. Places she couldn't have imagined. She's experienced the kindness of strangers on every corner of the planet. She's eaten incredible meals, dipped herself in countries and cultures she might have never seen on her own. Although you can't see the effects of aging between two months. Liz was undeniably a changed woman. What doesn’t change is her luck as she rides out a tumultuous night on the train. 

“I fall asleep from fatigue and I'm shaken by horrible dreams and start awake with a cry. The train is thundering through a wild storm. I try to read, but the words dance up and down on the page. The guard comes now and then to see if I need anything, 

WALES 

She can’t go back to sleep and is famished. She unwraps her little spice cake and its crumbly and dry. She chokes it down with a few sips of brandy. Like eating sand flavored with sugar. She take bites and sips. Every time the train stops at every single station, ugh.

deep in the night, I reach Holyhead.

At an ungodly hour of, they finally arrive on the most north western tip of wales, a nub ready to break off the UK and its a straight shoot to Dublin over the Irish sea. But the boat from Holyhead, Wales was late...very on theme. She gathers her belongings and heads towards the pier. Through the dark and rain, she sees a small vessel quivering and shivering getting ready to cross the Irish sea. Even on the calmest days of the year, it is still four hours to Ireland. The rain and sheet pelts her, as she waits impatiently in the cold and darkness. She holds her arms over her chest and her back starts to ache from standing with her bags on her body. She stands huddled on the pier in the throws of the unforgiving weather of the British Isles. Finally, once they are ready to sail, the ship leaves Great Britain and heads to Ireland. Once on the ship, it felt like all the sea monsters were swimming under the water, kicking up the water with their flippers, fins and tentacles. Liz longs for stillness as she crouches on a bench, turns her spare clothes into blankets, and tries to get some shut eye.

“The night is a wild one. The wind in our teeth and the journey was rough and very tedious. The cold and Tempeste day has dawned before we touch King's town and a hurried wrecked for lack of sleep and the means of making a fresh toilet into the train for Dublin.”

Four grueling hours later, they arrive in Dublin the icy Irish morning. From her boat, Liz looks through the rain covered windows and peers at the soft sunrise break open the day. Because of this boat's delay back in Wales, Liz has no time to put herself together. She has to somersault onto a train to Queenstown in southern Ireland. She leaps from one mode of transportation to another, sprinting in the rain, from boat to train. 

IRELAND 

Even in her dampened mood and weather, she still snagged a glimmer of Ireland's misty beauty. 

“Immediately, I'm off again at full speed through a land swept with flying mists and showers a beautiful land green. Even in January,”

Ireland has a top notch moss game, but she also saw the poverty that brought so many Irish to the states. A potato blight may have ruined the crops, but the English demanded that the Irish continue to export crops turning  the potato famine into a great one. If the British weren't going to take care of them, they would cast off to their brethren to the west. 

“Later I see, Rudy Cheeked peasants going along the roads to church, a type I'm familiar with in America, A gaze contemplative at these sturdy young men. And wonder how soon they will be New York Alderman and Mayors of Chicago. How soon these rosy girls and the provincial gowns will be leaders of society in Washington.”

They pull away from the sea and venture through the heart of Ireland, headed south. Liz stares out her window at the gray misty morning. They pass by fields of black and white cows. Grey stone walls line the roads, white thatched cottages with bright red doors dot the flat lands, still green even in the depths of winter. Liz thought she knew green from the tropics, but this land truly is a single mossy color. 

Eventually 

At noon, we reach Queenstown, having curved around a fair space of water and past the beautiful city of cork. The ship has not yet arrived, but will doubtless be here in a few moments. The bad weather having delayed her and my luggage is all hurried down to the tender, but I shall be sent off if I do not whale with hunger.”

Her stomach is clenching, she can’t think about anything but food. Liz hasn't eaten for a day and a half. She would've eaten her own shoes if they were boiled and salted and weren't her only pair. She goes out and searches for anything edible. She can’t go too far, just in case she has to sprint back to catch her steamboat. She cannot miss this boat. With all of her items, she trudges across the street to a hotel, which given her luck, the kitchen is under construction. Her hangriness takes on full form. After begging, pleading, crying with the staff, they offer her cold tea and stale bread. That, in her words, 

“looks as if it had been used to scrub the floor before being presented to me as a substitute for breakfast.”

Liz is running on fumes. The only thought that keeps her sane is getting on this boat. Once she is on the boat she can have some stability, some food, some warmth. She scarfs down the bread and chugs the tea. She doesn’t have time to savor this insult of a breakfast. She thanks the hotel staff and rushes back across the street. She felt a little better but it did not fill her up. She really needs to go to the bathroom to collect herself. She feels so grimy. She still has dust from Egypt in her hair and on her skin. 

Liz returns to the waiting area for the ship and goes to the bathroom at lightning speed. God forbid she was stuck on this rainy aisle. Quickly, she returns to the waiting room, finds a spot amongst the hundreds of other passengers, and waits, and waits and waits. These past few days from Egypt to Britain didn't feel like traveling, just experiencing a linear path. She has summersalted all over Europe, and physically crossed through five countries. But she felt like she hadn't seen any of it. Her bad thoughts were all she could think about to distract her from her hunger and impatience. Now, she had too much time to think about all of the bad luck and her ill fated destiny to take the slowest ship to cross the Atlantic. And apparently getting the ship ready was also slow. 

“hour after hour goes by, but no one summons to come. A dare not move. At least the call comes during my absence and sit there hopeless. Helpless, overwhelmed with hunger, lack of sleep, and fatigue at 6:00 PM My patience is at its end.” 

Liz starts to lose it. Her eyes are bloodshot, her stomach is rumbling, her hair is oily and she can feel a pimple growing on her chin. This is not fun. She can feel the impatient energy of all the other passengers begin to boil around her. 

“and I am calamitously demanding more food when they bring the long expected notice.”

Right when she reaches the end of her fuse, the ship is signaled. Everyone pushes and shoves they're way to get on board first. Toes are stepped on, bags hit other peoples arms, everyone believes they should get on first. They all load onto a tender, a tiny ship that will bring them to the steamship. Everyone pushes their way onto the boat and Liz is jostled around by everyone else. 

“It rains in Torrance, mingled with sleet and the wind blows it temps the tender puts out from shore and it's world around like an eggshell. The wind drives us back and over and over again. We go over the passage before we can make headway against the wild weather. 

The tender couldn't hold up against the winds, the rain board down on her as she stepped into her fate as she sailed towards the slowest ship on the Atlantic. Then the storm becomes apocalyptic. The 30 minute ride took them

...two and a half hours later when we get alongside the ship and ah, and chilled to the bunk, sick and dizzy for want of food and sleep and cla. Stumbling around the narrow slippery plunge path that leads from one ship to the other.”

 The gang plank is slick and everyone’s mood matches the storm and someone takes it out on Liz. 

“No sooner have I set foot on the glassy deck than the push of an impatient passenger sends me with a smashing fall into the scrappers where I gather bruises that last a week. A compassionate steward comes to the rescue and puts me to bed speechless and on the verge of tears.”

Liz is done. She is wet, hungry, stressed, angry, sleep deprived, her hair is a mess, and is so goddamn close to being home. She was tousled wet and turned inside out. She hits that level of exhaustion that only comes from traveling nonstop for days on end. There comes a moment where it doesn't matter how much fun you've had, how many wonderful people and places you've met, how much more you have to see, just want go home. But finally, she was on her final leg of the journey and she hoped that this bad luck will dissipate over the ocean. She collapses onto her bed and sobs so much it matches the storm. This was too much! She just has a little longer to go. I can do it I can do it I can do it. Now ready to embark on the last leg of Nelly and Liz's respective journeys, Mother Nature started corroborating against both of them as January 19th, the 68th day of travel, ended.

Listen to Episode Nine, Part Two here:

Apple Podcasts and Spotify

December 30th- January 9th: Elizabeth Bisland had not felt the pressure of the race until now. She starts to feel the pace of the race pick up and the faster it goes by her the less she wants it to end. But she feels a great shift in herself as she explores the oldest civilizations in the world.

Credits

Narrated by Adrien Behn

Father Time was played by Jake Dingman  

Resources

80 Days by Mathew Goodman

Around the World in 72 Days: The Race Between Pulitzer's Nellie Bly and Cosmopolitan's Elizabeth Bisland by Jason Marks

A Race Around the World: The True Story of Nellie Bly and Elizabeth Bisland by Caroline Starr Rose (Author), Alexandra Bye (Illustrator)

Newspapers.com

New Years

New Years Festivals: Britannica, Editors of Encyclopedia Britannica

New Years, The History Channel

Akitu, Britannica, Editors of Encyclopedia Britannica

Sounds

Freesounds.org 

Soundstripe.com 

Epidemic sounds 

Blue Dot Sessions

Transcript

History of New Years

New Years 

It’s the first new moon after the vernal equinox, and a king stands bare in a temple. He has removed all of his regalia. His quilted robes, crown, sword lay beside. He is standing in a temple before a high priest in the Babylonian equivalent of underwear. They stand in this temple of Marduk the patron god of Babylon who represents justice and regeneration. The priest looks the king in the eyes, and the king stares back unblinking. Then the priest raises his hand and slaps the king in the face. The king closes his eyes with the swing and finds himself looking down at the ground over his left shoulder, cheek stinging. Tears well up in his eyes. And he turns to look back at the priest. The priest jocks his head quickly to look at the king's face, eyes impatiently scanning. Then he sees the stream of tears run down the king's face and both men smile. They exit the building and the priest informs the city that the king is worthy of ruling for another year. And the new years celebrations continue.

Now who knows how accurate this ritual is after 6000 years of telephone. But what is certain is that the oldest holiday humans have celebrated is the new year. The mesopotamians, jewish, egyptians, chinese, maya and incas all have their own ancient traditions around celebrating the new year. Now which day is the new year is up for debate. Many celebrations originated with the spring equinox, once people discovered the day is split evenly between sunlight and darkness. Until Julius Caesar thought better of it. He believed the beginning of the new year should start on the first day of the month that he ever so wisely named after himself January. Which got embedded into our gregorian calendar and the schedule was set for the next two thousand years. 

Although the day has changed a lot the sentiment hasn’t. 

There seems to be a human instinct to show gratitude. To be aware of our consciousness. To acknowledge the passage of time, the importance of the sun and plant seeds for the new year. And appreciate all that this past year has given us. To mark the difference between living and being alive.  And in 1889 there is one woman who is so grateful for what this wild year has brought her.

Elizabeth Bisland Sails to Ceylon

When Liz left Penang, she transferred to a new steamship, the Britannica, a jubilee steamship in honor of Queen Victoria. It sailed for five days from Penang to Ceylon. This ship felt like a mini noah’s arc because there seemed to be more animals than people on it. Liz is delighted by all of them.

One of the officers had a monkey who could only be placated with raisins. Another man had a family of Siamese cats who hypnotized Liz with their white hair and piercing blue eyes. A puppy barked about and made harmonies with somebody's cockatoos. They keep her happily entertained for the few days at sea. 

After days at sea, the night of December 29th, 1989, the boat anchors in Colombo’s harbor. The passengers sleep on the ship, but Liz wants a taste of her newest stop. So she cracks open her porthole and takes in the redolent air. Whiffs of lemongrass, nutmeg, and saltwater pour through her window and flavor her room. She takes a deep inhale so she will be mentally transported back to this moment whenever these smells pass her by in the future. She leaves the porthole open so the air can season her dreams. She cannot wait to see what this sweet and salty island looks like.    

December 30th

The next morning, on the 30th, when Liz wakes up and looks at the island. It's better than any dream she had the night before. She stands on the deck in awe of the massive mountains, the red dirt roads, the smell of fresh fruits and spices wafting from the reef. This wasn't an island, this was paradise. 

“Beyond the massive breakwater of our straitened harbor curve the rims of white beaches filled with foam where palms lean over to look at themselves in a sea of green mother of pearl. Inland the purple distances rise into lofty outlines deliciously softened and rounded by their enormous garment of verdure...the soil is red, the color of ground cinnabar..deep tinted as if soaked with dragons blood ....tulip trees massive white buildings with arched and pillared arcades...the vividness of color here is astounding- bright intense like the colors of precious stones. We doubt the evidence of our senses- doubt the earth CAN be so red, the sea and sky so blue...it's a miracle wrought by the ineffable luminosity of the easter day! A place so beautiful it is believed that this was where Adam was banished to to soften the blow of not being in Eden. His tears turned to pearls.” 

Liz feels goose bumps rise on her arms. I'm surprised she didn't pass out by the beauty or the heat because by 8:00 AM it was already 80 degrees out. 

When Liz and fellow passengers reach land, Liz also takes the extended walk through the markets, the palm trees, along the perfectly smooth red roads that Nellie did. Only Liz is already sad that she will have to leave this place. Liz arrives in the Grand Oriental Hotel, the same place that Nellie stayed. And she marvels at the cool stone buildings, the white walls, the inner courtyard with bright light dotted with orchards. 

The hotel is packed. Everyone saunters around in light white clothing as cool as the stone marble they walked on. Liz notices something. This isn’t just a hotel. It’s a passing ground for more influential travelers, a place to stop between the far reaches of Eurasia. 

That afternoon, she went to the dining hall for lunch in a white room reminiscent of a Greek temple. She admires the flashes of color at the center of each pristine table, bowls of technicolor tropical flowers. As she sits down for tiffin, she scans the room and straightens her back. At each circular table, there seemed to be someone of importance from some far off corner of the world. At one table is the grandson of a famous English poet. At another table is Lord Chesterfield, a British army officer who rose to prominence in Africa. On the other side was Dom Le Augusto, the grandson of Emperor Pedro II of Brazil, and half a dozen more people of influence who had just happened to be here on their voyage around the world. This was the room where it happened, bits of wealth, brutality, and imperialism all sitting in one space together sucking down curry on seashells. This modge-podge of influence turned this rich island into a waste station, all tortured by their thoughts of home still thousands of miles away. Liz fixes her hair. She may be on a joy ride, but she still wants to be presentable. 

While hanging out in the arcade, Liz has the quintessential ceylon experience.

When tiffin ended, Liz has the quintessential Ceyleon experience that Nellie noted out. Where Nellie abstained from jewelry, Liz buys at least two rings for each finger. Liz goes outside to be happily entertained by the magicians. 

“A snake charmer is squatting in the dust before the hotel performing feats of juggling...A small flat basket is where the cobra is coiled. He takes off the cover of the snake basket, the reptile lying suddenly sluggish until rap over the head induces him to lift himself angrily, puffing out his throat and making ready to strike. But his master is playing a low monotonous tune on a tiny bamboo flute with his eyes fastened upon the shakes eyes and swaying his nude body slowly from side to side. The serpent stirs restlessly and flickers his wicked thin red tongue but the sleepy tune drones on and on and the brown body moves to and fro to and fro. Presently the serpent begins to wave softly following the movements of the man's body and with his eyes fixed on the man's eyes and so in time sinks slowly in a languid heap of relaxed folds the music grows fainter and fainter dries away to a breath a whisper ceases. The man hangs the helpless inert serpent- drunk with the insistent low whine of the flute -about his bare neck and breast and comes forward to beg a rupee for his pains. 

The night she goes out for a drink 

with the lady from boston, her son, the Ceylon tea planter and myself hire a guide and carriage and go for a drink. 

They ride along the sickle shaped beach of Galle Face and 

“then inland along the shadowy dank roads under the heavy green vault of the multitudinous palms...” 

For miles, she jots down every kind of tree, plant, and flower, like an amature botanist. 

“All kinds of psalms including one whose papyrus-like leaves were inscribed the sacred writings. We pass banyan trees with roots like huge pythons coiling through the grasses. Breadfruit trees, monster ferns, pools full of lotus plants and orchids growing almost as freely as weeds.” 

Liz is intoxicated with all the riches, spices, and foliage of ceylon. With all this nature, she feels like she can hear the earth exhale and she inhales it all in. 

She goes back to her bed and cracks open her window to be seduced into sleep by the flavors of Ceylon again. 

December 31st

The next morning, Bisland plans ahead. She goes to a travel agency and books a seat on a mail train that goes through Italy up to France the same that Nelly took from north to south. The idea of being in Europe felt so far away. She doesn’t want to leave. She wishes she could linger here. The tropics titillated Liz and she put up with plenty of boob sweat after she secured her travel plans. 

And yet the clock in her head that has been quickly ticking in the back of her brain starts to get louder.

Once she heads back to the hotel, she decides to take a trek through the jungle with a local guide. The guide points out different kinds of trees Liz has never seen or heard of before. He notes animal noises and picks up specimens along their path. Even in the heat, the sultry tropical nature suited her. She feels like she can catch her breath here. 

At one point, Liz notices that her guide has his hair tied up and suspects that his hair is long. She asks him to let his hair down. He reaches behind his head and then unknots his hair. A waterfall of long, black silky waves tumble from his head and reach his waist. Liz is in awe of his beautiful locks and then has a bright idea. She plunges her hand into a pocket and sifts through the geological layers of her bag and pulls out a bobby pin. She takes a lock of her own and pins it back, showing her guide how to use it. Her guide is intrigued. Then she takes his hand, opens his palm and gives him her bobby pin.

He smiles like a child on Christmas morning. He takes a lock of his hair, curls it up again, sticks a pin on it, pulls it in and out of his hair, amazed by how his hair can be fastened. He smiles widely and then he pins it to his shirt for safe keeping. Liz laughs and smiles back at him. Then the guide has a bright idea. He plunges his hand into his pocket and takes out a small bright green fruit, the size of cumquat, wrapped in a wet lime leaf. It’s a betel nut. He hands her the nut and mims to her to put it in her mouth. So Liz takes the nut out of a wet lime leaf, places it in her mouth and bites down. 

“Instantly my mouth is full of a liquid red as blood and tongue and lips are shriveled with a sharp aromatic astringent resembling cloves. I hasten to spit it out but all day my lips are still hot and acrid from the brief experiment.” 

She spits the skin out on the ground, puckers her lips together and forces a smile through her pain. Her enthusiasm is not the same as her guide’s but she is polite and appreciative of his intentions and this small cultural exchange. The guide continues their adventure and brings them to a cinnamon garden surrounding a museum. They pass by a little old woman sitting on the ground with a blanket laid out selling nuts, limes and leaves to wayward travelers. The group plots along to a museum and is guided by the smell of the native cinnamon trees. The forest slowly dots with new growth of reddish flowers and the museum are paintings of all the monsters that come out at night. The leopards, tigers, and vipers and cobras- The underbelly of Eden,

The next stop through the jungle is a buddhist temple. They follow the scent of Jasmine protruding from the altars. 

“heaped with seamless pink blossoms and the Lord Buddha reclining on his elbow drowsing in the host semi-darkness among the stifling scents.” 

She starts to compare this interpretation of Buddha to those she saw in Japan and Penang, how he has evolved from culture to culture. 

“He is 40 feet long painted a coarse vivid crimson and yellow but his flat wooden face is fixed in the same passive low lidded calm that we sat upon it when he sat on his lotus along the japanese roses or on his tiny mountain shrine at Penang to loud voices of the waters.” 

She loves the slight differences in interpretation. As she stares up at the arched temple, its frescoes of buddhist myth and altars of flowers. 

“About the walls are painted in archaic frescos the pains and toils of his fifty incarnations of buddhahood through which he attained at last to this immortal peace. Vishnu and Shiva are the tall gods that stand by the doorway for which he gives room and shares with them his altar flowers.”

She felt the oldness of these sculptures and culture that have lived on this land longer than all of the European influences combined. Liz notes the resting face of the buddha lying on its side. There are nine poses that the Buddha takes, and the reclining Buddha, is a symbol of encouragement. This statue symbolizes the Buddha in the last phase of his illness before he passes over into the other dimension. A release from suffering before being reborn, which get’s Liz in the mood for New Years celebrations as she readies herself to release 1889 behind her.  

Liz’s New Years [00:26:30]

Back at the hotel, Liz seems not to care so much about the pomp and circumstance of New Years here.

 “...it is the last night of the old year and the dining hall has been converted into a ballroom. The men, all in white with gay sashes around their middles are circling languidly with pretty english girls in their arms. A high warm wind whiles through the veranda and flutters the draperies of the onlookers. People waltz lazily and gracefully. ” 

She observes all of the people dancing, and doesn't have any craving to join them. This isn’t how she wants to spend her last few hours of 1889. She doesn’t take the night by the lapel. Instead she drinks it in. She leaves the party and slinks off to her bedroom, opens the window, and indulges in being on this island. From her bedroom window, she hears the hum of the jungle, the heartbeat of the island in the depths of the forest.

“The night is hot and silent - full of musky perfumes of vague ghostly stirrings of “old unhappy far of things'' that move one with poignant mysteries memories of the dense tropical darkness with its silent flitting figures full of the glimmering bewildered phantoms of passionate and pains that perish centuries again.” 

The senses around her hypnotize her. She falls into a trance,a sultry daydream and then falls asleep. 

January 1st, 1890

Regardless of how the night haunted her, she got the sleep she needed and awoke with fresh eyes. 

“Morning! The new year is coming in a beautiful green dawn. A chrysoberyl sky, misty green sea..a great silent joy in the morning wind. I have sprung out of bed to receive a letter. My first one from home. A few lines scrawled on the other side of the world that I leaned from the window to read in the faint early light. How beautifully they make the new year seem! Whatever this coming year will contain of grief and rebuffs at least it has begun with one good moment and for that it is well to be grateful.” 

Fully refreshed, she's embracing that new year energy, new decade, new country, new side of the planet. Liz looks out of her window. She doesn’t want to leave this paradise- the colors, the variety of flowers, the treasure troves of jewels, the friendliness of the locals, the smell of spices in the air. And as a swell of excitement rises inside her chest, she is reminded she sees her steamship waiting for her off in the distance. 

She’s not on a pleasure trip. She is working. So she hurries to pack her things and sail to another corner of the world. She walks back on the red roads, shaded by palm trees as the sparkling blue harbor opens up to her.

As the ship pulls away from the island of paradise, Liz holds on to the remaining tendrils of serenity and pleasure she enjoyed on this island. On January 1st, Elizabeth Bisland set sail from the bottom of India and heads towards the Middle East. 

Liz in Aden 

As Nelly embarks on the Pacific, Liz is picking up speed in the Indian ocean. As she lounges around on the spacious p and o steam ship, Liz is having a hard time figuring out how she is supposed to be back in New York in two weeks! The world is spinning a little too fast for her because in 18 days all of this will be over? And by now, as she sails towards her home, the last thing she wants is for her travels to be over with. This was much more than a wild goose chase, this was living. She didn’t have to think about the end just yet. For now, she could relax and let the water continue to push her closer to home. As always, there were quirky humans to entertain her until Aiden. This particular ship sailed from Australia to England for anyone leaving Australia. It was a six week voyage. It was such a long time that the Australians could set up shop and settle in for the Long Trek.

“They have made themselves thoroughly at home for the six weeks cruise. Their rooms are hung with photographs and drapery and bits of bric a brac and on deck each one of them has a long bamboo lounging chair, a little table and a tea service for that beautiful ceremony of five-o'clock tea. Three times a week the band plays for dancing on deck, tableau, private theatricals and fancy balls fill the evenings and in the afternoons the after part of the ship is lively with games of cricket.” 

The week-long trek passes in a haze. 

“Magical white nights of ineffable stillness and purity fade into the blaze of daffodil dawns,..time goes by in lotus dreams that have no memory of past or reckoning of a future till we wake suddenly and find anchor cast in the gulf of aden...”

Then on January 8th, a week into the new year, the day after Nellie left Japan, Elizabeth Bilsand squints her eyes at the slabs of land in the distance. Even from the ocean, she could tell that her time in the verdant tropics is over. The earth was now the color of dust and rust. All the moisture had been sucked out of the soil. after being dipped in the tropical jungles for weeks. This must have been a record scratch moment for her. As someone who grew up in lush forests and marshland, the desert must have felt otherworldly to Liz. 

Aden Arrival (55:18)

“Red baron masses of stone broken and jagged...an astonishing aridity everywhere all the more starling by contrast with the fierce endure of the lands we have last seen, not a drop of rain has fallen here in three years and no green thing lives in this place. ...The earth is an imapable dun powder that no roots could grasp. The rocks are seamed crack and withered to the heart. The dust and bones of a dead land...”

They approached the entrance of the Red Sea to refuel with coal. Liz notes the British warships, buoyed in the harbor as they approach the outskirts of the Ottoman Empire. A sovereignty that has held this corner of land for hundreds of years. Its grasp is loosening up and western countries are trying to nibble away at it like ants on a sugar cube. From a distance, she saw 

“one narrow street of heavy wat stone houses with flat roofs finding the shore.” 

And like Nellie, Liz only had time for a quick layover to load up on more coal and move on. So when they rode to shore, Liz and her group carried a carriage with little ponies to take the passersby to the tanks. A system of ancient stone cisterns. The ones Nelly didn't have time to explore. It is a leftover mystery from thousands of years ago. 

These Tanks are of unknown antiquity and are variously attributed to Solomon, the Queen of Sheba, the Arabs and - as a last guess- to the Phoenicians. Historians when in doubt always accuse the Phoenicians. 

The deep wells were made to collect rainwater. The air was hot and dry here of all the places Liz had been, the land that felt like bones had turned to ashes. They go up a windy road up from the sea to a barrier of rocks and treks through a black echoing pass 200 feet high. 

In this rainless region, where water falls only at intervals of years, it was necessary to collect and preserve it all, and someone built among the hills huge stone basins with capacity of hundreds of thousands of gallons. These basins are quite perfect still, though the name of the faithful builder thereof has long ago perished.

It seems that they only pass by the tanks on their way to the town below them. 

On the other side of the wall of hills is the town, a motley assemblage of more flat topped stone dwellings, all lime-washed as white as snow. In the midst is a well where women in flowing drapery, with tall jars, draw water as if posing for bible illustrations. And a camel market in which fifty or more of the brown, ungainly beasts have been relieved of their burdens and laid down for the night. 

They passed by the stucco houses covered in coal dust. This was a whiplash from her last few locations. Liz looks for any evidence that plants can grow here. 

We rattle through the silent, dusty town and find beyond it a garden where a dozen feeble trees have b y constant waiting been induced to grow as high as our heads, but appear discouraged and dropping and ready to give up the effort at any moment. 

 Now the earth was barren, uninviting, inhospitable, and yet people managed to keep living here, building homes, having children, and then grandchildren and keeping their history alive. On the other side of Aiden's Hills was the center of a huge volcanic crater. They walked through the rows of flat topped huts, cobbled together from stone and mud washed in limestone, giving them a pearly sheen. The Gary pauses in the center of town to let Liz and her fellow travelers off to explore. For a moment, Liz muses through hundreds of elephant tusks, stacked like pyramids. Animal hides layered on top of each other, stacks of coffee beans next to tins of Franken senses and murder. Indians draped and scarlet and gold robes walk past bearded Arabs and travelers from every edge of Africa. Sit at the tables smoking water pipes as trains of camels, lazily walk through the streets or lay down to rest. They pass through the remnants of ancient volcanoes. The scenery rises and drops simultaneously. 

The sun set quickly and the sky turned black fast. Liz and her crew return to the ship for dinner and then gather themselves for one last adventure. They return to the Tanks. 

Later, when the silver fire of a full moon, by whose light one can read and see colors, has swallowed up the glittering pageant, we go again to the tanks. 

The oars dip into the water streaked in silver of the moon's reflection. They get on land and 

“ passing on the route a loaded train of camels lurching away to the desert through the black shadows of the pass and stepping beside them lean swarthy arabs draped stately in white- such a caravan as might have gone down into egypt to buy corn from Pharoah four thousand years ago nothing in the interval changed in any way.”

This time, when they arrive at the tanks, they get off their garry and take a walk around. The quiet desert air cools her body. Her mind begins to hum again as Liz becomes fully awake. She walks along the edge of these massive basins, letting the rusty dust cover the tips of her shoes. She looks down into one and can faintly see the outline of her own silhouette just like the thousands of people from thousands of years ago have done. She notices the silver moonlight rippled in one corner of the velvet waters. She notices how time has pockets. The world doesn't evolve at the same speed. Something about the moonlight, the mystical eeriness, the stillness of the place took over. Liz, her brain hummed along with inspiration and emotion as she walked through these ancient architectural feats. For a moment, she really feels the age of the earth, the galaxy, the universe at large. Liz’s brain zooms through all of the history that has led her up to this moment and how much has happened before she was even had a cell. How was there so much of it she would never experience? How much of it would always be a mystery to her, even if she dedicated her life to travel?

“Our footsteps and our voices echo in hollow whispers from the empty tanks and the mysterious shadows of the hills though we walk lightly and speak softly awed by the vast calm radiance of the Africa night, other than that it is very silent in this dead and desert spot not a leaf to rustle not an insect to cry and even the sea has no speech. The world grows dreamlike and unreal in the white silence.” 

She sits in this mystical stillness under the thick blanket of stars. So bright and dense she could have been looking at the century of the Milky Way, galaxies densely packed together. Even when fighting with the moon for attention, she reached out and traced her fingers along the stones. Never has she touched anything so ancient. She felt as if the past looped in with the present and she could feel the backbreaking labor of those who dug these masons. These tanks outlived whoever created them but somehow immortalized them. Whoever made them had created something of actual importance, something still in use. What would she do with her life that would outlast her? 

That thought haunts her as she turns away and returns to town.  

When Liz and her crew make their way back to town, Liz spots a man, the kind of man you would expect to find in the desert. Wide-eyed and filled with wisdom, who murmurs prophecies and is clothed in animal skins and a wooden stick. Something about seeing him makes her feel like every problem she has ever had is so small, every falsity and frivolousness of her life is so banal. 

How small her life felt now. She laughs at her silliness- she could have missed this just to host a tea party?! No matter how overwhelming her life might feel at times she knows that she is small as are her problems as surrenders to something much larger than herself. As they pass through. She notices how the sea is as white as corals in the moonlight and the little gleam of lamps throughout the streets. The town's population is gathered in the square playing dominoes and games at little tables and drinking coffee. Liz sees one person from every corner of the Indian ocean trade, playing dominoes with each other and drinking tea, enjoying the splendor of their exchanges. Liz drinks in her final moments in this biblical land and goes to sleep on her ship. 

January 9th- Elizabeth Bisland Leaves Aden, Yemen 

The next morning before they cast off, Liz goes on deck to take one last look at this unknown corner of the world, A place she never thought she would be here and would probably never return to. Then suddenly, she is startled. She sees a man lounging in a bamboo chair. She gets self-conscious because she's not done up yet, but then she thinks. 

“I hesitate a moment conscious of the dishevelment of locks beneath the lace scarf tied under my chin but think better of the hesitation and remain. I may never see this again, this world, where one is really for the first time “lord of the senses five” where the light of night and of day have a new meaning where one is drenched and steeped in color and perfused where the husk of callous dullness falls away and every sense replies to impressions with a keenness as of new born faculties...”

She tries to take a photo with her mind, looking at every detail with full intensity. 

She watches 

“a man watching a long narrow boat filled with oranges heaped up in the center cutting a delicate furrow along the pearly lilac of the glass like sea. A faint gray mist scarcely more than a film lies along the shore. Above it the red rocks stand up sharply against the white sky where the coming sun is changing to gold....

Liz thinks back to her fight with J B W and quietly thanks this crazy man who put her on this journey. How mundane these few months would have been in comparison to what she was actually doing. How different her life would've been if she'd never went. Like a leaf breaking through, her brain cracks open and grows. She feels how tiny she is in this vast universe, but one she is a part of nonetheless. She surrenders and wants the universe to swallow her whole. Liz feels her throat start to dry and choke a little bit, not because of her desert surroundings, because as her journey starts to end, she is so grateful that she got to see a glimpse of all that the world has to offer. And she accepts that she will never see all of it.

“every moment I have spent in the tropics is to me just as vivid as this. I see everything. Not a beauty, not a touch of color escapes me. Every moment of the bay means intense delight, beautiful life...and now after six months no line has faded or grown dim. I can live back in it in every emotion, every impression and though not an hour divided me from it...it is well to have thus once really lived.” 

Liz takes one more breath, inhales the dust and the smell of coal and feels the boat drag out of the harbor. She holds onto that feeling as she takes on the last third of her journey. She holds onto that moment of peace, because from this moment on, there will be no resting. Now with Liz looking to the west and Nellie looking to the east, they both had their eyes on the same spot of Land. And on day 55, January 9th, Elizabeth Bisland passes Nellie Bly’s pace as she sets sail for Europe.

Listen to Episode Nine, Part One here:

Apple Podcasts and Spotify

December 30th- January 8th: Nellie Bly rings in the New Year on a steamship headed to Yokohama. And something happens to Nellie when she arrives in Japan. For the first time, she doesn't want to rush through this country. Japan seduces her and Nellie wishes she could pause the race to enjoy this enchanting country.

Credits

Narrated by Adrien Behn

Father Time was played by Jake Dingman  

Resources

80 Days by Mathew Goodman

Around the World in 72 Days: The Race Between Pulitzer's Nellie Bly and Cosmopolitan's Elizabeth Bisland by Jason Marks

A Race Around the World: The True Story of Nellie Bly and Elizabeth Bisland by Caroline Starr Rose (Author), Alexandra Bye (Illustrator)

Newspapers.com

Geishas

The History of Geishas in Japanese Culture, Toki, Tokyo Tourism Writers

Geisha: Brittanica, Written and fact-checked by Britannica Editors, 2023

The Evolving Role of the Geisha, Tricia Salvador, Marquette University, 2002

Sounds

Freesounds.org 

Soundstripe.com 

Epidemic sounds 

Blue Dot Sessions

Transcript

Prague 

On December 31st, 2012, I woke up in my favorite city, be it, it was a cold, but brightly lit room on a mattress on the floor next to my best friend and a man named Angel. Don't worry, it's not one of those stories. I don't know if Angel was his real name or if that was the name he had chosen to go by. He was a hippie cowboy. He dressed and acted in a way that was nostalgic for a time he would never live through: cowboy hat, leather vest, no shirt, bell bottoms, and a guitar strapped around his chest at all times. He’s the kind of guy you meet when you are traveling. But truely, he really did have the face of an angel, soft and sharp features, long flowing hair as slim as a green bean, and walked as though his feet hit clouds, not cobblestone. I can't remember where in the States he's from, and I also can't remember how he got so far from America and why he chose here of all places.

But here he was with Carla and I, thousands of miles from our home. We were staying with Don, an American filmmaker from Oklahoma who had come to the Oklahoma of Europe in many people's eyes. How he met Angel, I have no idea. A few weeks prior I messaged Dan on couch surfing and he sent Carla and I his address. On a chilly day in late December, we knocked on their door to stay with them for a week, the serious filmmaker and the carefree guitar player. For seven days, angels told us stories of hitchhiking across America. While Dan critiqued vintage German movies over giant beer steins. They were two of the weirdest and most wonderful people I met on my six month journey. Together we all aimlessly wandered through the capital of Eastern Europe. The most beautiful city in the world to me: Prague. 

The red roof tops. The Renaissance, gothic, and classic Rococo architecture. The light is crisp and bright. It halos around the pastel town, of light pinks, silky lilacs, pale blues, and creamy yellows. I love Charles Bridge, which overflows with music outside the orchestra. Quartets harmonize under the stoic eyes of Stone Saints. You can see the whole view of the city from Petrin Hill, the home of classical music, epic clubbing, and fantastic era. To me, it doesn't hold a candle to any city in America.

This was not my first time here but it was the first place I ever went outside my country. I left New York to study abroad for a semester, and in those five months, I think I fell in love with the city because it revealed new sides of myself I didn't even know existed. It was the first time I was really alone, but not in a lonely sense. I had the freedom to be alone. I could walk through the city at my own pace, go to whatever coffee shop I wanted to before class, and ride the tram to the end of the line. It was a slice of independence that my 19 year old self had never experienced before. I had to figure out everything on my own in another country where I didn't speak the language from directions to health insurance. Every morning, I felt my heart squeeze as I walked through the serpentine cobblestone streets and figured out the city on my own time. I loved the quiet feeling of walking down the same road that thousands of people have walked on for thousands of years. I felt an oldness that never graced my cheek in the states. I am eternally grateful that this was my first glimpse of the world outside of my homeland. So when I was 22, I went back to her.

Once I graduated college, I booked a one one-way ticket to Paris and bopped around on the other side of the Atlantic. After six months of traveling, my friend Carla joined me right around Christmas. And a few days before New Year, we arrived in Prague and all of her glory, which is how I ended up sleeping on a mattress on the floor in a residential neighborhood in the city. My outfit by then was a tattered hand me down puffy coat with pockets toward shreds that I got in Amsterdam for five euros, my friends hiking boots from the 8th grade, and an airplane blanket for a scarf. 

During our few chilly days in the city, when we weren’t with Angel and Dave, Carla and I played tag in the courtyard of Prague Castle, and we found secret staircases, and explored stores filled with puppets or blown glass. I woke up every day trying to catch as much sunlight on the city before the sun left us at four in the afternoon. All I wanted to do was walk around the city and cry over how beautiful she was and how good I felt being here. 

So on the night of New Year's, we had a little traveling orphan celebration. We got some champagne and cheese and chocolate with whatever money we had left in our bank accounts. We cheered for 2012 and talked about whatever you talk about when you are in your early 20s and have no responsibilities yet. 

When the clock got closer to midnight, we started to rally. We all knew what was to happen next: the party, the countdown, the glitter, the performance of it all. Angel put on a huge furry coat that the Bee Gees would've been jealous of, I put on my coat and airplane blanket scarf. And a few streets over was a nearby couch surfing party where almost every country was represented. It was like the UN was about to rage in a very small apartment. We mingled and drank the best beer. Then 10 minutes before midnight, the whole party moved out of the house, a large park with an outstanding western view of the city skyline. It was freezing out, but the excitement warmed us up. Carla, Don, Angel and I huddled in the crowd, all gathered like penguins warming an egg. We stared out at the outline of the city, the spires of Old Town, the castle in the distance, the massive bridge connecting both sides of Prague. All the little red homes lit up from the inside. Suddenly a chorus of languages started to rise.People began to count in every language- ten nine eight ( count in english, czech, russian, german, french). As we count down, a warmth rises from the ground. 3,2,3 Then we scream- HAPPY NEW YEAR

And suddenly. I’m no longer in prague. A memory flashes through my brain, and I'm staring out of a crowded apartment on Bastille Day with a straight shot of the Eiffel Tower where fireworks are exploding all around it. I blink and now I'm holding the waist of my Russian couch surfer as he speeds us around on a Vespa on the edge of the Greek island. The scene jumps and I'm reaching up and raking olives out of a tree in Italy with a few new friends from Italy, Israel, New Zealand and Germany. The Netherlands, Croatia, Turkey, Spain, all of these places I have visited in these last few months woosh through my head. I turn mid scream and see Carla and our new friends jumping up and down in slow motion– the old and the new mix together, blasting off to a new unknowable future. I think of all the people and places I would've never met if I didn't go out and find them. The universe had been so kind to me for taking such a huge leap. I felt like I was going to explode like one of the fireworks flying over our heads. I celebrated the earth rotating around the sun and living to see another day. What are the odds of being here or being alive at all? So why not celebrate it? Why not jump up and down in the cold, set up fireworks and kiss a stranger? Why not live to the fullest? Because who knows if we will be around to see the earth go around the sun again. As I jumped up and down, holding Carla's hand, I was just happy to be here. 

When the clock strikes midnight on January first, you feel the new year coming and all the possibilities that lay ahead. And in 1889 two women sail toward new countries and a new decade they had never seen before fueled by the excitement of what is to come. 

Nellie Bly’s New Year

On the last day of the year, Nelly sits in the social hall of her steamship with the officers and fellow passengers. She had left Hong Kong on the 26th and was on her third day on the sea headed towards Yokohama. Her steamship, the Oceanic, is known to be one of the faster and more luxurious steam ships. The boat is so decked out that there was a waiting list for people to travel on it. It is the dawn of luxury cruises. But Nellie could care less about the amenities. All she cares about is its speed. And luckily for her, only a few months prior, this boat made the fastest trip on record from Yokohama to San Francisco, and Nelly prays that the boat's luck will carry over into the new year. On her 47th day of travel, Nelly and her monkey became notorious quickly.  

“When I first went to the ship the money had been transferred from the Oriental. Meeting the stewardess I asked how the monkey was, to which she replied dryly: we have met. She had her arm bandaged from the wrist to the shoulder! What did you do? I asked in consternation. I did nothing but scream; the monkey did the rest!”

I mean, if I was trapped in a cage and forced to be in a windowless storage room on a ship for days on end, I would bite someone too. The monkey is neglected as Nelly parties it up On the last day of the year. When the clock near midnight, Nellie stood up and sang with her new travel friends. By now, she is used to being around people she wouldn't be with for very long. she toasted to strangers and shook peoples hands, wishing them all good luck and a happy new year. 

“old song toasted to the death of the old year and the birth of the new. We shook hands around each wishing the other happy new year. 1889 was heeded and in 1890 with its pleasures and pains began.” Her fellow New Yorkers were stuck in the past. She was in the future sailing towards another ancient civilization. 

Nellie thinks about how wild 1889 had been for her, and what did 1890 have in store? In between sips of champagne, she contemplated what the next year would actually bring: more stories, new adventures, and hopefully a winner to this race. The end is near. Hopefully she drank enough champagne to forget about the race altogether for an evening. But I do also hope that both Nellie and Liz cherished this one evening of the time they rang in the New Year on the other side of the world. 

January 2nd, Nellie Bly Arrives in Yokohama, Japan 

On January 2nd, Japan's outline comes into view. Nelly stairs along the coast of this lonely island. Forests of pine and bamboo trace the coastline, Mount Fuji’s base widens and top sharpens as the steam ship gets closer. Once she steps off the gangplank, Nellie takes in her surroundings on land, just like Liz. She gets in a rickshaw, and the city opens up to her. The energy shift is strong. A mild winter air breezes by her. As she rides a rickshaw into town, Nellie feels like she can breathe here. It is so clean and calm and not nearly as crowded as New York or Canton. This city seemed to consider the comforts of people. It didn't just cram everyone into one spot. Granted Yokohama's population isn’t nearly as large either. As she rides through the city, she notices the crests embroidered onto the shirts of her rickshaw driver and that every man, woman, and child have a crest on their chests stating their status. Her rickshaw takes her to the Grand Hotel, the same where Liz stayed. She is in awe of this large building with its long verandas, wide halls, and airy rooms that command an exquisite view of the lakefront. When Nellie arrives in her hotel room, she opens up her window and looks down at the orderly streets around her. Every little detail stands out to her. But she doesn’t want to linger. Her urge for exploration begins immediately and she hits the streets. She walks around with her notepad, scribbling notes of everything she sees. 

Nellie’s writing becomes more porous and soaks in every detail of her surroundings. She first notices the New Year's decorations lining the streets. January is considered to be the most important month in Japan. They decorate their homes for the New Years deity who leaves good luck at their doorsteps for the coming year. 

They have two very pretty customs in Japan. One is decorating their houses in honor of the new year, and the other celebrating the blooming of the cherry trees. Bamboo saplings covered with light airy foliage and pinioned so as to incline towards the middle of the street, where meeting they form an arch, make very effective decorations. Rice trimmings mixed with sea-weed, orange, lobster and ferns are hung over every door to ensure a plentiful year. 

What is most starkly apparent to her is how quiet the streets are. She watches as the locals don’t seem to walk but quietly glide around the city with their high wooden shoes and deep sleeves. She listens to the shuffle of their elevated wooden sandals, as if they are walking on little stilts. The locals are raised up a few inches off the ground to prevent their feet from getting wet or muddy. 

“On a cold day, one would imagine the Japanese were a nation of armless people. They fold their arms up in their long loose sleeves. A woman's sleeves are to her what a boy's pockets are to him. Her cards, money, combs, hair pints, ornaments, and rice paper are carried in her sleeves. Her rice paper is her handkerchief and she notes with horror and discusses that after using it we return our handkerchiefs to our pockets.” 

Like Liz, Nellie is transfixed by how women hold themselves here. 

“The Japanese woman knows nothing whatever of bonnets and may they never. On rainy days they tie white scarves over their wonderful hairdressing but other times they waddle bareheaded with a fan and umbrella - they have no furniture. Their bed is a piece of matting, their pillows, narrow blocks of wood. They rest the back of the neck on the velvet covered top so their wonderful hair remains dressed for weeks at a time. Their tea and pipe always stand beside them so they can partake of their comforts, the last thing before sleep and the first thing after.” 

Nellie is charmed by their femininity. Which is why, what Nellie is most excited to experience is the geisha girls. That night, she and her fellow travelers organized to go see one of the geisha ceremonies. They arrive in a clean and well kept pagoda. They are welcomed and slip their feet out of their shoes and into slippers, then slip into the sparse room with nothing more than matting on the floor and a screen separating the rooms as she sat on the floor. The room is silent and pressingly calm. Nellie touches the mat. It is as soft as velvet. 

“It was laughable to see us trying to sit down and yet more so to see us endeavor to find a posture of ease for our limbs. We were about as graceful as elephants dancing. A smiling woman in a black kimono set several round and square charcoal boxes containing burning charcoal before us. These are the only Japanese stoves. Afterward she brought a tray containing a number of long stemmed pipes- japanese women smoked consistently- a pot of tea and several small cups.” 

By the time Nellie sits down for the geisha performance, geishas have been solidified into Japanese culture. Women studied for years to become geishas and learned everything from singing to dancing and instruments to conducting proper tea ceremonies. Some women came willingly. Others were indentured servants pressured to become one by their parents. Geishas are hired to escort high class patrons for parties, and are used especially for their conversation. Perhaps, one of the reasons Nelly is so excited to interact with Geishas is because Geishas are encouraged to be educated and their intelligence doesn't threaten men. They were not encouraged to be meek and submissive. That was for Japanese men's actual wives. Geisha's were the savviest businesswomen Nellie had ever come across, while still being feminine, and Nellie was in awe of them. 

“Impatiently I awaited the geisha girls. In, the tiny maidens gilded at last, clad in exquisite training, angel sleeved kimonos. The girls bow gracefully, bending down until their heads touch their knees then kneeling before us murmur gently a greeting... Drawing in their breath with a long hissing suction which is a token of great honor. The musicians sat down on the floor and began an alarming din upon Saimesens drums and gongs singing meanwhile through their pretty noses. The geisha girls stand poses with open fan in hand above their heads ready to begin the dance.”

Nellie is transfixed. She notices the variety of hair decorations and how intricately they paint their faces in chalk white, charcoal black, and ruby red. Geisha girls paint their faces to enhance their features and to be seen better in candlelight. It's also a way to mask their true feelings. The musicians begin a along chanting and the dance begins,

“They are very short with the slenderest of spender waists. Their soft and tender eyes are made blacker by painted lashes and brows. Their midnight hair stiffened with a gummy wash is most wonderfully dressed in large coils and ornamented with gold and silver flowers and gilt paper pom poms. The girler the girl the more gay is her hair. Their kimonos of the most exquisite material, trail all around them and are loosely held together at the waist.” 

“The musicians began a long chanting staring and these luxurious bits of beauty began the dance. With a grace, simply chanting they twirl thor little fans sway their dainty bodies in a  hundred different poses, each one more intoxicating than the other all while looking so shy with an innocent smile lurking about their lips, dimpling their soft cheeks, and their black eyes twinkling with the pleaser of the dance.” 

She understood why men fell in love with them so quickly. When the performance ends, the geisha girls are just as curious about Nellie’s outfit and come up to her.

“After the dance the geisha girls made friends with me, examining with surprised delight my dress, my bracelets, my rings, my boots- to them the most wonderful and extraordinary things- my hair, my gloves, indeed they missed very little and they approved of all. They said I was very sweet and they urged me to come again and in horo of the custom of my land- the Japanese never kiss- they pressed their soft pouting lips to mine in parting.”

As they parted from the geishas and went back to the hotel,Nellie sighed. 

“I wish I could really talk to them and ask them questions!

As Nellie heads back to her hotel and goes to sleep, she feels seduced by this country. 

January 3rd- Nellie Bly Goes to Tokyo

In the morning, she arranged trips to two nearby cities: Kamakura and the newly named Tokyo for the next day. So, on January 2nd, Nellie and a group of traveling friends take the train south through the rolling dense forests to Kamakura, the old capital of Japan. They are there to see one of the largest Japanese Buddhas. They walked through the wide streets lined with bright orange and red pagodas, sweeping wooden rooftops and the crisp smell of pine in the air resting at the base of Mt Fuji. Nellie and her traveling friends came upon the great Buddha, the Diabutsu, a rusted bronze statue, a minty green sheen covering it from years of aging. 

It was built in 1250 by Ono Goyemon, a famous bronze caster, and is fifty feet in height. 

This is the second largest Buddhist shrine in the country. It's flanked by two lush mountains and the Buddha sits in lotus position. As Nelly stares up at this statue from another time. One of her friends is so impressed by it he 

Offered 50,000 for the god. 

There was something about the serenity carved into the Buddhist face that made her aware of every inhale and exhale. But not for so long. because at one point, she climbed up on the buddha to get her photo taken. 

“I had my photograph taken sitting on its thumb with two friends, 

That seems to be a natural human impulse. 

“We also visited a very pretty temple nearby, saw a famous fan tree and a lotus pond and spent some time at a most delightful tea house where two little girls served us with tea and sweets.” 

Their technology and order was above anything Nelly had ever experienced.

Something is in the air here but every night Nellie goes to sleep intoxicated with Japan, just like Liz. 

January 4th, Tokyo 

The next day Nellie and her crew ventured north to Tokyo. Their main goal was to visit Mercado's Japan and European castle, which is surrounded by a 50 foot stone wall and three wide moats. But she was much more fascinated by how the people of the most modern Japanese city carried themselves. She noticed that the Tokyo locals embraced modernization the most. 

There is a streetcar line in Tokyo, a novelty in the East, and carriages of all descriptions. 

This city was busier but didn’t sacrifice comfort. Some men biked around in their traditional clothing costume while others walked about in European dress. They chose what to wear based on what pleased them in the moment. Kimonos are so comfortable even Europeans wear them exclusively for inside attire.  

“The Japanese are very progressive people. They cling to their religion and their modes of life, which in many ways are superior to ours but they readily adopt any trade or habit that is an improvement upon their own. It is true that a little while ago they were totally ignorant of modern conveniences. They knew nothing of railroads, or street cars, or engines, or electric lighting. They were too clever though to waste their wits in efforts to rediscover interventions known to other nations, but they had to have them. Straightaway they sent to other countries for men who understood the secret of such things. They were set to work  and with them toiled steadily and watchfully the cleverest of Japanese.  When the contract is up, it is no longer necessary to fill the coffers of a foreigner. The employee is released and their own man, fully qualified for the work, stepped up into the position. And so in this way they command all business in their country.” 

That does sum it up. Nellie has such a reverence and respect for them. She admires how efficient they were at everything from schooling to chopsticks and even their note taking. 

“A Japanese reporter from Tokyo came to interview me, his newspaper having translated and published the story of my visit to JV.” 

She noticed that he had all his questions spaced out on a long roll of foolscap and filled in the space when she answered. She thought it was curious if not kind of ridiculous at first. She watches him take notes as she answers his questions. Then, after the interview is completed she is impressed by the efficiency. 

“I concluded it would be humane for us to adopt the Japanese system of interviewing.” 

Although Tokyo is busy, it isn’t nearly as overwhelming as New York, Hong Kong, or Canton. There is a natural eb and flow here that Nellie is happy to glide through as she leaves the modern heart of Japan and heads back to Yokohama. 

January 5th, Nellie Bly is back in Yokohama 

In her second to last day in Yokohama, she tries to soak up as much of Japanese culture as she could. 

“ I ate rice and eel. I visited the curio shops, one of which is built in imitation of a Japanese house, and was charmed with the exquisite art I saw there; in short, I found nothing but what delighted the finer senses while in Japan.”

But like Liz, Nellie needs no more entertainment than watching them all go about their days. All Nellie wanted to do was to absorb their way of life.  

“The prettiest sight in Japan, I think, is the native stress in the afternoons. Men, women and children turn out to play shuttlecock and fly kites. Can you image what an enchanting sight it is to see pretty women with cherry lips, black bright eyes, ornamented glistening hair, exquisitely graceful gowns ( jesus christ why don’t you marry one) tidy white stockinged feet thrust into wooden sandals, dimpled cheeks, dimpled arms, dimpled baby hands lovely innocent, artless, happy playing shuttlecock in the streets of yokohama? Some women play shuttlecock with babies almost as large as themselves tied on their backs playing shuttlecock with an abandoner that is terrifying until one grows confident of the fact that they move with as much agility as they could if their little backs were free from nursemaid burdens.”

It is here, for the first time, where Nellie strangely wishes she was born here. Maybe she wishes that in another life she is reincarnated in Japan. 

“If I loved and married, I would say to my mate: come I know where Eden is, and desert the land of my birth for Japan the land of love, beauty poetry, cleanliness.”

But is it better to not be born in the places that we fall in love with, so we can always appreciate how special they are to us? For the first time, Nellie feels herself wanting to linger here. Because she knows her time is running out. This was the last country that Nelly was going to be in before she returned to America, and she doesn’t want a second of it to pass her by. 

Nellie Bly’s Last Day in Japan

On her last day in Japan, she hiked up a hundred steps for a famous tea house where a Japanese belle lives. This illustrious woman was a muse for artists and poets admired by tourists in the teahouse. Nellie has a view of the whole city, the cherry blossoms, the thatched houses, Mount Fuji and the ever expanding Pacific. As Nelly sipped her tea and relished in her last hours on this one of a kind land. The peaceful, quietness of the tea room brings her back to the tense silence in the courtroom where she defended her mom. All those years ago, nearly a decade had passed and here she was sitting in a quiet tea room in Japan. She really sees how far she has come by her own will, fortitude and tenaciousness. She would have never sat here if she listened to all those editors who told her that a newsroom is no place for a woman. She would've never walked the streets of Hong Kong, slinked through the Suez Canal or met Jules Verne in the French countryside if she had taken their declines to heart. She did not need a man of any kind to help get her to the other side of the world or anywhere else she will ever want to go. All she had to do is listen to her voice and hold onto the spark that burned within her. She sips her tea, takes another breath, looks out at this painting of a view. Then she settles up with her tea lady and bids her farewell. 

January 7th- Nellie Bly’s Last Day in Japan (49:16)

On the morning of January 7th, Nelly Bly walks up to the harbor. 

“It was a bright sunny morning when I left Yokohama. A number of new friends at launches escorted me to the Oceanic.” 

She arrives up on deck, and leans over the railing, like she has on every other boat she used to get here. She looks out one last time at the volcano, memories of samurai, buddhas, and geishas dance in her head. As the boat pulls out, and she soaks in one last yearning filled look at Japan, Nellie isn’t sad. She smiles. A rush zips through her body. She loves knowing that a place like this exists and she got to be there for a few cherished 120 hours. The steamship pulls out to leave the east for good and Nellie Bly starts to head home.

and when we hoisted anchor the steam launches blew loud blasts upon their whistles in farewell to me. A band in Omaha played Home Sweet Home, Hail Columbia and the girl I left behind me in my honor and I waved my handkerchief so long after they were out of sight that my arms were sore for days. My feverish eagerness to be off again on my race around the world was strongly mingled with regret at leaving such charming friends and such a lovely land.

Maybe one of the reasons she never wanted to linger in one place for too long is because she didn't wanna get attached. Her heart could fall in love with places as quickly as people, so it's better to just get there and rip the bandaid off. But instead she finds that she knows she has the strength and skill to return if she wants to. So with the wind in their sails, they took off from this bewitching island and everyone hoped for a quick voyage. If it went well, they would be on American soil. On January 7th, after covering nearly 18,000 miles, the longest stretch of her journey is still ahead of her. There are 8000 miles of water between Nellie and her homeland and another 4000 miles to New York. Nelly twists her ring, closes her eyes, and whispers to the fates for good luck. Her heart squeezes not only for Japan but because she knows that this whole adventure is quickly coming to a close. Going around the world in 80 days feels much faster than she would have guessed. 

Thinking about the record breaking speed the oceanic had in November, they needed all the luck they could get. The Tradewinds will push against their eastbound ship this time of year. Never before had Nelly considered the invisible force that blows around and pushes her fate this way in that. The ship's captain William Allen believed that they could match their previous record and get into San Francisco by January 20th, two days ahead of schedule. He was so confident, he ordered someone to write a rhyming couplet and post it on the ship's engines and throughout the engine room.On January 7th, Japan was on their backs and the race was on. Again.

Listen to Episode Eight, Part Two here:

Apple Podcasts and Spotify

December 20th-25th: Elizabeth Bisland is deliciously indulgent in Malaysia. But even in all the beauty of the tropics, she can't help feeling homesick as she sits on the  thousands of miles from home.

Credits

Narrated by Adrien Behn

Father Time was played by Jake Dingman  

Resources

80 Days by Mathew Goodman

Around the World in 72 Days: The Race Between Pulitzer's Nellie Bly and Cosmopolitan's Elizabeth Bisland by Jason Marks

A Race Around the World: The True Story of Nellie Bly and Elizabeth Bisland by Caroline Starr Rose (Author), Alexandra Bye (Illustrator)

Newspapers.com

The Jade Trade

Ancient jades map 3,000 years of prehistoric exchange in Southeast Asia: Written by Hsiao-Chun Hung Yoshiyuki Iizuka, Peter Bellwood, +6, University of Pittsburgh, Pittsburgh, PA, December 11, 2007

The Silk Road: 8 Goods Traded Along the Ancient Network, By David Roos, The History Channel, June 29th, 2023

Jade: Wikipedia

Jade Meaning: Jadehunt.com

Sounds

Freesounds.org 

Soundstripe.com 

Epidemic sounds 

Blue Dot Sessions

Transcript

Jade

A roman open air market is in full swing. Columns bifurcate shops and clothes are tied overhead to shade shoppers and sellers from the high noon sun. Merchants from France, Spain, and North Africa are all mulling about. They are selling wine, buying olive oil, haggling over timber, bargaining bags of corn, and trading with locals and foreign merchants. 

Then at the mouth of the market enters merchants who have traveled hundreds of miles. Maybe they came from Alexandra, Damascus, or Constantinople passing it on from other merchants who also travel hundreds of miles. They have precious goods that have come from the far far far east. Some carry silks, others seeds of foreign crops and one bag glows green from the inside. Jade. a precious stone has traveled 4,729.73 miles to decorate a goblet or be placed on a neckline. 

With a discerning eye, what was once a rock now became a symbol. Each culture along the silk road imprinted their own meaning onto it. In ancient China, jade was the most precious stone. It became tribute payment, offerings, and an imperial stone. People wear it around their necks or keep a stone in their pocket to rub for harmony, purity, immortality, balance, and good luck. The gem supreme, the stone of the heart. For the Romans, they attributed it with their fertility goddess. 

It is interesting that we traded stones. They have no impact on our survival. Gems don’t keep you warm or feed you. But at some point in our evolution, something clicked. Being alive can be more about survival. That life can have beautiful moments, we can cherish items, we can imbue meaning. There is something to hold onto after all of the pain and suffering and disappointment. Taste is being born.

Although necessary, it's also important to enjoy the pleasures of life. And in 1889, there is one woman who also finds beauty in unexpected places. is finding the beauty in everything. Who knows how to appreciate luxury who loves the finer side of life. Sailing through waters as green as the precious stone.

Elizabeth Bisland on the Indian Ocean

Liz doesn’t need a fortune teller to know she has made good luck. 

While Nellie tightens her grip on this race- Liz continues to be carried through the tropics and indulges in her sample platter of delights.

We sail through the blue days on a level keel. The sea does not even breathe; but it quivers in the terrible splendors of the noon with undreamable peacock radiances. There are no pageants of sunsets. The burning ball, undimmed by any cloud, falls swiftly and is quenched in the ocean. 

Then the constellations hang in the awful vault of darkness like enormous gleaming lamps trembling in suspension. 

Where nellie wants time to speed up, Liz wants nothing more than for it to slow down. 

On her way from Hong Kong to Singapore, Liz had an easy ride, and even with her last minute ship swap, she said she's never been so happy as when she was on the Tims. 

“I'm worn out with delight. My head swims with glorious confusion of tropic splendors and there's no room or capacity in it for more impressions, just as now it's a beautiful ship, like a fine yacht.”

 She admires the milky jade tinted sea and loves the slinky softness of the tropics. She is from the south, so this heat is familiar to her. The thick humidity veils Liz in a lackadaisical aura.  

“I sleep the laborious voluminous sleep of the tropics. Life is good in this magnificent equatorial world. Again, I'm a great sponge absorbing beauty and delight with every pour.Every day brings new marvels and new joys. I go to bed exhausted happily and wake up expectantly smiling.”

Now, Liz is the only young woman on this ship other than a little old granny from Boston. The majority of the passengers were British sailors. Liz feels more comfortable on this ship with such few females, maybe she has gotten used to being a rare woman, so instead of looking at the men in fear and apprehension, 

“The men from captain to cook are fine creatures. Their physical vigor is superb, such muscles, they're flat backed and lean loin. They carry huge shoulders with a lordy swagger.”

Liz’s lust did not stay on the mainland. MMMM. She categorizes each of their varied British accents and bites her lip thinking about which one she prefers to hear most. 

“There is the man with the burly beard with a broad scotch drawl. The handsome officer who has a yorkshire on the tip of his tongue. The ceylon tea planter talks like a new yorker or the tall blond from oxford..leaving one speechless in awe of all these eccentricities.” 

so to distract herself, she goes on deck and watches the sunset every night and the changing colors of the seawater, like a living watercolor painting. The lavender water transformed into deep shades of purple and red as the sun pulled the light away for night. Liz then tilts her head back to look up at the brilliant stars above her, recognizing the same constellations she could point out back home. Cast Perus or Orion. Like the moon, these constellations follow her and keep her company. The warm nights reminded her of the bayou, making her feel less like she is on the opposite side of the planet. 

LIZ IN SINGAPORE 

Every hour brings us nearer the equator and on the morning of the 23rd of December we sight Singapore, seventy miles only from the centre of heat. 

At a distance, Liz can already tell that the natural world is really in charge here. 

Against the sky line everywhere are the feathery heads of palms and the tremendous riot of verdure upon all the hills is of a vivid dazzling green. The vegetation is enormous, rampant, violent. It contests every inch of space with man and aided by incessant heat and moisture constantly writest from him his conquests and buries them in a fury of viridescence. 700 years has this city of the lions stood but the never ending battle with tropic natures lust for disintegration has left it with no monuments of fits great age.

Liz docks in Singapore for the night. After they fueled, Liz would head to Penang and then Colombo retracing Nellie’s path. The lily white skinned, light haired fair weathered British soldiers complained about the heat as they got closer to the equator. But Liz's southern sensibilities kicked in and she felt at home in the thick humidity. Then her heart thumbs a pang of pain. She’s so far from home... She shakes her head and is escorted down the gangplank to the mainland.

When her feet hits the island, she walks amongst the White House that popped up against the natural red roads, yellow mangoes and pineapples sold on the streets and loves her hotel. Everything is made of cool linen white from people's clothes to the lime that they washed their homes in. She arrives at her hotel and has a delightful meal. She joyfully scoops bright yellow curry onto her plate with giant soft pink shells and plucks sweet rolls off a banana leaf platter. She listens to a man who

She sits next to two young subalterns and an English officer who has been stationed in the east for long enough that 

All but the succulent English flesh has been burned off of him long ago, and left him lean, tawny, and dry. 

He attempts to give two of his enthusiastic young subalterns sage advice. With a stiff upper lip, 

He has no enthusiasm, he has no interests except duty and the service, and he does not think any locals in the east are in the least pretty or pleasant. His advice to the youngsters, while valuable, is saturninely patronizing and full of disillusionment, and one can see it falls somewhat coldly upon their youthful ardor. 

Liz takes another slurp of stupendous curry and thinks how sad it is to only see the world through war. The meal is heavy enough to send her to bed early. 

She settled into her simple hotel room,

A huge dim apartment with a stone floor opening directly upon the lawn and into the dining room. The bed is an iron frame; the single hard mattress is spread with a sheet and there are no covers at all. 

Liz doesn’t mind. She puts down her bag filled with her change of clothes. 

She lies down on the bed and feels the cool mattress against her skin. 

And she didn't need much more than to lull her to sleep. 

RATS 

Liz snuffs out her candle and a warm breeze blows through the window. As she lays in bed, she waits to feel the drop of melatonin seep into her body and she falls into a light sleep until she hears a wrestling. 

What was that? Did I hear something? Was that a dream? 

A tingle ran down her spine and suddenly she knew she wasn't alone. The noise was not in her head. It was coming from inside the room. She was so tired. Could she be making it up? What was that? The adrenaline drop kicked her melatonin high out of there. Sweat dots her forehead, her dress sticks to her body. She doesn't even have a sheet to cover her head and give her the illusion of protection. 

The room is hot, utterly black and still, save for the sound of those feet and the loud banging of my heart against my ribs. 

There is only one creature that could be making such noise... a tiger must have gotten into her room. Tigers hunt people after dark. Maybe she didn't hear other people's screams because the tiger had gotten to them already. Finally, she couldn't take this lying down. If she was going to be eaten. She at least wanted to see who was going to do it. In the dark, she quietly reached over for her matches, takes one out, and strikes it. The sound of the candle did not upset her beastly roommate. Once the flame began to swallow more of the candlewick, it illuminated a small area of the room. Liz's eyes adjust and she makes eye contact with the monster making the noise to her relief. It was not a tiger shuffling through the room waiting to pounce on her, but to her disappointment, it was a fat, heinous, repugnant rat. Sniffing through her stockings. Honestly, this critter was so big it could take on a tiger. The rat looked right into her eyes, paw on her shoe and Liz stared back.

I have no intention of attacking him and my notice appears to bore him.

She’s so overwhelmed by the heat that this rodent is the least of her problems.As it sniffed at the balls of her shoe, the beast moved onto her gloves and dress running. Its long nose along the hemline, it's fat tail wagging back and forth like a flag caught in the wind. It seemed to be enjoying this open air market. 

“This is disgusting. I wish I was back home in my own bed. At least there the rats are smaller. I’m so tired I don’t want to put up with this. Whatever, as long as it doesn’t come near me, do whatever you want, you rodent. Everything can be cleaned in the morning.” 

She blows out the candle and goes to sleep. 

DAY TWO SINGAPORE 

The next day. Liz felt a little off. Her nerves were being exasperated and she was sensitive to everything. Her afternoon was uneventful. She was accompanied by the Chief of Police who gave her a tour of the city. She had some nice tea, and mused through the botanical gardens, the governors palace surrounded by palm trees and bamboo, museums and shops before returning to the ship. Singapore is fortunately small enough to see everything rather quickly. 

On her walk through to her hotel she passes people of all backgrounds- malya, chinese, indians, and british. 

As they ride in the buggy on the way back to the harbor. She can’t really place how she feels; she just feels off. By now, she knows that her adventure is like a poem but a soft sadness creeps over her. She felt conflicted. She loved the adventure. But she was halfway around the world and she was longing to be home. What is wrong with her? Maybe it was because it was christmas eve and she didn’t want to think about what her friends and family were doing without her. As they pull up to the boat, and Liz gets back onto the Tims. 

Elizabeth Bisland Spends Christmas Far from Home 

Nellie wasn’t the only one having a hard time enjoying the holiday. Although Liz’s day on the sea was far less dramatic, the feelings of homesickness still remained. She was in Pang's harbor on the Tims trying to deck out the halls. 

“The ship tried to pretend that they were all back in their chilly homelands, not sweltering the oceans of Sumatra. The ship is decorated with much variegated bunting, and the servants assume an air of language festivity, but most of us suffer from planted reminisces of home and nostalgia. There is a splendid plum cake for dinner, or the Santa Claus atop huddled in sugar furs despite the burning heat. We pulled Christmas crackers in the holidays at home and from their contents, I am loaded with paste jewels and profoundly provide with poetry and brief segments.”

She missed her sisters and all of her friends. Although she had been having way more fun on this journey than she anticipated. Even though she has met so many incredible people on this trip, seen incredible places, is it worth missing her time with her family? Liz fortunately did not have an execution site to distract herself from her holiday melancholy. 

Instead, after their celebrations, they dock in Penang, and Liz and some companions head out to Penang.

Penang- Its peaks shoot sharply up into the blue air 2000 feet warped in a tangle of prodigious verdure to their very tops, enormous palm forests fringing all the shore. 

 They go on a waterfall excursion, pulled through the dense jungle by a little pony and carriage. On their way, 

We overtake a chinese funeral winding towards the cemetery, all the mourners clad in white. The coffin of unpainted wood is so heavy and so large that 20 pall bearers are required to carry it. It is the most cheerful cortege. No one seems in the least downcast or dispersed by their bereavement. 

The path they take zigzags through the dense labyrinth of trees and pass by 100 feet tall coconut trees. 

“It is frightfully hot here among the trees. The atmosphere is a steam bath and the moisture pours down our faces as we spring from stone to stone.”

A local boy leads them who has the speed and agility of a goat. 

Up there in the tops of the palms, flows a dazzling flood of light and as the faint warm wind waves the huge dropping fans we catch flashes of flaming blue;but below we are in the shadow and cannot feel the winds breath. 

Liz notices the difference between all of the foliage and her young guide shows her a trick. 

The garden lies between two very lofty cone shaped peaks and is well kept and full of tropical blossoms. The boy stops to show  me in the grass tiny fronts of the sensitive plant that shudder away from his rude little finger with a voluntary movement starting to see in a plant. 

Then they arrive. She can hear the waterfall but can’t see it yet. 

“We hear the rushing screech of waters calling loudly in the hills, but see nothing save the mountain. Garments of opulent verder.”

Finally, the trees part and the view opens. She watches the green pool quiver as glittering silver splashes down into it, and Liz notices something in the corner. 

“A tiny shrine built here at the site of this first pool is tended by a thin melancholy ad young priest who lives alone at this great height. His only companions, the ceaseless brute of the waters and the little black elephant headed God in the shrine. He bears a spot of dried clay upon his forehead, a token of humility at this morning devotion, he dips his hands into the water, then in the dust touches upon his brow and wears this sign of submission all day. I lay a piece of money upon the altar and in return am given a handful of pale perfumed pink bells that grow upon the mountainside and are the only sacrifice offered to the little black God. “

The priests smile at her and turn around. They pluck a few tiny pink flowers near them and beckon Liz towards them. A toothless curious smile graces her lips as she steps forward. The priests mime to her to remove her hat and indicate they would like to tie the flowers into her hair.  

They are pleased when I comply. 

Liz takes off her hat and turns her back towards them. Standing on soft moss, she holds her hat and closes her eyes. She feels the gentle touch of their fingers run through her hair and separate it. Her lips curl into a pursed smile as One by one, tiny pink blossoms poke out of Liz’s chestnut brown locks. Liz inhales the perfume of the tropical forest and the kindness of these generous priests. 

When they are done, they all smile big toothy smiles. Liz’ turns around and blushes and smiles back at them. She bows and they bow. 

To think that only 43 days ago, Liz had been in the gray flat plains of Nebraska. Now she is standing in a world that is anything but plain. And she knows that the cost of not being at home for Christmas...just this one time...is worth it. 

Listen to Episode Eight, Part One here:

Apple Podcasts and Spotify

December 19th-December 25th: Nellie Bly surpasses her halfway point, but bad luck and worse news meet her at every corner. She suffers through a monsoon, receives aggressive unwanted male attention, is rescheduled again, all before learning that another woman is in the race against time as well...

Nellie takes charge and has an unforgettable Christmas day in Canton, China.

Credits

Narrated by Adrien Behn

The Crazy Man and Mr. Ferman was played by Fabian Martinez Sanchez

The Captain and the Reporters were played by Sam Dingman

The Manager was played by Nick Markovitz

Ah Cum was played by Artin Yip

Father Time was played by Jake Dingman  

Resources

80 Days by Mathew Goodman

Around the World in 72 Days: The Race Between Pulitzer's Nellie Bly and Cosmopolitan's Elizabeth Bisland by Jason Marks

A Race Around the World: The True Story of Nellie Bly and Elizabeth Bisland by Caroline Starr Rose (Author), Alexandra Bye (Illustrator)

Newspapers.com

The Indian Ocean

Indian Ocean, Britanica, Written by Viktor Filipovich Kanayev, Philomene A. Verlaan, Joseph R. Morgan, Nov 25, 2023

Maritime Silk Road, Wikipedia

Cultural Selection, UNESCO Editors

The Maritime Silk Road: Global Connectivities, Regional Nodes, Localities, Written by Sanjyot Mehendale, James W. Lankton, Amsterdam University Press, 2022

Sounds

Freesounds.org 

Soundstripe.com 

Epidemic sounds 

Blue Dot Sessions

Transcript

The Indian Ocean is the most traveled body of water in the world. Once the Sumatrins fastened a sail to their ships and left the Persian gulf, trading and traveling became synonymous. One by one, a constellation of ports were built up along the edge of oceans and seas from eastern africa to southeast asia. The maritime silk road was much more influential than its terrain counterpart and allowed a wider audience of players to get in the game. Since 700 bce, vastly different groups traded much larger quantities than any camel could carry on its back. As the trading increased so did the ships. The vessels became bigger, faster, and sturdier. They yoked the monsoon winds and were pushed and pulled by the weather. For thousands of years, the cultures that lived along the Indian and western pacific ocean all circled and crossed each other exchanging goods, ideas, beliefs, inventions, and sometimes germs. And in 1889, it is here in these well traveled waters that Nellie Bly and Elizabeth Bisland will continue a tradition and cross each other as well.  

I’m adrien behn and this is strangers abroad- a race around the world- based on the true story of nellie bly. 

The south china sea is the farthest eastern edge of the maritime silk road. The philippines, Indonesia, taiwan, malaysia, borneo, burundi, and the belly of china and eastern edge of vietnam make a small oval that encompesess the south china sea. These countries have traded with each other since the idea of trading began. 

Nellie and the Monsoon

And In mid-December. Both women were gliding through it, their little blue dots inch closer to each other, blinking faster and faster as they reach closer to one another.

Then on the 35th day of travel, both women pass each other. But Nelly still doesn't even know that Liz is racing her as she entered the opposite end of the world. Liz was headed southwest to Singapore as Nellie headed northeast to Hong Kong. As they each respectively crossed one another,their paths tie a knot around the earth. Both had their own trials and joys, hiccups and headaches and fascination with all that they had seen already. And now the retracing begins. So for you and I, dear listener, the fastest way around the world is the same either east or west. So as Nelly and Liz unknowingly sail past each other, they are both about to touch down on all of the places that their competition has already explored. And it all starts with a monsoon.

Nellie Bly in a Monsoon

Nelly is used to the four seasons, but near the equator, it boils down to two, the wet season and the dry season, and Nelly was getting splashed in the face with the wet season. 

“The evening we sailed to Hong Kong the next day. The sea was rough and headwinds made the run slower than we had hoped for. Towards noon, almost all passengers disappeared. The roughness increased and the cook enjoyed a holiday.”

When she gets the chance, she creeps up on deck to watch the monsoon in all of its wreck and beauty. 

“The terrible swell of the sea during the monsoon was the most beautiful thing I ever saw. I would sit breathless on deck watching the bow of the ship stand upright on a wave, then dash headlong down as if intending to carry us to the bottom.”

Nelly loves a thrill. Waterfalls are boring because they're just in one spot. But a monsoon? you're flirting with the death instinct.

Under her. The boat wobbles to and fro. Waves crash around her punching the ship. At one point, the force of the wind and water even throws her to the side of the deck and nearly has her crash through a window, but she grabs onto an iron bar and laughs in the thrill of it. This is the high seas adventure she was craving! And the drama doesn’t slow down from there. 

Nellie isn’t the only person on the deck. A number of men who couldn't keep their dinners down, came up on deck and tried to get some cool air. They would lie down on deck chairs after succumbing to mal de mar. And one of these men takes a fancy to Nellie, even between upchucks.   

“ One man who had been quite attentive to me became seasick. I was relieved when I heard it, still I felt very cruel when I would see his pale face and hear him plead for sympathy. As heartless as I thought it was, I could not sympathize with a seasick man.”

Gross, who wants a rain soaked man wreaking of vomit to be curling up on you. But he persisted, 

“He would quietly curl up on his rugs at my feet and there lie, in all his misery, gazing up at me.” 

At various points on their tumultuous journey, this man comes up to her and says things like'' You would not think that I am enjoying a vacation, but I am.” or “ You don’t know how nice I can look. If you would only stay over in Hong Kong for a week, you would see how nice I can look.” 

The ship is too small for Nellie to blow him off and everyone else picks up on this man's obsession with Nellie and it becomes a running joke on the ship. Nellie is mildly annoyed and tells some of her new shipmates that he was bothering her. Being good fast friends, her shipmates told the obsessor that she was engaged to the Chief Officer who did not approve of her talking to other men. But does that stop men? If anything it increased his devotion and his advances continued. 

One stormy night, Nellie goes out onto the deck, alone. She sits in a chair and is enjoying the view of the storm. Out of the darkness and noise, Nellie doesn’t notice that behind her, the creepy man appears. 

Then he comes up in front of her and puts his hands on the arms of the chair and crouches over her, forehead to forehead. 

Nellie’s body tensed. She is cornered. Before Nellie could say anything, he started talking wildly. 

“Do you think life is worth living?”

What the...? Nellie tries to look around from the corners of her eyes. No one else is on deck. But she keeps her cool. With a whimpered smile and faked cheer in her voice, “Yes, life is very sweet. The thought of death is the only thing that causes me unhappiness.”

God why did you mention death?! Change the subject! 

“ You cannot understand it or you would feel different. I could take you in my arms and jump overboard, and before they would know it we would be at rest.”

“ You cannot tell. It might not be rest-”

“ I know; I know. I can show you. I will prove it to you. Death by drowning is a peaceful slumber, a quiet drifting away.” 

Nellie turns as straight and stiff as a pencil. She is nervous if she makes any sudden movements, he will grab her and practice his theory on her. 

So she kept him talking. 

“ Is it?” 

“ You know, tell me about it. Explain it to me,” and looks out the corners of her eyes again to see if maybe someone has come on board.”

Just as he began to speak, I saw the Chief Officer come on deck and slowly advance toward me. I dared not call. I dared not smile, lest he should notice.”

The chief officer notices Nellie and the man and almost turns away to go to the lower decks. But instead, he decides to play a joke. The Chief Officer slowly tip-toed up behind the crazed man, who is still cornering Nellie and frothing at the mouth about how wonderful it would be to be in heaven together. Then the Chief officer grabs the back of the crazed man and he jolts up. He releases his hands from the chair and Nellie slithers out of the seat. 

The officer clapped the poor fellow on the back and said, “What a very pretty love scene!” 

Nellie grabs the hands of the chief officer and Nellie hustles them down to the lower deck. 

Now, the Chief officer laughs and just thinks that he just played a funny joke. Once they are away from the crazed man, Nellie informs the chief officer about the crazed man’s plot for a seaside murder/suicide. Chief officer’s smile turned to a grimace and he consulted the ship’s captain. They decide to lock the crazed man up for the remainder of the trip. Then for reasons beyond my comprehension, Nellie protests! She doesn’t want him locked up.She just wouldn’t be alone on the deck anymore. Ugh, can’t a woman just enjoy a storm in peace these days?!

As Nelly calmed down from this situation, the sea didn't. One night the monsoon sea washed over the ship in a frightful manner. The ship feels like a rubber duck tossed around out in the ocean. 

“I thought it was very possible that I had spoken my last word to any mortal. If the ship did go down, no one would be able to tell whether I had gone around the world in 75 days or not. The thought was very comforting at the time for I felt that I might not get around in a hundred days, I could have worried myself over my impending fate. Had I not been a great believer in letting unchangeable affairs go their way, I thought if the ship goes down, there is enough time to worry when it's going. All the worry in the world cannot change it one way or the other. And if the ship does not go down, I only wasted my time. So I went to sleep and slumbered soundly until breakfast,” 

Nellie is rocked back and forth in the chaotic arms of mother nature. She lets go. She can’t negotiate or bribe the weather to calm down. No amount of worrying or complaining can change that. Something shifts in Nellie. She starts to understand that she has to ride with what the world throws at her. 

When she wakes up the next and last morning, the South China Sea finally chills out. With the exception of the madman, everyone on the ship is in good spirits and hangs out. 

“The evening of December 22nd, we all sat on deck in a dark corner. We all felt an eagerness for mourning, and yet the eagerness was mingled with much. That was sad. Knowing that early in the day we would reach Hong Kong and while it would bring us new scenes and new acquaintances, it would take us from old friends.”

Although they had faced monsoon head on and sailed against the Tradewinds, Nelly and her boat make it to Hong Kong two days ahead of schedule. She has broken all previous records. Nelly was elated by this news now she really made up for those days lost in Celon. When the long stretch of Hong Kong's smooth mountain peaks come into view, she finally breathed Easy 

NELLIE BLY ON TIME

She reached Singapore yesterday and is off for Hong Kong

Nellie in Hong Kong 

Although Nellie is off her ship, the drama still follows her like a shadow. On the morning of her 38th day, 

“we first saw the city of Hong Kong in the early morning. Gleaming white were the castle like homes on the tall mountain side. A cannon was fired as they entered the bay. The space of the bay was very narrow and already filled with ships, so they give off a morning signal.”

As per usual, the moment Nelly landed, she hurried to get out of Hong Kong. She was worried that her delay in Ceylon made her miss the P& O steamer to San Francisco. So the first thing she wants to do is go to the P&O office and get her ticket to Japan. Dr. Brown also joins her in Hong Kong and together they hop off the gang plank and onto two sedan chairs. Just like Liz, Nelly feels weird about being carried around by two men, but she sits down on the chair and enjoys the scene. 38 days out of New York and Nelly is in China. The other side of the world! And Hopefully she wouldn't have enough time to explore actual China. They passed warehouses and buildings filled with hundreds of families with balconies as clothes lines. She noted it was the most similar city she's been to since New York. A similar kind of congestion and cleanliness. 

“I went to the O and O office feeling very much elated over my good fortune with never a doubt but that it would continue. 

Nellie and Dr. Brown enter the office with high hopes they enter and see a man behind the counter. 

``Will you tell me the date of the first sailing for Japan?” 

The employee squints his eyes at Nellie. Then juts back and says, In one moment, and scurries back to a back office. When he returns, another man is with him, also looking at Nellie with inquiry.  When I repeated my question he said,

 “What is your name?” 

“Nellie Bly,” 

“Oh you better come back here,” 

and usher her back into the back office.It was a dark little room, windowless, and tightly packed with stacks of papers everywhere. The office manager welcomes them. 

“Come in, come in.” 

and beckons both Nellie and Dr. Brown to sit. The manager looks at Nellie in the eyes and says,

 “You are going to be beaten.” 

“What? I think not. I have made up for my delay,” I said, 

“still surprised, wondering if the pacific had sunk since my departure from New York or if all the ships on that line had been destroyed. That had to have been the only option.”

“You are going to lose it,” he said with an air of conviction 

“Lose it? I don't understand what do you mean?” I demanded, 

*this man is crazy*

“Aren't you having a race around the world? 

“Yes; quite right. I am running a race with Time,” I replied

“Time? I don’t think that is her name.”

Her?Her!! Who is her?

She found herself stuck in an Abbott and Costello routine and became increasingly flustered. 

I repeatedly thought “poor fellow, he is quite unbalanced, and wondered if I dared wink at the doctor to suggest to him the advisability of making good our escape.”

“Yes, the other woman; she is going to win. She left here three days ago.” 

I stared at him; I turned to the doctor; I wondered if I was awake; I concluded the man was quite mad, so I forced myself to laugh in an unconcerned manner, but I was only about to say stupidly, “The other woman?” ( record scratch sound)

“ Yes,” he continued briskly; “Did you not know? The day you left New York another woman started out to beat your time, and she’s going to do it. She left here three days ago. You probably met somewhere near the straits of Malacca. 

Nellie feels the blood drain from her face- and listens as the man tells her that steamships are being bribed to leave ports early to ensure that Liz gets ahead no matter what.

Her editor offered one or two thousand dollars to the O&O if they would have the Oceanic leave San Fran two days ahead of time. They would not do it but they did their best to get her here in time to catch the English mail for Ceylon. If they had not arrived long before they were due, she would have missed that boat and so would have been delayed ten days. But she caught the boat and left three days ago, and you will be delayed here five days.” 

Nellie began to feel sea sick even though she was standing on solid ground. Her heart fluttered so intently, it had the speed and feruy of a caged bird trying to escape. 

As her brain calculates the math of another woman, being ahead of time and now behind, and having to stay in hong kong for five days, This might have been the first moment in her life where she is actually rendered silent.

She knows she needs to stay composed, so she swallowed her feelings and musters, 

“ That is rather hard, isn’t it.” 

her lips pinched together and she made some kind of a smile that did not come from the heart. All the fun of traveling evaporated. 

“ I’m astonished you did not know anything about it,” he said “ She led us to suppose that it was an arranged race.” 

“I do not believe my editor would arrange a race without advising me... do you have any cables or messages for me from New York?” 

“Nothing,” was his reply. 

She bit her tongue hard. She felt the vein on her neck throbbing. 

Why would her editors not tell her? Can I trust this man? How credible is all this? 

“Probably they do not know about her,” 

“ Yes, they do. She worked for the same newspaper you do until the day she started.” 

What? Nellie feels shvied. 

“What other woman works for the World? There weren’t that many other female journalists. Why would the World send another woman without telling me? Have we crossed paths?”

“ I do not understand it,” I said quietly, too proud to show my ignorance on a subject of vital importance to my well-doing. 

She switched gears and tried to focus on the other annoying piece of news.

“ You say I cannot leave here for five days?”

“No and I don’t think you can get to New York in 80 days.” 

“She/Miss Bisland intends to do it in 70. She has letters to steamship officials at every point requesting them to do all they can to get her on. Have you any letters?” 

“ Only one, from the agent of the P &O requisition the captains of their boats to be good to me because I am traveling alone. That is all,” (laugh sigh) 

She looks down and sees her left hand furiously twist her ring on her finger. Suddenly the world was spinning too fast.

“ Well, it's too bad; but I think you have lost it. There is no chance for you,” you will lose five days here and five in Yokohama and you are sure to have a slow trip across this season” 

A glacial silence filled the room. All Nellie could hear is the sound of every gear turning in her head and all of her emotions shouting at each other. 

Then a young man with soft black eyes entered the room. He comes up to Nellie and introduces himself as Mr. Fuhrmann, the purser of the Oceanic, the ship on which Nellie would eventually travel to Japan and America. He takes Nellie’s hand firmly and his soft brown black look deeply into Nellie’s green ones.

“ I went down to the Oriental to meet you; Mr. Harmon thought it was better. We want to take good care of you now that you are in our charge, but unfortunately, I missed you. I returned to the hotel and as they knew nothing about you there I came here, fearing that you were lost.” 

He had such a look of sympathy that it only needed his kind tone to cheer me into a happier state. 

“ I have found kind friends everywhere,’ I said, with a slight motion towards the doctor, who was speechless over the ill luck that had befallen me. 

I am sorry to have been so much trouble to you”

“Trouble! You are with your own people now, and we are only too happy if we can be of service.” he said kindly, “ You must not mind about the possibility of someone getting around the world in less time than you may do it. You have had the worst connections it is possible to make and everybody knows that the idea originated with you, and that the others are merely trying to steal the work of your brain, so whether you get in before or later, people will give you the credit of having originated the idea.” 

“Good god, THANK YOU. That’s what I need to hear!”

Like a new tooth, the news broke through the skin of Nellie’s reality. She takes a deep breath. 

“energy rightly applied....”

She takes a breath and looks down at her shoes. This one pair of shoes has taken her all the way to China, and they will take her all around the world if she has anything to do about it. All the men are staring at her. She rolls her shoulders back and looks up. Mentally, she pumps herself back up like a boxer getting back into the ring. 

“ I promised my editor I would go around the world in 75 days, and if I accomplish that I shall be satisfied,” I stiffly explained. “ I am not racing with anyone. I would not race. If someone else wants to do the trip in less time, that is their concern, if they take it upon themselves to race against me, it is their lookout that they succeed. I am not racing. I promised to do the trip in 75 days and I will do it. Although I had been permitted to make the trip when I first proposed it over a year ago, I should have done it in 60 days!”

Now she had a fuel within her strong enough to change the axis of the earth. 

She makes up her mind. even if time was against her and technology got in her way. Boats were too slow and mail was still too far and few in between. Nelly Bly will not be outdone. The only thing she could control was herself. So if another woman was going to be in the race, Nelly will be the one to tell the story. 

For the second half of her trip, Nelly laces herself up and becomes all business. The lazy days on the ship was over. It was time to get back to work. She arranged for the transfer of her luggage and monkey with a straight face, and heads to her hotel. 

As she heads to her hotel, Nelly refuses all pleasantries and offers from others. The wife of a local Hong Kong gentleman offers her home to Nelly and after some back and forth and pleading and politely declining 

“despite her pleadings, I assured her I was not on a pleasure bend, but on business. I considered it my duty to refrain from social pleasures, devoting myself to things that lay more in the line of work.”

 When she got back to her hotel, she met a number of people 

“who were interested in my trip and were ready and anxious to do anything they could to contribute to my pleasure during my enforced Any dinners or stay having but one dress I refused to attend receptions that were proposed in my honor.”

Nellie doesn’t want anyone to get in her way.

Instead she has dinner on the Oriental Steamship. She feels more comfortable there. 

“As I bathed the cap and his officer's farewell, remembering their kindness to me, I had a wild desire to clinging to them, knowing that with the morning light, the Oriental would sail and I would be once again alone In strange lands with strange people,”

She held onto any familiarity she could, trying to choke down the uncertainty and impermanence, and ephemeral experiences of every day since she started this journey. 

Now, Nelly had more than enough time to sit in her feelings and do some sightseeing, and Mr. Furman continued to be a great host for her extended stay in Hong Kong.

Nellie Bly Explores Hong Kong

Over the next few days, Nelly did every sightseeing activity you're supposed to do in Hong Kong. She passes through the Happy Valley. This is a tiered multi-religious graveyard where Buddhists, Christians, Catholics, Muslims, Jews, locals and foreigners were buried. She toured through the beautiful jewelry stores on the Queens Road. She hiked up to Victoria's Peak. She saw a play of Alibaba and the 40 thieves while she was sitting in the theater, she chuckled to herself how two weeks ago she was in Dusty Aiden. It didn't seem so far away to her now. She then visited two temples and went for a pony ride. She witnesses the vast disparity between the wealthy and poor here. She passed by Chinese fortune tellers, or who she calls “professional writers”. And naturally stumbled into a wedding. 

“I saw a marriage procession in Hong Kong. A large band of musicians who succeeded in making themselves heard were followed by Cooley's, caring, curious looking objects in blue and guilt, which I was told represented mythical and historical scenes. A number of very elegant Chinese lanterns and gorgeous looking banners were also carried along.”

She wrote everything down in great detail all fueled by the thought of another woman racing her somewhere on the planet. But even after seeing all that there was to see is Hong Kong, Nellie still had time to kill.

“After seeing everything of interest in Hong Kong, So on Christmas Eve I started for the city of Canton.”

Christmas Eve

On Christmas Eve, Nelly got on the P&O ship headed to Canton. She was introduced to Captain Grogan, an American who had lived in China for years. 

“I was warned not to be surprised if the chinamen should stone me While I was in Canton, I was told that Chinese women usually spat in the faces of female tourists when the opportunity was offered.” 

Nelly could smell the burning of opium from the lower decks. After their dinner, she goes up to her happy place- the deck of a ship. Looking up. There was no moon on that warm Christmas Eve night 

“I went on deck where everything was buried in darkness, softly and steadily.The boat swam on. The only sound, the most refreshing and restful sounds in the world was the lapping of the water. To sit on a quiet deck, to have the starlet sky, the only light above or about to hear the water kissing the pro of the ship is to me paradise. They can talk of the companionship of men, the splendor of the sun, the softness of moonlight, the beauty of music. But give me a willow chair on a quiet deck and the world with its worries and noise and prejudices lost in the distance. The glare of the sun, the cold light of the moon, blotted out by the dark blackness of night. Let me rest. Rocking gently by the rolling sea in a nest of velvety darkness, only light the soft twinkling of the myriad of stars in the quiet sky above but away with dreams. This is a workaday world and I'm racing time around it.”

Nellie practices what she preached about not worrying anymore. She has reached the point where she feels more assured with her abilities and is comfortable moving through the chaos on her own. People can take her ideas, but no one else can tell her story. 

Newspapers  

HALFWAY ROUND THE WORLD IN 34 DAYS

A message received from the globetrotter yesterday, she send word that she will be in Hong Kong for Christmas Eve, four days ahead of sailing time

(51:54)

Nelly wakes up the next day on the boat and has breakfast with the other travelers who will be taking a local tour. Their local guide Ah Cum arrives. He was a flamboyant local guide who knew every nook and cranny of Canton and had been doing tours for 20 years and spoke perfect english. He was dressed in vibrant patterned silks. The first thing he said is

Marry Christmas! 

She tried not to think about her mom at home all alone in their apartment in frigid New York. But she appreciated A Cum’s sentement. And his dramatics distracted her. 

They all got off the boat and an army of sedan chairs were waiting for them. A comes sedan chair was a neat arrangement in black silk hangings, tassels, fringe, and blackwood poles finished with brass knobs. Everyone else sat in, rented willow chairs with ordinary covers. This was a man of refined taste from his mobile throne. Acom boasted how he had never left Canton. Out of the 500 million people living in China at the time, I could see why he wanted to stand out. Canton was his city and he was going to show them the best time around for foreigners. 

The first stop was Chamine, the neighborhood where Westerners lived. They passed through the streets, redilent of fish, human sweat, and Jost sticks. The writer in Nellie appreciated the street names: the street of the right cloud, street of the ascending dragon, the street of 100 grandsons, and the street of Ninefold Blessings, Street of 1000 Fold peace. These are way better names than Delancey, Broadway and Wall Street. 

“in each shop the front had a bookkeeper with tortoise shell rimmed glasses of an enormous size, which lent them to a look of tremendous wisdom. And in the back of each shop is an altar, gay in color, and often expensive in adornment. ACOM sees that they visit no shops where he has not paid his little fee.”

Nellie being on her trip of culture and business respects the man who also prioritizes culture and business. 

“The streets are so narrow. I thought at first I was being carried through the aisles of some great market awnings stretched over the streets as vertical signs of crimson and gold hung in the storefronts. When a come told me I was not in a market, but in the streets of the city of Canton, my astonishment knew no limit.” 

She noticed that some of the streets were dedicated to a single industry bur cards, fishmongers, jade merchants, silk sellers, the smell of joss sticks burning on every shop door brought her back to Chinatown. In New York, just a few narrow streets trying to replicate the comforts of home. They did their best to bring the most authentic parts of their homeland with them. The incense burned for all of the Chinese gods and idols as varied as their street names. The God of the somber heavens, the God of the southern seas, the God of happy wealth. In New York, these incense were nothing more than curios of another culture, but here they had context. Chinatown would always just be a town. It would grow and evolve and assimilate into its own beautiful community. But it is nothing like being in the motherland, marinating in the context and resources of how this culture evolved. 

They crossed over onto the Shain island where European styled buildings were surrounded by tropical Asian foliage with banyan trees bowing overhead. Boats slowly float by in the canals in the water, carrying baskets of fruits and vegetables. Then they turned to the corner and saw the American flag flying high 

“here For the first time since leaving New York, I saw the stars and stripes. It was floating over the gateway to the American consulate. It is a strange fact that the further one goes from home, the more loyal one becomes. I felt I was a long way off from my own deer land. It was Christmas day and I had seen so many different countries since I last gazed upon our own. The moment I saw it floating there in the soft, lazy breeze, I took off my cap and said, that is the most beautiful flag in the whole”

One would think that since she is a news reporter and legally has no rights back home, she would have a more critical eye on the American system back home. Yet she cannot help this strange surge of pride that always comes up for air when you have been away from it for so long. No matter how flawed your mother country is, it will always be your home.  Her heart tightened as she longed for her home and to be with her family today, but the tour kept moving. As Nelly went through the streets, she thought about that gross stereotype about Chinese women. 

“However, I had no trouble. They showed no sign of animosity, but the few women I met looked as curiously as me and less kindly. The thing that seemed to interest the people most about me were my gloves. Sometimes they would be bold enough to touch them and they would always gaze upon them. With looks of wonder.”

 They left the island and returned to the tight and winding streets of Canton. Ah Cum led them through the streets until they arrived at a shop where women were arranging pottery, Ah Cum dismounted and everyone followed suit. He leads them through a crooked back alley that opens up to another yard lined by high stone walls with the sun beating down on them. City noise is hush and the space grows quiet.

“Why are we here?” 

Nellie feels an ominous energy that she can’t place. 

“I noticed the ground in one place was very red, and when I asked Ah Cum about it, he said indifferent as he kicked up the red colored earth with his white soul shoes, 

“it's blood. 11 men were beheaded here yesterday”

Nelly was standing in an execution ground. He added that it was an ordinary thing for 10 to 20 criminals to be executed at one time and roughly 400 prisoners a year. He went on about the taping rebellion. In 1885, 50,000 rebels were beheaded and locals could smell death a half a mile away. 

Oh goodness!

In the corner of the yard was a cross leaning against a high stone wall. It looked like a crucifixion cross. But before she could even ask Ah Cum blankly said, 

“when women are condemned to death in China, they are bound to the wooden cross and cut into pieces. Men are beheaded in one stroke unless they're the worst kinds of criminals, and then they're given the death of a woman to make it more dis. When they are cut into bits, it is done so deftly that they are entirely dismembered and disempowered before they are dead.”

Nelly felt a shiver waggle down her spinal cord and unconsciously began to twirl the ring on her finger before Nelly could even register what she was learning, Ah Cum says, “would you like to see some heads”

as if he was offering to show people some of that pottery? 

“I thought that the Chinese guide could tell as large stories as any other guide. So I said, coldly certainly bring on your heads. I tipped a man as he told me, with the clay of the pottery on his hands. Went to some barrels which stood near the wooden crosses, put in his hand and pulled out a head. The barrels were filled with lime, and as the criminals are beheaded, their heads are thrown into the barrels and when the barrels become full, they empty them out and get a fresh supply.”

Nellie touches her neck. She feels dizzy. I doubt this was how Nelly anticipated spending her Christmas. Where everyone back in New York was waking up under the smell of pine and candles and presents. She was staring at a pickled head of a decapitated Chinese criminal. 

Ah Cum then leads them towards a jailhouse, not placed too far away from the execution grounds. Nelly was surprised to see all of the doors open. 

“When I got inside and saw all the prisoners with thick, heavy boards fastened about their necks, I no longer felt surprised at the doors being un barred.There was no need for locking them. The prisoners were unable to lie down or rest their heads on the floor, which led them to exhaustion. Their eyes were wide and milky from lack of sleep.”

 This made Nelly wanna sit down. Instead, she unconsciously reached up and touched her neck, which thankfully was still intact. Nearby was a courthouse, a large square stone paved building. Nelly noticed a group of judges in a small room off to the side smoking opium, which was brought on those p and o ships that Nelly and Liz were using to race around the world. In another room, judges were playing fann tan. They wandered into the back of the courthouse to see local torture devices as two theaves chainted two poles passed by who were about ot have every bone in their body broken. And now a palate cleanser. Ah Cum had the group gather and head to the temples in Canton. There are over 800 temples to visit walking through the streets of benevolence and love and out of all the temples they could have visited, AK brought them to the temple of Horrors. 

Didn't we just do that? 

Outside beggars cried for alms. Nelly passes them by to stare at the carvings of Buddhist hell. A man being saw in half a demonn attacking him, someone being boiled in oil, others being stabbed. You know the usual. She tells Ah Cum she is going to the other temple and he tells her the next two stops are a confusions school, a leper colony, and the temple of the dead. He sure knows how to keep raising the stakes. Nellie tries to see something calming...so as she enters the temple of 500 gods.

Out of all of the temples she would see on this trip, Nelly thought that this building was the most impressive. It was small, but filled with hundreds of golden Buddhas sitting at eye level. Some were smiling, others were calm and contemplative, and somewhere around that building was a professional writer telling people's fortunes Nelly needed something to distance herself from the bizarre events that had transpired that day. So she approached the fortune teller. She must have had some type of translator because they spoke in English. He asked her if she was superstitious and she says yes, and he says that he will perform a lucky pigeon ritual where he circles a blessed piece of wood around her and then drops it. Pigeons in China are seen as symbols of good luck and wealth. Nellie will remember that the next time one poops on her window sile. He explained If one side of the luck pigeon turns up, it meant good luck and if it turned the other way, it meant bad luck 

Nellie thinks, “I could use some good luck right about now.” 

“placing some jost sticks in a copper jar before the luck God, he took from the table two pieces of wood, worn, smooth, and dirty from frequent use, which placed together were not unlike a pear in shape with this wood. He called it the luck pigeon healed with two flat sides” 

The whole time. The fortune teller is swirling the pigeon over the joss sticks. Nelly is thinking about her trip. Her delay in Ceylon. The monsoon and harassment in the south china sea. The news another woman is racing her. How ridiculous. How was that possible?! She hopes that she will make it back under 75 days and beat this other woman. Then the man drops the luck pigeon and she watches as gravity takes over. She holds her breath, tries not to get her hopes up, but her life feels so topsy turvy as the wood being flown around in front of her. They tumble and splay out onto the ground. The man looks down and furrows his brow. Then he brings his head up to look at Nelly. She takes a big breath in and watches as a smile spreads across his face. The wood is in the shape of good luck.

Listen to Episode Seven Part 2 here: Apple Podcasts and Spotify

December 13th- 18th: Thirty-one days out from New York, Elizabeth Bisland arrives in Hong Kong. She is lucky because she has friends in Hong Kong who show her the best parts of the city. She hikes mountains, explores markets, and indulges in every pleasure. Something shifts in Elizabeth Bisland, and she starts wishing that she could stay longer in every places she explores on her flying trip around the world.

Credits

Narrated by Adrien Behn

Father Time was played by Jake Dingman  

Resources

80 Days by Mathew Goodman

Around the World in 72 Days: The Race Between Pulitzer's Nellie Bly and Cosmopolitan's Elizabeth Bisland by Jason Marks

A Race Around the World: The True Story of Nellie Bly and Elizabeth Bisland by Caroline Starr Rose (Author), Alexandra Bye (Illustrator)

Newspapers.com

Sounds

Freesounds.org 

Soundstripe.com 

Epidemic sounds 

Blue Dot Sessions

Magnolias

The Botany of Magnolias, by Philip Evich, Smithsonian Gardens, March 2021

HISTORY OF MAGNOLIAS by Charles Williams, Caerhays Estate, November 2023

Revealed: The First Flower, 140-million Years Old, Looked Like a Magnolia, by Mario Vallejo-Marin, Scientific American, The Conversation US,  August 2017

The Big Bloom—How Flowering Plants Changed the World, by Michael Klesius, National Geographic, 2021

Earth's first flower was pollinated by insects: world-first research, by Ruby E. Stephens, Lighthouse, June 2023

Women in China

Women in Ancient China, by Mark Cartwright, Worldhistory, October 2017

Women in Ancient and Imperial China, Wikipedia Editors, Wikipedia, updated November 2023

Three Obediences and Four Virtues, Wikipedia Editors, Wikipedia, updated November 2023

Three Obediences and Four Virtues, By Ashlesha Patil, Berkshire Publishing, January 2012

Transcript

When the continents were closer together, the world was green. For millions of years, landmasses were shades of jade, emerald, and pine. Until one of the plants bloomed. A mutation, a freak of nature. A plant that was supposed to make a leaf accidentally created a peddle. And the trend took off. Over the next hundred million years, one by one, flowers started to pop out of the thick green landscape. A time lapse. Looks like someone is turning up the saturation filter on Earth's forests. The color spectrum is just being born. Pinks, blues, oranges are purple, yellow, red. It looks like a massive rainbow fell from the sky, cracked on to the ground and no one cleaned it up.

Flowers become a permanent fixture on our planet, just in time for dinosaurs to trample on them. And the original mother, the eve of flowers, supposedly resembles the modern magnolia blossom. It's believed that this flowering tree was one of the first of its kind, and it made its way along the supercontinent. The magnolia tree is so old it predates bees. Instead, the plant seduced beetles into their bosom blossoms. But things fall apart. Relationships change and plate tectonics move as Pangea cracks and separates. Each new continent took a magnolia with them, like dividing up a silverware set between parting roommates. Since then, the magnolia tree has evolved with each separate landmass. Each one adapted to its new surroundings. Some are like shrubs, and others reach 80 feet tall. They vary from shades of ivory to pink or lavender. Some petals are thin like fingers, others as thick as hands. Today, on our seven separate continents, the magnolia tree is one of the oldest remaining species of the land before time. They carry the memory of a massive island when animals didn't have to cross oceans. And when our world was one. 

And there is one woman who is so grateful to see the varieties of the magnolia. Thousands of miles from home. Staring up at the white paddles. Although it is different on the other side of the planet, it reminds her of the ones that she sat under as a child and wrote poetry. 

I’m Adrien Behn and this is Strangers Abroad: A Race Around the World: Based on the true story of Elizabeth Bisland. 

ELIZABETH BISLAND HEADS TO HONG KONG 

Liz sails along the East China Sea from Hong Kong to Singapore and from Japan to China.

On the days that Nelly is in Penang and Singapore, Liz is also ready to take a breath from constant travel. And Liz isn’t having a daydreamy ride the way Nellie is. For the five days she travels the south china sea from Yokohama and Hong Kong, the ocean rages.

She comes in the night and beats thunderously with her great fists upon our doors. She leaps to look over our bulwarks. She roars with wrath and will not be appeased. 

Back to counting the slats above her bed again. 

I find that bodily I am proof now against seasickness, but my temper has a violent attack of mal de mer. It makes me bitterly cross to go leaping and plunging about the ship, not to be able to keep my seat, and to gradually collect my souple and entrese in my lap. 

Finally, the waters calm and turn into a sparkling emerald green as they sail closer to the doorway to China. 

“HONG KONG. I like the name of my next port. It has a fine clangorous significance like two slow loud notes of some great brazen lunged bell - Hong Kong...we descry again on the horizon the bamboo wings of the fishing and coasting junks. These sails are somewhat larger and deeper in hue than those of Japan and still more resemble the fans of giant yellow and russet butterflies.” 

Liz is 31 days out from New York and finally in China, the other side of the planet. Liz's ship slips into the Pearl River Delta and the Amethyst Island grows in more detail. This island city is surrounded by Violet mountains dotted in evergreens that cut off right at the busy water's edge. 

It is one of the most beautiful harbors in the world, the water winding deeply inland between the hills, and flowing around island mountains ringed with girdles of foam.”

Liz's ship sails through the jade waters and passes the giant fishing junks with bamboo masts and flapping yellow sails. All around the harbor are tall, thin islands sticking up out of the water like thumbs. Massive cargo steamers and larger European military ships owned by the Russian, French and British. Hong Kong is only ten square miles large. But this patch of land floating off of China has as much economic significance as the country at large. 

The island of Hong Kong is a cluster of lofty, abrupt hills with scanty vegetation seized by England in 1842 after a struggle with China. 

Which is a grand oversimplification, but it is why there are so many British warships idling in the harbor. 

“The English have elevated the village into a flourishing city and made it the fourth shipping port of the world. The harbor is navigated for the largest merchant vessels and men of war in existence and is perfectly sheltered and easy to access. 

Liz takes in the salty air and sighs with relief that she gets to be here for five days. A real break from all of this adventure. And it's here that Liz will not be a total stranger because by beautiful coincidence, she has friends here- a German couple. Her endless socializing paid off. Her German friends send her their private steam launch, and when she gets in the boat she analyzes the local women’s attire. 

The Chinese woman of the working class, decided centuries ago on the divided skirt... She clothes herself in a pair of wide black trousers, a loose tunic, jade earrings and cocksolde shoes and is ready for all the emergencies of life. 

And when Liz docks, one of them was waiting for her in her personal sedan chair. Liz falls into her friend's arms and gives her a huge hug as the crowd of travelers move around them. This is the kind of welcome she wishes she could have had at every port. After a month of traveling, Liz is so happy to see a familiar face.

She looks at these new modes of transportation. 

Sedan chairs are totally different from rickshaws in Japan. Liz’s friend sits in her personal upholstered armchair trim with silver and two long bamboo poles threaded through the bottom. There are no wheels. The bamboo poles rest on the shoulders of two, sometimes four men in loose black pants and white cotton tunics. 

As Liz hesitantly hops up on her sedan chair, she does feel her cells relax because she's near someone familiar for the first time in a month. Liz and her friend weave through the narrow old neighborhoods made of native stone. Liz notices so many different kinds of sedan chairs. All of these bobbing chairs look like a moveable feast which the upper class can afford, can look down and shield themselves from the gaze and stench of the commoner. 

Liz feels a little weird being carried around by four people, but she does appreciate the distance from the overwhelming smell of opium and joss sticks, and she has a quick flashback to being in the theater in San Francisco's chinatown. 

She sways from side to side and gazes down as people move around her. Liz loves the tropical appeal of the city. 

The verdure is magnificent; the town is submerged in it and flowers are everywhere. 

It was a blend of New York hustle with tropical esthetics and an Asian flair. It's thick with vegetation. Heliotrope bougainvillea tumbles over walls that lined the long and massive staircases around the city. Orchids overrun the sidewalks like weeds. She overhears so many languages and conversations. Liz gazes at the wide range of different faces old, wrinkled women, Chinese merchants walking about in silk gowns with their hands tucked away in their loose sleeves. She tilts her head up and sees Macanese locals, people of Chinese and Portuguese dissent, peering down from their balconies in front of bamboo blinds. 

Liz takes a long gaze as the people of the lost tribes pass her by and are swallowed up by the crowd before they arrive home. 

And out of all the chaos, one man stands out to her. A tall, gorgeous, dramatically dressed man caught her eye.

“At the corner stands a hotty, jeweled eyed prince of immense stature straight and life as a palm and whose high features bronze continents are unfathomable of pride and passion. He wears a soldier's dress and a sword, and a huge scarlet turban of the most intricate convolution. I cried out with astonishment at the sight of the superb creature. Is that an emperor I demanded in breathless admiration, an emperor. He's only seek policeman. There are hundreds about the place. Quite as superb as he.”

Liz’s eyes fill with hearts. She feels a heat swell in her body and not because of the tropical air. Her head swivels and stays locked on handsome police officer as her sedan chair pulls him further away from her. At the sight of his broad chest, strong legs in those kaki pants, red turban and long sword at his hip. She bites her lower lip and thinks, if these were the police officers, what would the princes look like? 

And then the Scottish regiments walked by. 

“The strategic importance of Hong Kong is so great that four or five war ships are always in its harbor or cruising into the neighborhood, and two full regiments are kept. In garrison, Scottish regimens wear white jackets and helmets with their kilts. In this heat, they are being put through a rapid and vigorous drill. 

Liz watches them do military exercises as they work up a sweat in their army uniforms.

One morning when we pass the parade ground and pipes are shrilling scurry music to stir the heart in which runs the smallest drop of Scottish blood. Not even the Sikh policemen stand first in my affections at this moment. Oh, bronze sight. Oh, bony lads Scotland forever.”

The heat is already getting to her.

It's at moments like this where she wishes she had months to simmer in each place she visits. Liz makes a quick stop at the Great Northern Telegraph Company to tell Cosmo that she has arrived in Hong Kong. She then hops back on her sedan chair and begins the long ascent to her friend's home. 

Her friend's home is snug on a jungly hill overlooking the city. And these poor drivers had to slug all of Liz's luggage and her body up those massive hills. Next door to her friend's house is a light blue all girls-school run by the portuguese. Her young Chinese girls are taught the sweet decency of life and pretty feminine arts. By now, Hong Kong is its own separate entity from China. It goes by its own economy and its own rules. But I can't imagine that the customs and ideas around Chinese women changed overnight. Historically, women in ancient China did not have any kind of social status. Females are subjected to the three followings. First, you follow your father, then your husband, then your son. And you better have a son. Or else no one is going to take care of you. A woman's role is to serve whichever male relative is in charge of her well-being at the time. If a family doesn't have sons, the wife is seen as broken, even though it's sperm that determines sex. Although Liz cannot vote in her country and has limited rights, at least she is not socially tied to her father or is pressured to have a son until she dies. Although Liz is restricted in her homeland, at least she has some freedom to travel the world. 

Liz then turns into the driveway of her friend's apartment and makes herself at home. Her friend's home has impeccable taste. Rooms, heavily draped in dark velvets and marble furniture. Photos of the Prussian royal family adorn every room. Liz is escorted into a huge bedroom with her own private stone bathroom. Honestly, it's big enough to be her Manhattan apartment. It reminds her of the space that homes have in the South. The freedom to stretch your whole body out and not bump into someone or something. Just outside her window is the view of the city. Liz steps outside to take the whole scene in. She sees all the small people moving about at a distance. Little lights twinkle as the night begins to fall. The small island mountains are stoic in the bay. Surrounded by rusting ships of war. She is getting the hang of all of this international travel. 

Day 33 Elizabeth Bisland Explores Hong Kong 

Liz wakes up excited to explore Hong Kong. She loves that she has a few days to sink her teeth into this city. Well, at least the western version of Hong Kong. Many of the British ports are bifurcated between local areas and where the Europeans took root. So first, Liz and her friends take their sedan chairs down to the native area where Liz quickly discovers that any Chinatown she explores back in America will always be a watered down version of the original. The air is hotter down here on sea level than in the hills, and it's thick with pungent smells of metropolitan life. At the time, Hong Kong is unbelievably dense. It's estimated that 1600 people live in one acre! More dense than the Lower East Side. 

“the town is growing and prosperous. The shops, hotels, clubs, and counting houses are handsome stone buildings surrounded with deep arcade like verandas, surrounded by pointed archers, their large shipyards and vessels afloat. The export trade in cotton tea, silk, spices, and rice is enormous and the place develops year by year.” 

They pass butcher shops with ducks hanging from their necks, the smell of soy sauce, fish balls and tea eggs perfumes the open air markets. Sidewalks are also dining areas where men sit at long tables with chopsticks deep in their bowls and sit on small benches. Long vertical sides hang above their heads in Chinese characters. The streets are a little more chaotic here than the streets of calm and quiet Japan. Liz rides high above the chaos and had a balcony seat to the vicissitudes of daily life. 

But liz is more interested in the plant life around her. 

“At this season is of Eden heirs of paradise wave through the splendid tropical foliage....My friends are loathed that I should lose a single pleasure and we are out all day in this a adorable weather. One of the paths lie through the green twilight of the botanical gardens filled with such vegetation as I have always regarded with a doubting eye....we pass under the tremendous lacy shadows of ferns. 20 feet high through trellis weighed with ponderous vines that blow a myriad of perfumed purple trumpets up to the golden noon and emerge on sunny spaces where fountains are sprinkling silver rain. Upon banks of crimson and orange flowers.”

They end their day of exploration with another view of the city. They trek up to a popular peak 2000 feet above sea level. Liz gets into a little tram that pulls itself on the side of a mountain at a 45 degree angle, chugging up along like the little engine that could. The higher they get, the wider her view becomes of the city and mountains around her. They pass resorts and beautiful Italian styled bungalows clinging to the steps like plants latching to boulders. She feels the cool wind on her face as they pass a thousand feet above sea level and then 2000. Finally, they get to the top and the first thing she sees is construction of a summer hotel. But she finds one spot to look at the scenic view. 

“We can see from here how the water flows between the hills and how the barber broadens to bayes and narrows to straits between the island mountains. Only at rio janeiro and sydney they tell me is there a harbor whose beauty compares to this. 

Liz takes it all in. The vibrant eastern world. The quiet harmony from up top. As Liz stands overlooking the city and the oceans and islands around it, with mainland China just to the north, she feels as big as the mountain itself. She is really on top of the world and can take anything on. She is so far from home, and farther than her dreams could have ever taken her. The bird is no longer caged. She dials into a vibrancy of the universe. As they turn around and make the long way down the mountain, something shifts within Liz. Fueled by endorphins and adrenaline, she enters a trance. 

During the first stage we are in full sunlight, passing under the walls of the white palace like bungalows...then the road the earth here is a thousand beautiful shades of buff and rose, and we pass into the shadows.

They slowly pass the bungalows with tennis courts tucked away behind them, close to a tiny Greek church. And behind the church is a sparsely populated graveyard that clings to the side of the hill. She meditates in the sound of the ocean below her, around the foot of the hills. A great, pure, calm ring where we sink into this cool flood of darkness. 

“a great pure calm rings where we sink into this cool flood of darkness. I know all of this. I remember it well somewhere. Once I passed through such shattery ways in the warm nights, the silent piece of darkness after a long hours of burning light is quite familiar to me. I try to recall where it was, but it was a long, long, long time ago, and I have forgotten the name of the place and the people who lived there. I only remember that I used to pass under the great trees that some wonderful secret delight waited for me beyond them ales. That was very long ago.”

Liz taps into a meditative state, deja vu or a past life. Whatever, she connects to a frequency that she has never felt before. Her senses expand and she catches a glimps of a frequency of the universe. 

Elizabeth Bisland Meets the Rich Side of Hong Kong

December 16th on her third night there. She gets to experience the richer side of life in Hong Kong. Her friends introduce her to a man who is a walking metaphor of Hong Kong itself: Cat Chick Carter, a man of many names and businesses. He is a British subject, a resident in China, born in India and has a mix of Greek and Armenian blood through his veins. He's lived in Hong Kong for 20 years and has made a fortune in a little bit of everything from shipyards to manufacturing. Mr. Carter joins Liz’s friends at their home one day for tiffin. Liz can tell he is one of the hearts that keeps Hong Kong thriving. 

And Mr. Carter takes one look at Liz and says he would like to take her to the pleasure dome. Now, unfortunately, this is not a euphemism. It's an actual building that he was trying to create. It may sound like a Victorian orgy house, but it's actually just a glorified dining hall. Mr. Carter is remaking the pleasure dome that Genghis Khan built as one of his summer homes as he Lord Asia survived as his empire roared through Asia. Mr. Carter says he would love nothing more than to bring Liz there the next day. The plan is set. 

Elizabeth Bisland Goes to the Pleasure Dome

In the afternoon of Liz’s final day in Hong Kong, she and her friends find themselves in the womb of the pleasure dome. 

“A lordy pavilion set on the crest of many flowering terraces surrounded by the view of the sea and satan- leafed tropical foliage. The center of the pavilion is a great banquet hall with a domed roof 30 feet out above the tessellated pavement. The walls are frescoed in that same deep cream color. The exterior touched here and there with rose, blue and gold. It was surrounded by roses and had windows to the green waters of the harbor. At each end of the banquet hall opened a drawing room set with mirrors and lined with divon.Here coons guests come by twenties and fifties and feast splendidly on high days and holidays and on hot star light tropical nights. It's like the sumptuous fancy of a splendid Romen noble.” 

But the place was still under construction. So they went back to his place and ate through many courses and drank many costly wines. Liz wishes that she could have stayed long enough to enjoy the space after it was built. And for a moment, she curses this race. Why does she have to rush? But this is a true rule of travel. You will always meet the coolest people and go to the best places the day before you leave. And eventually. Liz five days in Hong Kong. We're up. Liz starts to feel herself become one of the most interesting women on teh planet- she can get used to all of this travel- she feels like the best parts of herself when she is exploring. 

Day 34. December 18th

While Liz has been taking it easy in the pleasure dome, JBW had been looking for ways to hurry Liz along. On the morning of December 18th,  Liz will be getting on the large and luxurious steamship the Pression, which will take her all the way to Genoa, Italy. However, j BW had been working hard to convince the owners of the pression to surpass its fastest time. He offered them a, quote, substantial reward. And now, with the right incentives, the owners of the Prussian predicted that they could get to Genoa five days ahead of schedule. This sets Liz up to be back in New York by January 26th, ending the race in 73 days. 

All of this is set in motion the morning of the 18th. The bribes are offered. Bags are packed as the procession is being inspected. Liz doesn't feel as heartbroken about leaving Hong Kong as she did Japan, but she is sad to leave her friends. To her knowledge, she won't be seeing anyone else she already knows for another 40 plus days. But she got to go to China. She got to be in a new place on the other end of the planet. She got to enjoy another culture, a new city, and meet incredible new people. 

Everyone she met came to see her off, 

surrounded by the charming friends and acquaintances of this Hong Kong episode who have come to give me a final proof of their goodness and wish me speed on my journey. 

But not so fast as the ship is being inspected. A problem is found. The person had lost a screw to a blade propeller. This was a common yet annoying accident. This one small piece of metal renders the ship and all of its passengers stranded. The ship has to be towed into the port and fixed on land. So when word reaches Elizabeth, she doesn't wallow or curse the fates or look at it as a sign to stay in Hong Kong. She hustles with all of her bags and trunks to the local P.A. offices, the same company that got her across the Pacific. Panting, Liz explains the predicament. 

I need to get on a boat to Singapore immediately, and I need to be back in York in 41 days!

At the desk, the officer suggested the Tims, a British male boat of the P.A. line, which is to leave that day for Colombo, Ceylon. It isn't as nice as the Prussian would have been, but Liz has a job to do. With her ticket to the Thames in one hand, she writes a telegraph to Cosmo in the other. All the while being weighed down by her luggage, sweating. 

Within minutes, she finds herself on the deck of the Thames, surrounded by more handsome men from India in red turbans and Scottish sailors in their kilts on their way back to Britain. One of the sailors' friends dance around him and play bagpipes on a humid Hong Kong day. In spite of the heat. The bell warns all of them away. 

I wave goodbye to my friends and to the beautiful city with the keenest regret. The fifth stage of my journey has begun under the shadow of Union Jack. 

The Thames mail boat is faster than the Prussian. Which is great because from now on, the dial is being turned up on the race. Liz's long stops and daydreaming in cities are over. She is well-rested for the second half of her journey and will need to muster the strength to see it through. Headed to Singapore, and on her way, she will pass her competitor and reach her midpoint. 

Listen to Episode Seven Part 1 here: Apple Podcasts and Spotify

December 13th- 16th: Nellie Bly is anxious as her steamship crosses through the Bay of Bengal and the Straits of Malacca to make up for lost time.

In these few days, she does make progress. She touches down in two ports in Malaysia: Penang and Singapore. 

While in Singapore, she analyzes how different cultures express the human experiences in vastly different ways. She compares and contrasts her normal to those on the other side of the planet and makes a very impulsive purchase.

But to her delight, she has reached her mid-point, and Nellie Bly is officially halfway around the world.

Credits

Narrated by Adrien Behn

Father Time was played by Jake Dingman  

Resources

80 Days by Mathew Goodman

Around the World in 72 Days: The Race Between Pulitzer's Nellie Bly and Cosmopolitan's Elizabeth Bisland by Jason Marks

A Race Around the World: The True Story of Nellie Bly and Elizabeth Bisland by Caroline Starr Rose (Author), Alexandra Bye (Illustrator)

Newspapers.com

Sounds

Freesounds.org 

Soundstripe.com 

Epidemic sounds 

Blue Dot Sessions

Trees

The Oldest Tree in the World, by Summer Price, Trees Atlanta, 2023

How Many Trees Are There On Earth, Green Earth Editors green.earth.com, December 2021

How Trees Changed the World, By James O'Donoghue, New Scientist, November 2007

In the Age of Dinosaurs, The Trees Were Giants Too, by Mike, everythingdinosaur.com, 2018

The World's First Trees Grew by Splitting Their Guts, by Dennis Normile, Smithsonian, October 2017

The First Trees, Trees Inside Out,

Evolution of the Atmosphere, by J.M. Hayes, Britannica, updated October 2023

Women in Malaysia

Women in Singapore, by Wikipedia Editors, Wikipedia, updated November 2023

Women in Malaysia, by Wikipedia Editors, Wikipedia, updated November 2023

Against Multiple Hegemonies: Radical Malay Women in Colonial Malaya, by Syed Muhd Khairudin Aljunied, Journal of Social History, Oxford Press, Fall 2013

Female Immigrants and Labor in Colonial Malaya: 1860-1947, by Sharon M. Lee, The International Migration Review, Oxford Press, Summer, 1989

The Spread of Islam in Southeast Asia through the Trade Routes, UNESCO

THE STATUS OF MALAY WOMEN IN MALAYSIA: FROM CULTURE TO ISLAM AND INDUSTRIALIZATION, by WAZIR-JAHAN KARIM, International Journal of Sociology of the Family, Oxford Press, Spring 1987

Transcript

Intro:

When the continents were closer together, the world was green. For millions of years, carbon dioxide and volcanic gases dominated our atmosphere, choking out any chance of life to emerge. Somehow, small water-dwelling organisms evolved to live off of the sun's rays through photosynthesis. They grew, and eventually, these spore-like, slimy plants, slunk out of the ocean. They captured the sun's rays and turned it into food. And with their first slurp of the sun, they exhaled the first puff of oxygen. Their eating was ravenous. An all you can eat buffet, during the daylight hours. So much so that after X years of chowing down on the sun, our atmosphere completely transformed. The toxic fumes subsided and other little creatures began to crawl out of the water and inhale for the first time. Plants left the ground floor and stretched into trees and covered any landmass that would take them: the massive sequoias, chunky baobabs, gorgeous ginkgos, slinky palm trees, and prickly pine trees. Their roots intertwined. They collaborate with fungi. They share nutrients and secrets of what's going on around them. The collaboration of all these trees turns into a single living breathing organism covering thousands of acres. The 100 feet sequoias in California, the ancient 

From the Adirondacks to the Amazon, cities were built and made homes for birds, animals, and insects.

Our lungs fill with the purified exhalation of trees. We exchange our own breath for it. Sucking in carbon dioxide in exchange for oxygen. We owe our existence to them. And in 1889, there is one woman who really needs to take a breath and be present. because she's been traveling nearly halfway around the world and her journey is far from over. 

I'm Adrien Behn, and this is Strangers Abroad: A Race Around the World. Based on the True Story of Nellie Bly. 

December 13th: Nellie Bly Heads to Malaysia

On December 13th, Nellie Bly is getting closer to her midpoint. She is on the move again and cutting through the Bay of Bengal. Nellie is still feeling agitated about her delay in Ceylon. She feels like she is sailing in place as her destination is being pulled further away from her. But at this time of year, the trade winds are in her favor and will hopefully make up for her extended layover. But the heat isn’t helping her mood. With each passing hour, the liquid mercury rises as Nellie's ship heads further south towards the equator. When she goes up on deck, it feels the water vapor hanging in the air, suction cup to her skin. The sky here is blinding. The mirrors fog up. Cabin keys begin to rust and Nellie's hair gets that crazy humidity curl. Although the ship is going fast, everyone on the boat slows down. Just walking up on deck felt like trudging through sand. Laziness takes over. Which feels unnatural to Nellie. She wants the thrill- traveling can't be boring?! This is the kind of break that she longed for back in her bedroom when she had this idea. And now here she is on the opposite end of the planet with no ideas to come up with, no edits to go through, no costumes to switch. All she has to do is lie there as herself. Nellie has gotten what she wished for and has to accept every quick transfer and mundane moment as she lies on deck shaded by her sunhat. She cannot fight the heat. Even the sun is telling her to conserve some energy. She still has half of her journey to finish. 

For days, Nellie sees nothing but the blue waters. They shimmer around her as the sun's reflection dances on the waves. On the fourth day,

December 16th: Nellie Bly Explores Penang 

The morning of December 16th, 32 days out, Nellie’s ship enters the harbor of Penang, the economic hub of Malaysia. Now Nelly is in the middle of Asia. 

First, the ship stops over to fuel on the island of Penang, a tiny island just barely detached from mainland Malaysia with bluish green hills that roll right into the water's edge, bleeding into white sand beaches under a periwinkle sky and a golden sun. So when Nelly arrives in Penang, not surprisingly, it is a British port. This tiny island makes up for its small perimeter in height, with large mountains in the center of the island. One can easily see the whole island in a day. But to Nelly's delight, they don't have that kind of time. They need to get to Singapore before nightfall. So as the anchor in the harbor, Nelly isn't the only one who is anxious about the delay in Ceylon. The captain of the island, he also wants to make up for lost time. So he tells his passengers that they only have 6 hours to explore the island before heading to Singapore. 

Great. Let's make a rapid turnaround. 

Nelly has made a few new friends on this ship and ventures into town with a Welsh doctor named Dr. Brown. Together, they took a sand pan to Georgetown, the main port city on the island, filled with two story white buildings and red rooftops. As they touch the mainland, the light is sharp. Large billowing clouds take up the sky and feather back behind the lush forest. 

Nellie and Dr. Brown hire a rickshaw that takes them to the nearby hills. Instead of exploring the town, they take a ride into the jungle to see a waterfall. The sounds of the busy port and city fall away as the trees get denser and taller. The smell of saltwater is replaced by fresh mountain air as Nelly and Dr. Brown ride higher and deeper into the hills. The forest atmosphere cools their bodies and takes the edge off the humidity. It smells so fresh. Nelly takes a big inhale as they are pulled into the unspoiled forest. The horse and carriage plod along through a white mist that trickles through the trunks and branches of thick sub montane oak laurels and lanky coconut trees covered in fern groves. Dappled light drips through the thick canopy above their heads until they reach the tropical garden that circles the rushing waterfall. And after all of that effort, when Nellie takes her first look at the waterfall, she is not impressed. 

The picturesque waterfall is nothing marvelous. It only made me wonder from whence it procured its water supply. But after walking until I was much heated, I concluded that the cost of the waterfall secret was not worth the fatigue it would cost. 

She stands there with her arms crossed as the water rushes down into a pool at her feet. Nellie Bly is blase about being halfway around the world, standing in front of a beautiful waterfall on a majestic island off the coast of Asia, which took her a month to get to, and she may never return. And she doesn't seem to care. 

This is so tedious. 

Nellie needs stakes and characters, not a landscape. Which is probably why they stopped at a Hindu temple and a joss house on their way down the mountain. 

“A Chinese Joss house, the first I had ever seen, was very interesting. The pink and white roof curved like a canoe, was ornamented with animals tribe of the dragon tribe with their mouths open and their tales in the air. The strangling worshipers could be plainly seen from the streets through the arcade sides of the temples. Chinese lanterns and guilt ornaments made gay the dark interior.”

Worshipers huddled around the altar, the haze of the smoldering incense coils up around them, burning wishes for wealth and prosperity, fertility and luck clouded around the group. Once they are done taking in the temple scenes, Nellie and Dr. Brown walks over to a koi fish pond nearby, then some priests exit the temple and walk over to them. Their shaved heads glistening in the heat and their old gold silk robes flow around them

“When we were looking at the goldfish ponds. One came forth and taking me by the hand gracefully led me to where they were gathered. They indicated their wish that we should sit with them and drink tea, milk less and sugarless from China like cups, they handed out tiny cups the size of thimbles. We were unable to exchange words, but we smiled. Liberal smile at one another.” 

As she has traversed around the world, she passes by thousands of people who she will never be able to converse with. All of these people she is separated by because of her language. She scrunches her lips and furrows her brow. She takes another sip of tea and smiles at the monks again. At least smiling is universal. She takes a big breath and sighs as she tilts her cup back and drinks the last drop of tea.

Nellie gets so engrossed in this interaction that she loses track of time, for once. As Nelly's mood starts to shift, so does the wind. The air suddenly cools and grows stronger. A storm is arriving. Nelly and Dr. Brown makes an about face and hustle back to the shore. 

Just as she's starting to enjoy herself... She checks her watches on her right wrist. They hope that the captain and his impatient mood and the impending storm will wait out just a little bit longer. They hit the shore and jump right into a smooth wooden sand pan. As they near the boat, they see all of the Lasker sailors shoveling coal into the ship at top speed. The bay gets rougher, Waves start to punch their small boats. Right. As both of Nelly's feet touch the deck, the captain orders the ship to sail off. Nelly was minutes away from missing this boat altogether. Nelly leans over the edge of the boat for one last look at Penage. She watches the small green island lose its light and sparkle as clouds rush in and cast long shadows. Another stop checked off. Fueled and ready to go. The pilot is almost about to pull out of the harbor when the coolies on board cry that not all of their shipmates had made it back. So the ship waits for a tugboat to go out and pull them back in, fighting against the ferocious waters. 

Now on the water again, Nelly continues to sail closer to the equator. Singapore is Nellie's true halfway point and the furthest latitudinal line she will hit. As they glide closer to the equator, Nelly prays that they will land in the harbor before nightfall and be back on the waters in no time, a worry that flaps through her head as fast as the fan she uses to cool herself. During the ride, she avoids the heat from the deck and stays in her cabin. Now only a hundred miles over the equator, the air becomes so thick, the heat becomes so intense, it feels like she is inhaling the steam that rises from a boiling pot of water.

Nelly spends the afternoon on the deck looking at tiny blue green islands that slowly pass by little flecks of land off of India. The kinds of islands that writers strand their characters on. As Nelly lies on deck, she peers out from under her sunhat at sailors, laughing and chanting amongst themselves. Fellow passengers share stories about how the Straits of Malacca used to be infested with pirates. Oh, I would love to see a pirate ship. Just like how she wished for bandits to take over the train in Italy. Nelly envisions pirates sailing around, battling one another and sneaking on to other ships. Visions of torn sails, nefarious men with eye patches and mermaids carved into the front of ships. These stories help pass the time as they leave the Bay of Bengal and dip south into the Straits of Malacca.

The Straits of Malacca is the channel where the Indian Ocean meets the South China Sea. It's the shortest route to get from India to China by water, making it one of the most heavily traveled bodies of water in the world. As Nelly's ship glides through these waters, she watches as the 18th century steamship replaces the 16th century ships sailing in her mind. 

Nellie Bly Arrives in Singapore

Then, around 6pm, Singapore is spotted, and Nelly is officially halfway around the world!

Phew! Only 12,000 miles to go!

Nellie welcomes the night. The air cools as the ship pulls into Singapore’s harbor. Nellie makes her way back on deck. As the island gets larger, she watches the sun set. The bright green island is shaded by turns into deep blue and velvety violet hues. On deck, Nellie can't see anything more than a few lights blinking in the distance. As Nellie relaxes as she looks at the calm island in front of her, until the ships pilot arrived. 

The pilot came at 6 o'clock. I waited tremblingly for his verdict. A wave of despair swept over me when I heard that we should anchor outside til morning because it was too dangerous to try to make the port after dark. And this was the result of slowing down to leave off the coolies at Penang. The mail contract made it compulsory for the ship to stay in the port 24 hours and while we might have been consumed by our stay and so helping me on it in my race against time I was wasting precious hours lying outside the gates of hope. Those few hours might mean the loss of my ship at Hong Kong. They might mean days added to my record! What agony of suspense and impatience I suffered that night. 

 The harbor pilot and captain agree that it’s better to wait and leave in the morning. It's too risky to dock at night. This made Nelly's fuse get short. 

You cannot be serious! With the delay in Ceylon and now this, nothing is going my way. Oh, I want to take my skin off. It's so hot. I can't lose another day! 

Hopefully a good night's sleep on the ship will put some distance between Nelly and her feelings. 

December 17th: Nellie Bly Explores Singapore 

Nelly wakes up to great news. The ship is already being refueled. Fantastic. Even better. There is still time to explore this little island. A small flotilla of sand pans assembles around the steamship. Some sold fresh fruit while others sold silk, lace, photographs, and... monkeys?! Who captured Nellie’s attention. Nellie and Dr. Brown step into a local san - pan. As she makes her way to shore,Nellie cannot take her eyes off of the boats filled with monkeys 

Oh! They're so tiny. Their little hands and faces! It's hard to look away from them!

She stared until they got too small to make out their little details. They arrive on the dock, bustling with business and Dr. Brown hires a buggy with four wheels led by a small poney. 

All of the animals are delightful here! 

 A light wagon with lattice windows and a comfortable seating room for four. They are drawn by a pretty spotted Malay pony whose speed is marvelous compared with its diminutive size and whose endurance is of certain quality that the law sets their working hours to a certain limit. 

As they ride along the perfect streets, Nelly is shaded by the lush tropical foliage of Singapore. Nellie and Dr. Brown's driver headed toward the Esplanade. Nellie wants to understand the people here. She doesn’t want to waste her time on the boring landscape. 

The people filling the streets are a modge-podge of cultures. The Indians, Malay, Thai, and Chinese have trickled down to these two long islands shaped like a broken pair of angel's wings. Nellie passes by old Chinese women, Hindu women dressed in saris and Muslim Malay women adorned in burkas, all co-existing with each other. Buddhism, Hinduism, Confucianism and Islam all coexist. However, the majority of the population is Islamic. The farthest reaching corner of the Islamic empire. And women's roles here have been extremely regimented. Women are ruled under her father or husband, and once she marries, she must obey her husband completely in accordance with Sharia law. Men are allowed to have multiple wives as long as they can support all of them, and there are limitations on where women can travel. And establishments that they can enter. At this time. They have no voting rights. They cannot own property work or have an education, and husbands take custody of their children if their wives choose to leave them. 

Nellie notices that every man, woman and child carries his mark and grape powder on the forehead so the world may look and read and know his caste. 

Almost immediately, Nellie can sense the blending of cultures here. The traces of Indian civilization and the foreshadowing of Chinese customs. 

While Nellie notices hawkers down one street, she looks at Westerners playing cricket and tennis down another. She passes by homes painted in blue and white like China dishes, families seem to occupy the second story, the lower being generally devoted to business purposes. Through latticed windows, we get occasional glimpses of peeping Chinese women in gay gowns. Chinese babies bundle in shapeless garments while down below, through wide open fronts, we could see people pursuing their trades. Many people’s businesses are mobile. Hawkers line the streets, some with carts, others setting up shop with nothing more than a blanket. They peddle fruits and vegetables, bowls of curry and crabs, bowls of rice, others offer cups of coffee, individual cigarettes or hair cuts. 

Barbering is the principal trade, a chair, a comb, a basin and a knife are all the tools a man needs to open shop, and he finds as many patrons. If he sets up a shop in an open street as he would shelter. 

Betel nuts are still a norm here, and Nellie isn’t as surprised this time. 

As in other ports where I stopped locals constantly to betel nuts. And when they laugh, one would suppose that they had been drinking blood, which stains their teeth and mouths. 

Nellie loves being in the mix of this vibrant town. At one point during their ride, Nellie spots a monkey cage and she begs the driver to stop. 

We found the monkey cage. Of course there was, besides a number of small monkeys. One enormous orangutan. It was as large as a man and was covered with long red hair while seeming to be very clever. He had a way of gazing off into the distance with wide unseen eyes. Meanwhile, pulling his long red hair up over his head in an aimless, insane way that was very fetching. The doctor wanted to give him a nut, but was afraid to put his hand through the bars. The grating was too small for the old fellow to get his hands through, but he did not intend to be cheated of his rights, so he merely stuck his lips through the Great until they extended fully four inches. I burst into laughter at this comical sight. I had heard of mouths before, but none that beat anything I ever saw. And I laughed until the old fellow actually smiled in sympathy. He got than not. The doctor then offered him a cigar. He did not take it, but touched it with the back of his hand afterward, smelling his hand, and then subsided into that dreamy state, aimlessly pulling his hair up over the back of his. 

Nellie turns away reluctantly. She wants to play with these monkeys all day.They don’t have much time, and Nellie wants to explore as much of this city as she can with the limited hours she has left. 

As they continue their tour, Driving along a road as smooth as a ballroom floor shaded by large trees made picture us by need of houses built on pins and marshy lands on either side, which tends to dampen our surprise at a great number of graveyards and the generous way in which they were filled. 

Nellie asks to stop to admire how completely different they look from back home. 

The graves were odd, being round mounds with walls shaped like horseshoes, a flat stone where the mound ends and the wall begins. Bears the inscriptions done in colored letters. 

Then as if she was summoning the dead, Nellie hears an unfamiliar sound, which sounded like a political procession the night after a presidential election. That's a funeral. My Malay driver announced, Indeed, if that's the way you have funerals here, I'll see one.

So the driver pulls the Gary to one side as Nelly and Dr. Brown wait eagerly for this funeral that was being heralded by a blast of trumpets. Then they come into view. Men carrying black and white satin flags were energetically waving them around, clearing the roads of vehicles and pedestrians. They were followed by musicians on Malay ponies, blowing fifes, striking cymbals, beating tomtom's, hammering goose sands, pounding long pieces of iron with all their might. And many men carried Chinese lanterns and large banners. Over 40 pallbearers walked by wearing white trousers, sandals and a blue top. The casket, which rests on long polls, suspended on the shoulders of men, was hidden beneath a white spotted scarlet cloth and embroidered Chinese lanterns. The mourners followed in a long string of galleries. They were dressed in white satin from head to toe. The mood didn't feel somber as far as Nelly could tell, but I would not have missed that for anything. Said Dr. Brown.

Nellie sat in all of this. What a contrast this is from her solemn black clothing and sad burials. As much as Nellie could surmise in this ritual, there seemed to be no suggestion of an ending, but a celebration of being able to live it all. 

Once the procession past, the Gary Driver brings them to a small Hindu temple. Locals scrubbed and washed their clothes in a small pool nearby. As Nelly and Dr. Brown pull up into the temple, the priest welcomes the men of her party and invites them inside, but then stops Nellie and her good mood in her tracks. Nellie is not allowed in. 

My comrades were told that removing their shoes would give them admission, but I should be denied that privilege because I am a woman. Why? I demanded, Curious to know why my sex should exclude me from the temple. As an American, it confines me to the side entrance of hotels and other strange and commodious things with a positive shake of his head. No, senora. No, Mother, I am not a mother. I cried so indignantly that my companions burst into laughter, which I joined after a while, but my denials had no effect on the priest who would not allow me to enter. But I should be denied that privilege because I am a woman. 

Sexism in the Earth's atmosphere. 

Nelly tries to cool off from this slight so her and Dr. Brown visits a museum filled with specimens of plants and animals and insects. 

Finally, as the sun begins to head towards the horizon, Nellie's few hours in Singapore are up. Her and Dr. Brown and a lovely French dinner overlooking the city. Once they're done, they hop in their Gary and head back to their ship. But first, their Gary Driver needs to make a pit stop at his house, a modest bamboo and wooden structure and invites Nellie and Dr. Brown in. The driver's wife, a beautiful woman wrapped in vibrant cloth around her waist and right shoulder sits inside. She has large gold rings at her nose and more on her ears, toes, wrists and ankles. Nellie surveys the room and notices in the corner a macaw monkey. 

It was a stout little thing. And about two feet tall, Nellie's stomach clenched. 

Oh, he's so cute. He looks so much stronger than Those tiny monkeys for sale in the sand pants. 

After going a whole month of not buying anything to slow her down, suddenly Nellie's self-restraint weakens at the sight of this mini anthropoid. 

When I saw the monkey, my willpower melted and I began straight away to bargain for it. This monkey looked as strong as the man. I asked, Will the monkey bite? And my driver goes, Monkey, no bite. 

She paid $3 for it. Six times the amount that other monkeys were being sold for. If the world won’t keep her entertained, this monkey sure will. Nellie doesn’t acknowledge how impractical this decision is.  With her monkey by her side, her and Dr. Brown heads back to their ship that will take them to Hong Kong, where unbeknownst to her, is where her actual competitor has docked a few days prior.

Episode Six Part Two:

Nellie Bly is Stranded in Ceylon

Listen to Episode Six Part Two here:

Apple Podcasts and Spotify

December 8th- 12th: The same days that Elizabeth Bisland is falling in love with Japan, Nellie Bly is having a hard time being present in Ceylon. The fates have intervened, and Nellie’s plans get turned upside down. What will Nellie Bly do now that the unexpected has happened, and will she ever get off the paradisiacal island of Ceylon?

Credits

Narrated and Voiced by Adrien Behn

Doctor is played by Fabiana Martinez Sanchez

British sailor and newspaper editor was played by Sam Dingman

Father Time was played by Jake Dingamn 

Resources

80 Days by Mathew Goodman

Around the World in 72 Days and Other Writings by Nellie Bly

Around the World in 72 Days: The Race Between Pulitzer's Nellie Bly and Cosmopolitan's Elizabeth Bisland by Jason Marks

A Race Around the World: The True Story of Nellie Bly and Elizabeth Bisland by Caroline Starr Rose (Author), Alexandra Bye (Illustrator)

Sounds

Freesounds.org 

Soundstripe.com 

Epidemic sounds 

Blue Dot Sessions

Xeno-canto.org

History of Ceylon

Sri Lanka Profile- a Timeline, BBC editors, BBC, 2019

History of Ceylon Tea, David Colin-Thome, History of Ceylon Tea

History of Sri Lanka, Wikipedia editors, Wikipedia, updated 2023

THE HISTORY OF CEYLON, FROM THE EARLIEST PERIOD TO THE YEAR 1815, A. M. Philalethes and Robert Knox, Cambridge University Press, November 5th, 2015

Women’s History in Ceylon

THE UNIQUE POSITION OF SINHALA WOMEN : A HISTORICAL PERSPECTIVE, Indrani Iriyagolle, Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society of Sri Lanka, Royal Asiatic Society of Sri Lanka (RASSL), 1990

Economic Role of Women in Sri Lanka: A Historical Perspective, A. M. Malani Chandrika, Advancements in Historical Studies, Scientific Research, September 2021

Women in Sri Lanka, Wikipedia editors, Wikipedia, updated 2023

Coral Reefs of Ceylon

Bar Reef, Wikipedia editors, Wikipedia, updated 2023

Transcription

Time  

Time is the most precious resource. It’s a currency and once it's spent there is no refunds. If only we could bottle time and release it when we need it most. Many of us wish we had more of it, while others waste it in the wrong ways. We spend too much time in our heads, with the wrong people, in work we don’t love, being people we don’t want to be instead of looking at what's right in front of us. We let sand from our hourglass drip through until we realize it's too late. And in 1889, there's one woman who is desperately trying to get time on her side. 

I'm Adrien Behn, and this is Strangers Abroad, A race around the World, based on the true story of Nellie Bly. 

Day 24. December 8th.

While Liz wishes she had more time in Japan, Nellie is longing to speed up her side of the journey. She spent the last week cutting through the Indian Ocean, the most traveled ocean on the planet. It is a second home to a large majority of the world. Ever since we learned how to harness the trade winds, traders have been crossing its waters from China to Ethiopia, Mozambique to Malaysia. 

During her week at sea, Nellie put up with the British going on and on and on about how great their queen is. But before she had to hear God save the Queen one more time, her ship arrived... two days early! Now Nelly is ahead of the race and she only has to stay on this island for two days. And she is elated! 

Yes, we are ahead! 

On December 8th, the same day Liz landed in Japan, Nellie makes it to Ceylon, the island dangling off of India. She goes over to the steamship deck and leans over the railing. The island shimmers in gold and every shade of green. The ashy gray desert and cold European landscapes are far behind her. She is welcomed by lines of palm trees that feather back from the shore into lush forests. 

With all of our impatience we could not fail to be impressed with the beauties of colombo...as we moved in among the beautiful ships laying at anchor, we could see the green island dotted with low arcaded buildings which looked, in the glare of the sun, like marble palaces. 

In the distance, a mountain ridge towers in the distance with one pointy peak that sticks out like a nose on a face. Majestic palm trees dot the shoreline and feather back into the dense forests, deeper into the island. December is a perfect time to visit. The seasonal rains have ended and won't be coming back until April. 

Ceylon’s beauty has been admired for eons. It is the backdrop of a number of epic Indian tales, and Hindu poets named Ceylon The Pearl Drop Earring on the brow of India. Which is due to the expansive coral reefs and oyster ridges that line the island. Pearls trace the shoreline like a necklace broke into the sea. Ceylon is so beautiful that both Christians and Muslims believed at the time that it actually was the Garden of Eden, which seems to be the only thing they could agree on.

When the Victoria docks, Nellie and her friends take a catamaran out to shore, sandwiched between bags of coffee and tea. 

Catamarans are so seaworthy and so secure against capsizing that no case of an accident to a catamaran has ever been reported. 

Locals here seem to spend as much of their life on water as on land. Dozens of fishermen bob in their boats along the shore. 

A warm wind redolent of honey and cardamom billows by her. Nellie passes by sacks of exports floating past her in these sleek boats, Being loaded onto steamships to get sent back to the UK. Bags of fresh black, green and oolong tea are all on their way to be watered down into Earl Gray and English breakfast. 

Ceylon has the ideal climate for growing tea, and the British have gone to great lengths to benefit from it. 

They arrive on land, and Nellie takes this whole scene in as she makes her way to her hotel. The roads are wide, perfectly smooth and soaked in iron, turning them red and rusty. The city is made up of Western white buildings with large ivory columns and red clay tiled roofed houses and shops. 

The travelers walk by trees that overflow with mangoes, bananas, breadfruit, and figs dangling in them like ornaments. Nellie passes through an open air market. She pauses to touch the smoothness of the silks and trinkets made of ivory, ebony and tortoise shells. Men balance woven baskets on their heads. Slow white corned bullocks with large horns, trudged by her, pulling thatched carts carrying fruits and spices. An elephant uproots a tree trained to move large objects around the dense forests. 

She turns her head back to the marketplace. She notices the intricate ways that local men and women wrap shawls around their bodies. Their hair is pulled back and fastened up with tortoise shells, proudly displaying their long, golden earrings. The women here were even more ornamented than the women in Aden. From her nose to her toes, gold rings adored any body part that could hold one. 

Women’s Rights in Ceylon

Now, Sri Lanka has had a confusing relationship with women's rights. Noble women had a fair amount of agency and influence in her community from a social perspective. Historically, lower class women were in charge of domestic chores, expected to work in the fields, harvesting and planting. Higher status women participated with men in many public matters, enjoyed an independent status as women, as mothers, and had an identity in private and public life, and the freedom to choose one's way of life. After the establishment of Buddhism, they made another progressive move, to renounce lay life and seek ordination. And then the british came around and brought their patriarchal ways with them. 

Some women that Nellie passes on her way to the hotel smile at her and she is taken aback. Their teeth are stained red. This is not the land of raw meat eaters. Everyone here chews betel leaves, which gives them a slight buzz and stains their mouth with a blood like color. The color of the juice matches the red clay roads that the travelers walked on. 

Behind the hotel contains animals that Nellie could have only read about in her childhood home in Appalachia. Monkeys swung from tree to tree. Leopards, tigers, mongoose, black bears and bugs big enough to be mistaken for a dog all stalked out in the unspoiled forests. This land felt more connected to its natural environment than other places she had visited.

But there seems to be a wild energy in the distance shrouded by the trees in secrecy. Nelly can feel a pulsing coming from the mysterious jungle. 

Everyone walking with Nellie to the hotel is enchanted with this island overflowing with riches, while Nellie cannot wait to leave. She wants her next boat to get here as quickly as possible. From here, Nelly will transfer to the P&O Steamship, which will leave in two days on December 10th. That is as long as a mail boat named the Nepal gets here on time. The Nepal needs to transfer mail headed to Australia to the P&O steamship. Nelly crosses her fingers that the mail ship will be on time. But she doesn’t have to worry about it for another two days. 

Nellie Bly Arrives in the Grand Hotel 

For her short time in Colombo, Nellie will stay at the Grand Oriental Hotel. It's a huge, beautiful white building. There's an interior courtyard as opulent as the forests behind them. The hallways are tall and arched with tiled arcades. The white stone building cools everyone inside and saves Nellie from the hot tropical sun. She passes by western male tourists in the lounge, sitting back and smoking in their easy chairs, reading newspapers on marble countertops, and drinking glass after glass of whiskey and soda. The women read novels or bargain with the local jewelry peddlers. 

Merchants often come into the hotel and display delicate, handcrafted laces or open up small velvet boxes filled with dark emeralds, fire lit diamonds, exquisite pearls, and rubies as redder as roses. These tiny velvet boxes transform into small treasure chests. 

No woman who lands in Colombo ever leaves until she's added several rings to her jewelry box. And these rings are so well known that the moment a traveler sees one unknown difference in what Part of the globe he says to the wearer, been to Colombo eh? 

Guests make their way to the dining hall. It’s a large eating room with an arched ceiling and round white tablecloths decorated with orchids. Tall ceiling fans are embroidered and hang from above, fastened by bamboo poles that employees pull back and forth to waft cool air through the space. Everyone who works there glides around in soft cotton white pants and tunics. Once Nellie gets settled, plates of brightly covered sauces and dishes begin to appear. Spice fills the air, accompanied with tiny cups of chutney and slices of fruit. A bowl of rice and a bright yellow dish is placed in front of Nelly. Nellie is told that...

those who know about Curry said that, when it is prepared right, it is the most delicious dish. 

Nellie surveys the spread. She looks around at what others are doing with their spoons, so she puts rice on her plate, followed by a scoop of curry sprinkles on some chutney and herbs. She mixes it together, puts it in her mouth, pulls out her spoon and. 

Oh, wow. Oh, oh, oh. It’s spicy! Oh, but it's so good. 

Her taste buds explode, her eyes bulge out. This was nothing that her mouth had ever experienced. It was spicy, yet creamy, sweet and pungent. From this day forward, she will have curry whenever she can. There is no feeling like having a great local meal in a foreign country. She ate so much, it gave her heart palpitations. And fortunately, Nellie doesn't have to do anything but lie down for the next two days. Good curry should always put you in a cozy food coma. 

That afternoon, her and some fellow passengers had a lazy ride around town. 

After tiffin, we drove to mount lavinia. We went along the smoothest, most perfectly made roads I ever saw. I was told afterwards that they were constructed by convicts. Many of these roads were picturesque bowers, the overarching branches of the trees that lined the wayside formed an arch of foliage above our heads giving us charming telescopic views of people and conveyances along the road. 

Nellie Bly Gets Existential 

That night, Nellie and several passengers from her ship take a moonlight ride to a promenade on a hilltop, which overlooks the ocean. Nellie inhales the spices in the air, mingling with saltwater. The group grabs lime squashes at a street vendor, a carbonated citrus drink. It cools them down as they meander past the view of tall palms where the ocean kisses the sand beach. 

The stop under an arched veranda. Nellie gazes out at the velvety dark waters with a sliver of silver moonlight draped over. A local man standing alone in the water, waist deep. Nellie likes staring out at him, moving about in the water, from a distance, unabashed. It pulls her into a meditative state, and her mind starts to quiet. 

“One can see through the forest of tall palms where the ocean kisses the sandy beach and while listening to the music of the waves the deep mellow roar can drift- drift out on dreams that bring what life has failed to give. The soothing pictures of the imagination that blot out for a moment the stern disappointment of reality.” 

Then two shadows catch the corner of her eye. Nellie turns her head and notices a couple in a loving embrace. She stares at them entwined in each other's arms and her heart starts to get tight. 

“being in love is wrapped up in that delusion that makes life heaven of hell. That forms the foundation of every novel play or story. They stood until a noisy new arrival weakened her from her blissful oblivion, and she rushed scarcely waiting for him to kiss the hand that he held away in the darkness. I side again and taking another sip of my lime squash turned to answer my companion.”

Nellie sighs again, taking another sip of her room temperature lime squash. 

Nelly mentally enters a dark corner of her mind. To her, falling in love is the most boring story. And she wouldn't be thousands of miles from home if she had focused on finding a suitor. Her mind flickers to her work. She doesn't have to write extensively or be undercover, she just has to be present. What a bore.

In the deceptive moonlight, she constantly scans the shore to find a story. But everyone instead is peacefully living out their days. This slow island time has given Nellie a little too much time to be in her head.

Nellie Bly Drifts off in a Haze in Ceylon 

Day, 25, December 9th. 

The second day passes slowly in a haze. It's a repeat of the first day. Curry for lunch, a nap. Long rides into the jungle in the afternoon. Nellie passes by a lake where locals, oxen, horses, buffalo and dogs were all sporting. Others wash their laundry on stones. Everyone seemed to be out. Westerns rode their bicycles while gaily dressed locals walked along the promenade. 

The hours on the island dripped by. Time slows. The sun seemed not to move at all until it eventually rolled under the horizon and welcomed the darkness. A heavy blanket of stars hovers over the island.

Nellie Bly is Delayed in Ceylon 

Day 27. December 10th 

December 10th, the day that Nellie is scheduled to leave, Colombo has finally arrived. On the same day that Liz is heartbroken that she has to leave her island, Nellie can't wait to get off hers. But before Nellie can get ready to leave, she gets news that brings her to a halt. 

As Nellie gets ready to leave. Someone, maybe a fellow guest or a worker, brings her to a halt with terrible news. The mail ship the Nepal has been delayed, which domino effects into her steamship being delayed. Nellie’s steamship, the P&O, is mandated to wait until the mail comes and unfortunately it has the reputation of being the sloth of the sea. She is informed that the ship could be delayed up to three days. 

Eyes wide and unblinking, SHE STARES AT THIS MAN AS he explains the rescheduling. SHE bites into HER TOAST AND maintains eye contact as she SLOWLY CRUNCHES EVERY crumb. She takes a dry swallow and tries to wash down her furry with some tea. 

She starts to feel a real heat in her body. And it wasn't coming from the 90 degree morning. OH NO!

Nellie throws her plate down on her bed, pulls her sheet back, throws on presentable cloths and rushes down to exit the hotel. Panting, the next thing she sees are her hands throwing the doors to the telegraph office open. She puts her hands down on the counter and tightly talks to the attendent that she has to send a telegraph to new york immediately. 

She bursts through the hotel doors and rushes to the nearest telegraph office. She begrudgingly has to inform the world of her delay. 

Once she sends the message, she does a lap around the block to cool off or at least scream into some unsuspecting palm tree. 

I had been making great time. Why is this godforsaken ship taking so long? I don't know how I'm going to make up for this lost time. I was two days ahead, and now I'm one behind. If I missed this boat, then I could miss my connection to Hong Kong and then to Yokohama. And if I miss my boat from Yokohama to San Francisco, I'm destroyed. ( fade out) 

She paces around. The red soil staining her shoes makes a traceable path of her madness. Most people would be happy to be stuck in Ceylon for a few extra days. What a beautiful problem. She constantly spins the gold ring on her thumb. 

Her message back to America won’t be printed for another two days. 

As Nelly makes her way back to the hotel, all she can think about is her recalculations, which now she has too much time to think about. 

Fate has taken the wheel and is driving like a goddamn lunatic with Nellie's plans as she surveys the promenade back. Everyone on the island is out driving around, riding bicycles, walking the promenade lazily, going back and forth between the lighthouse and the shore. What is there to worry about when you're on an island? Time? 

Nellie resented all of them. Even the monkeys could tell that Nellie was tense. As she goes back to the hotel, she rolls her eyes at the men drinking whiskey and tonic and the women still bartering over rings. 

Ugh what a waste of time! 

How am I supposed to enjoy these three days? 

When she goes down to the dining hall for lunch. No one else on her ship seems to be upset with the delay. With all of this extra time, you would think that Nellie will go a little deeper into the local culture. Like other passengers suggest she do some sightseeing to take your mind off things. She could pick berries and coffee in fields, explore tea plantations, or have an easy afternoon of elephant hunting. But the thrill of it all is sapped from her. 

 Just think about how cold and miserable it is back in New York, where here she gets to eat the best curry in the world at every meal and walk around jungles that are dripping with fresh fruits and coconuts. She is surrounded by sights that took her a month to get to things that she's never seen before and she might never be here again. But it doesn't matter. But to her, Ceylon is a checklist. It's not a destination that she wants to explore.

so she picks at her curry and decides what to do with this undefined delay. 

Nellie Bly Watches Snake Charmers Grow a Tree 

That night she tries to put some distance between her and her sour mood. Outside of the hotel, snake charmers and magicians line the streets entertaining locals and foreigners alike. Nellie goes up to a man wearing no shirt and a white cloth around his waist who sits outside her hotel. And Nelly is absolutely stunned by this magician's tricks. 

They would show a seed and they would place the seed on the ground, cover it with a handful of Earth and cover it with a handkerchief, which they would first pass around to be examined so that we might be positive that there is nothing wrong with this. Over this they would chant, and after a time the handkerchief is taken off and then up through the ground is a green sprout. We looked at it incredulously, while the man says, “no good tree too small.” And covers it up again. He renews his chanting once more. He lifts the handkerchief and we see the sprouts. It is larger, but it still does not please the trickster where he repeats tree no goods tree too small and covers it up again. This repeats until he has a tree from 3. To 5 feet in height and he pulls it up and shows us the seeds and the root! 

This is not some old trick that she has seen before like the magician’s tricks on her boat in Egypt. She is truly stunned by the magicians here in Ceylon. 

If only she could pay this magician enough money so he could make the mail boat appear! Nelly drifts off to bed, hoping that tomorrow the ship will come. December 10th came and went and the Nepal mail boat is nowhere in sight. 

Day 28th, December 11th. 

Day two of purgatory. The next day, Nellie’s grumpy mood returns. But she tries to not focus on the time she is losing and distract herself from her building frustration about her delay. She just keeps trying to check off boxes of what to do in order to kill time. 

She and a group from the hotel hired rickshaws to go on a few excursions. They visit a Buddhist college...

And while there I met the famous high priest of Ceylon...sitting on a verandah, that surrounded his low bungalow, writing on a table placed before him...and among other things he told me he received hundreds of letters from the United States every year, and that they found more converts to the Buddist religion in America than in any other land...

She could definitely use some exercises in being present as she scratches that off her list and goes onto the next stop. 

They then went to the city Kandy, which is believed to be the most beautiful city in Ceylon. It has two perfect lakes, ancient temples and a wall of mountains surrounding the city. But all Nellie said about it is. 

Kandy is pretty, but far from what is claimed to be. 

The city, the landscape, the energy just washes over her. She just wants the day to be done and over with so she will be closer to the time of the Nepal boat's arrival.

On their way back, the ride feels rough and haphazard. Nellie shares a rickshaw with a Spanish gentleman and an Irish lad a little younger than her. 

I was tired and hungry and the extreme heat had given me a headache on the way down.

Both the Spaniard and Irishman can tell that Nellie is grumpy, so they try to cheer her up. They bounce up and down on the jungly road. 

The Spanish gentleman endeavored to keep our failing spirits up, but every word he said only helped to increase my bad temper. Much to the amusement of the Irish boy. He was very polite and kind. The Spaniard, I mean, but he had an unhappy way of flatly contradicting one that to say the least very exasperating it was to me. But it only made the Irish boy laugh. 

Then the rickshaw suddenly hits a rough patch of road on teh side of the mountain. 

When we were going down the mountainside the Spaniard got up and standing, put his head through the open window in the door to get a view of the country. “ We are going over,” he said with positive conviction, turning around to us. I was leaning up in a corner trying to sleep while the Irish boy, with his feet braced against the end of the compartment, was trying to do the same. “ We won't go over: I managed to say, while the Irish Boy smiled. “Yes, we will,” the Spaniard shouted back, "Make your prayers!” The Irisboy screamed with laughter and I forgot my sickness as I held my sides and laughed. It was a little thing but it's often the little things that raise the loudest laughs. After that all I needed to say to upset the dignity of the Irish boy was “Make your prayers!”

Day 29. December 12th

NELLIE BLY DELAYED 

Unbeknownst to Nellie, people were making prayers for her back home. Once the news of her delay was printed on the pages of the New York World, women clutch their pearls and men twist their mustaches. 

Nellie’s Bly’s admirers and the World’s guessers will learn with regret that Miss bly has been delayed at Colombo ( fade under) She reached the Singahlese port Sunday morning two days ahead of her itinerary and expected to get away immediately.... ( fade under)

On December 12th, Nellie's message is inked all over America. 

This changes the part of her itinerary which applies to the 3500 miles between Colombo and Hong Kong. She will leave Ceylon three days behind time. Instead of arriving in Singapore on December 18th...

The newspaper recalculates her journey for the readers. By now, there is so much swell and chatter in America about Nellie Bly’s race around the world. Thousands of people are glued to the news. Nellie is so close to her halfway point. Everyone invested in the race hopes that this won't delay her at large. 

On the same day, on December 12th, Nellie is alone in her misfortune, boredom, and irritation. She has no idea that halfway around the world, a whole nation is praying for her and waiting with bated breath for her safe and swift return home. 

The same day, halfway round the world December 12th, her third day in purgatory. Nellie is restless. The Spanish man offers to bring her to a pearl market, but she has a headache and is nervous about getting cholera. She just lets a day of her life and of this one- in- a lifetime- race pass her by on this paradisiacal island. 

THEN FINALLY it is posted that night on the hotel blackboard that Nellie’s steamship, the O&P, is to leave the following morning at 8 a.m.

Well, it’s about time!

That night, the Spaniard asks Nellie if she wants to go shopping with him the next morning before her departure. But Nellie is too anxious and declines. All she wants to do is catch this boat.

Nellie Bly Leaves Colombo, Ceylon
Day 30th, December 13th

At 5:30 a.m, she rises before the sun and bolts for the ship without stopping for breakfast. She is the only foreigner on the beach at that hour with a furious mission. The lazy fishermen and merchants notice her hustle. Nellie is the first passenger on the ship, to no one's surprise, but she still has plenty of waiting to do because the Nepal mail boat STILL wasn’t there yet. 

Not even breakfast was ready on the ship, so she decides to go up on deck. First, she looks out in the direction that she thinks the mail boat would come from, somehow believing that if she stares long enough, it will make the boat suddenly appear. She looks down at the watch on her right wrist and every second seems to drag. 

Her telepathy was not working, so she decides to sit down. Her fingers grab the thick, prickly rope that ties all of the deck chairs to each other, and she just can't get it out. This knot is really tight, really She fiddles with it more, tries to wiggle a finger through it. 

Given that she is sleep deprived, hungry, under caffeinated, overheated and generally agitated? She starts to lash out at the chairs and lose it. 

Why is it anything going my way? Why can't I get this knot? Why is this so difficult? 

Nellie is not alone on the deck. Two doctors who are part of the ship’s crew, are standing near Nelly. They definitely hear her before they see her. One of them notes her struggles and politely offers to help. And instead of saying, Yes, thank you, I would very much like that. Nelly snaps her head and curtly asks,

When do we sell?

The men could tell by her tone that she is frustrated and begins de-escalating the situation. The older man calmly says that. 

As soon as the Nepal comes in, she was to have been here at daybreak, but she hasn't been signed yet. She's a slow old boat. 

May she go to the bottom of the bay when she gets in! That old tub! I think it's an outcry to be kept waiting five days for a tub like that. 

Colombo is a pleasant place to stay. 

It may be if staying there does not mean more than life to mine. Really, it would afford me the most intense delight to see the Nepal go to the bottom of the sea. 

Her anger surprised the two men and herself. After expressing some of her frustration, Nellie reels it in. She knows how easy it is for women to be put into an insane asylum, and she doesn't want to spark any ideas for the doctors. She takes a breath. These two men have no idea why she's so upset. They don't know her race . She's just some weird lady traveling alone who happens to be in Colombo. She inhales the fragrant air and tries to find some laughter. Through slightly gritted teeth, she says to the men, 

Everything happens for the best. 

She exhales and tries to believe that it's true. Once her better nature returns, 

Then she notices a little puff of smoke just above the horizon. There is the Nepal! As her hand reflectively shoots out and points. The two doctors come in and narrow their gaze, and sure enough, the Nepal mail boat is chugging along towards them. 

Thank God. It's here. It's here. It’s here! 

Once Nellie comes down from the complete euphoria, the doctor’s bring her down to the breakfast area where her Irish friend is hanging out with his sparkling eyes and jolly laugh and Nellie can finally relax.

At 1 p.m, the Nepal mail ship finally dispatches its mail and all the passengers get on the P&O steamship and Nellie finally sets sail. 

Nellie goes on deck and stares out at Adam’s peak as it gets smaller and smaller. The way it had gotten bigger and bigger a few days ago. She casts off Ceylon like leaving an ex- good riddance! Before she knew it, more distance was put between her and Ceylon to her delight. As the island fades into the distance, Nellie sighs in relief. It feels great to be on the move again. But her worries linger, as she sails away... that there is too much earth and not enough time to go around it. Because as she starts to cross the Bay of Bengal, for the first time, Nellie Bly is behind schedule.

Episode Six Part One:

Elizabeth Bisland

Falls in Love with Japan

Listen to Episode Six Part One here:

Apple Podcasts and Spotify

December 8th- 12th: After 16-days at sea, Elizabeth Bisland finally sees land again. She explores the land of the rising sun and does everything she can in her short amount of time there. Elizabeth gets the first taste of how exhilarating falling in love with a country can be...and she starts to see this whole race a little differently.

Credits

Narrated and Voiced by Adrien Behn

Sailor and himself was played by Sam Dingman

Father Time was played by Jake Dingamn 

Resources

80 Days by Mathew Goodman

In Seven Stages: A Flying Trip Around the World by Elizabeth Bisland

Around the World in 72 Days: The Race Between Pulitzer's Nellie Bly and Cosmopolitan's Elizabeth Bisland by Jason Marks

A Race Around the World: The True Story of Nellie Bly and Elizabeth Bisland by Caroline Starr Rose (Author), Alexandra Bye (Illustrator)

Sounds

Freesounds.org 

Soundstripe.com 

Epidemic sounds 

Blue Dot Sessions

Xeno-canto.org

Yokohama History

Yokohama, Lonely Planet Editors, Lonely Planet, updated 2023

Yokohama Japan, Official Visitors Guide, Yokohamajapan.com

Yokohama: Where the West Began, Steve Lohr, New York Times, 1984

The History of Yokohama Customs, Ministry of Finance Japan, Customs

History of Japan, Wikipedia editors, Wikipedia, updated 2023

Women’s History in Japan

Women in Ancient Japan: From Matriarchal Antiquity to Acquiescent Confinement, By Mallary A. Silva, Inquiries Journal, 2010

A Seemingly Developed Nation: Women’s Rights in Japan, Morgan Waters, Towson University, May 17th, 2021

Women in Japan, Wikipedia Editors, Wikipedia, updated 2023

Kabuki Theater

An Introduction to Kabuki Theater, Asian Art Museum

Kabuki, Written and fact-checked by The Editors of Encyclopaedia Britannica, Britannica, Oct 12, 2023

Kabuki, Wikipedia Editors, Wikipedia, updated 2023

Transcript

Time

It's a late March day, sunny but chilly, and I'm sitting on a ledge overlooking the Grand Canyon. My partner, Sam, is sitting next to me. It took us four days to get here. 2500 miles and six podcast series took us to the most awe inspiring natural wonder in America. We hike for an hour and a half head deeper and deeper into the canyon. The red and purple cliffside rises above our heads in unison. We sit down and take a look. Our legs just reach the edge of this giant, stable rock. Red dust clings to our shoes. All around us are these massive slabs of rock whittled away by water and time, striped and arid, seemingly infinite. It's like looking into the past. The Colorado River ebbs below us and wanes down. After years of hard work. I stare out. It's so hard to look away from it. Ridges of purple, red, and orange mark the rock like rings on a chopped down tree. An occasional mouse scurries along its edges and knocks a few pebbles off the edge. They make the long journey down. We can’t even hear when they make it to the bottom. 

It is incomprehensible how large it is and how it doesn’t carve into that much land in comparison to the rest of the planet. 

I stare out. Suspending in a feeling of clarity. My brain expands with its surroundings and I feel small. So small. So insignificant. Because somehow here I think I can see how big the big picture is and I don’t even have a grasp on it. I love that feeling. 

And after a few minutes of silence, I ask Sam what he thinks, and he says, All I can think of is that we're looking at time. 

The elusive slippery construct that is time. Ever since humans thought of time, we've been trying to quantify and control it. The sundial, the clock, the calendar. Our need to measure time is tethered to our desire to know how long we have been here and is tied up in the larger question of why are we here at all? 

Philosophy, religion and science have all tried to capture what time is, like catching a live butterfly and pinning it to a board. 

So far, none have been perfect answers to explain what this strange story is that we've all been plopped into. 

The question of how much time we have looms over us every day. Like noticing the guillotine dangling above your head. Time unspools itself. It's cyclical. It's a straight line and has layers. It's part of us. It's dying and it's infinite. It has never started and will never end, no matter what form it takes. All we humans have ever wanted is just to get a grip on it. And in 1889, there is one woman who wants nothing more than all the time in the world. 

Welcome to Strangers Abroad 

I'm Adrien Behn and this is Strangers Abroad. A Race Around the World, based on the true story of Elizabeth Bisland. 

Elizabeth Bisland Sails Through the Pacific Ocean 

For the two weeks that Nellie has traveled throughout Europe and the Middle East, Liz has just been sitting on a boat in the Pacific. That is how huge the Pacific is. This body of water gets its name from being the calmest of the oceans. So when Liz leaves San Francisco, she anticipates that she will be gliding on an 8000 mile piece of glass. And on their first night, she was proved otherwise. Once they cast off America, the night turns cold. The smooth green water begins to froth and the ship rocks back and forth. In her cabin, Liz’s head pounds and her stomach lurches. The boat is being tossed back and forth like a football. 

Oh, I just want to be still. 

When she tries to read, the words jump up and down on the page. And the water raged for days. 

The next four days of my only memory of the Pacific Ocean is of the foaming flood of a world which roars past my porthole, making a dull green twilight begin. I see only this and the slats of the upper berth. There are six of these slaps. I know this because I counted them several thousand times. 

One two three four five six, six five four three two one 

First, that harrowing journey through the Rockies, and now this?!

For four days, alone in her cabin, Liz’s mind swirls like the waves around her. And then she mentally falls off the deep end. 
“If one should choose this place to be cured of the wound of living he should never reach the firm earth beneath. He would hang forever in these soundless, icy depths, moving scarcely at all with the slow,obscure flux of the deep sea tides surrounded by strang formless, protoplasmic life, blind senseless and inert...The voyage is a lonely one. In all these many thousand miles we never see a sail or any shore. There is no sea life around us. ” 

Finally on the fifth day, the ocean fades from a violent emerald to a placid blue. 

Once the waters return to their usual temperament, Liz's poetic mind resurfaces as well.

Burning azure sapphires would be pale and cold beside the sea. 

She slowly and steadily makes her way to the top of the deck. The sunlight is harsh. She feels like a vampire after being in that dark cabin for so long. 

Oh, I hope nobody notices me. I feel turned inside out. My hair is a mess. 

And as she looks around on the deck, she sees that all of her fellow female passengers lie out on their chairs and are wrapped around in their travel rugs and sipping hot beverages. 

“I began to take beef tea and resolution to live. Other women were also beginning to straggle back to life on deck– pale wan and with neglected hair tied up in lace scarfs...indifferent about their appearance

Liz casts her care for appearances into the wind and got to know everyone on the ship.

Our small, circumscribed world daily grows in importance in our estimation. We know intimately the characters, tastes and histories of our companions. 

This is Liz's life on the upper deck for the remaining two weeks at sea. Whereas the ship's steerage is crowded with hundreds of Chinese immigrants returning home. The fumes of joss sticks and opium seep from below. Liz sometimes peers down to watch them play fan tan chess and dominoes. 

One day, Liz notices a man no older than 25, but his face is waxy and oily and he is sweating something out of him. He lies down on his cot with his hands crossed over his chest as if he were already in a coffin. Liz smiles at the Chinese women and is told that when Chinese immigrants fall sick with consumption, it's common for them to sail back home. Willing themselves to live through the long journey so they can pass on in their homeland. As Liz looks at the man, she notices he hardly moves. He doesn't want to waste any energy. 

The day's drip by Liz sees nothing but the same birds. 

That follow us from San Francisco to Japan without a sign of fatigue. Wheeling easily after us as we plunge onward at the rate of 350 miles a day, it fills one with a sort of despair. To get up every morning and see the same sea, the same horizon, the same birds, nothing. To mark our progress. 

Elizabeth Bisland Spots Japan

Day 24 December 8th 

Finally, on December 8th, 1889, the monotony of the horizon breaks. A sailor rushes to the edge of the deck and points out at the horizon. 

American Solider: It’s Japan!

Liz rushes up next to him. Liz squints. It's hard to make anything out. Her eyes are unpracticed. Other passengers join her side, crowding around on the side of the boat, suddenly they see a tiny landmass out in the distance. A huge sigh of relief and cheer comes over the passengers.

The cost of getting to Japan is almost settled. 

Oh, land is near, thank goodness!

Liz stares out at the hazy outline of a conical mound, her first look at an active volcano, stoic on the outside but boiling with unknown power within, able to destroy and fertilize. 

Hues of pink and pearl melt softly into the gray beneath soars sharply into the blue above and reveals Fujiyama the divine mountain 12,365 feet high. It rises alone and unmarred by surrounding peaks. Mount Fuji, mother of fire, is the greatest symbol of Japan. 

But seeing it for the first time, Liz, immediately understands why it is such a strong fixture in the Japanese imagination. As the steamship pulls closer to land. 

She feels tears welling up in her eyes, but not of sadness in the volcano's presence. She feels a reverence that she's never felt in church before. 

The image of the rising sun behind Mt. Fuji is now permanently burned in her memory. It will be there whenever she closes her eyes and wishes she was in Japan. 

As the steamship nears the shoreline, the land becomes larger and takes the shape of a sleeping dragon. 

In the harbor are bright red buoys and giant military trade ships from all over the world. They bob in Yokohama’s Harbor to a backdrop of soft Virgin Hills. Once the steamship anchors, wooden sampans glide towards set long canoes that are pushed by a single long bamboo pole.

Welcome to Yokohama 

Where the past 16 days blur together, and from here on out, Liz will remember every detail and moment of her time in Japan. Liz is finally in the east. Yokohama is on the northwestern side of Honshu, one of Japan's four main islands. Yokohama was the first city to open for trade with outsiders and was now Japan's chief trading port. 

She is probably one of the few Americans who get to experience recently modernized Japan. The country industrialized in a mere 30 years, 70 years faster than Western countries. So when Liz arrives in Yokohama, this new port city feels fully lived in.

This was a scheduled two day pit stop. During this time, Liz can get off the Oceanic and explore as much of Japan as she wishes with the rest of her first class passengers. The second class passengers have to stay cooped up on the boat. They're not allowed to leave during the two day pause for fear of spreading diseases. Liz gathers her items in the mayhem of offloading. But Liz has never been more grateful for solid ground, even if her sea legs made it hard to walk down the gangplank. Liz takes a mental picture of her first moments on new soil. Japanese men in mushroom shaped casa hats and blue tunics pull two wheeled vehicles behind them. Peddlers carry merchandise on poles slung across their backs. Soldiers sing and hum to themselves as they purchase goods. Women's hair is pulled back in thick coils slicked with oil and filled with ivory or jade pens as they saunter around in bright silk kimonos, flowery gowns and wooden clogs. The clipping of clogs is the only noise that Liz hears on the streets because there is no horse traffic. Children of runabout pulling kites, wearing box shaped gowns, decorated in flowers. There's a serenity on the streets that Liz has never felt anywhere in America. She notices strangers and acquaintances smile at each other on the streets. Every sense is heightened. Her eyes capture every color. Her nose smells the redolent air of seawater and evergreen trees in the distance. 

“Fan-land, Island of porcelain, Shikishima, the country of chrysanthemums...green hills of fairyland! The palace across whose cherry branches with pink and white blossoms grow out of nothing at all to decorate the foreground....sailing so long due west, we had at least reached the east, the real east not east of anywhere but the east...the birthplace of poetry and porcelains of tradition and of architecture.” 

If you thought she saw beauty in Nebraska, wait until she walks around Japan. Her and her travel friends hire a rickshaw to bring them through the town to their hotel. She's a little thrown by the rickshaws, but they're the only way that people get around. These single passenger carriages were pulled by the strength of a single man. These men would walk for miles in sandals made of straw where their passengers can retract a hood on the carriage to be shaded from the sun. They were paid low wages and the work was so hard on their bodies they could only be a driver for 5 years before it took years off their lives.

Liz feels very awkward about this, but she has no choice. You know when in Japan. So she hops up and is pulled away as Liz rides above the locals. She notices that their kimonos have Japanese characters on them, explaining what someone does on their shirts. Class is direct and visible here. They pass by the French pier, a stopping place for Western visitors. The Westerners who lived in Yokohama are mostly diplomats and military families. They all live in villas on the cliffside and do not seem to assimilate into local culture. 

As Liz makes her way to the hotel, the energy of this new land is palpable and she soaks it all in. She's astonished that Yokohama is only 30 years old because every aspect of it seems to have been thought of. She smells of steamed rice, fish, and seaweed waft out of small shops and homes. She glances into a window of people chowing down with chopsticks and not a fork in sight. The streets are so clean and quiet. Every difference feels huge. 

Before she even gets to her hotel, she is humbled. 

“`And I who had come to it from the country of common-sense of steam loughs and newspaper enterprises bowed my head reverently in the portal of this great temple of the world and fell upon my knees awed by mysterious age and vastness, my heart within me was stirred and I was led to great recklessness in the use of capital letters.”

Liz wants to be present for every second she is in the land of the rising sun. 

I want to go everywhere. I want to examine every crevice of this country. 

As she arrives at the Grand Hotel, she passes through a courtyard filled with delicate flowers of those iconic cherry trees. She inhales their delicate scent. She arrives at her room which is heated with steam and has electric call buttons, which is very modern and decadent. 

She had a terrace with French doors that she could dramatically swing open and look out over the water. There was no need for books or magazines. She could spend all night looking out this window and be quietly enchanted, just watching the locals go about their evening. Liz stares out at the street below her and the bay in the distance. 

Minutes pass. Maybe an hour goes by. She looks out her window as the sun is swapped out for the moon. The sky grows dark and the air has that fresh evening crispness as Liz listens to the melodic tunes of locals walking and talking through the streets. 

Liz rests her elbows at the edge of the window and cups her face into her hands. In her solitude, Liz absorbs the scenery and stares out what she has traveled so long and so far to get to. 

Pink and white paper lanterns filled with light, bob and glow at a distance. They are fastened at the top of rickshaws and swing back and forth, dancing like fireflies, as the drivers carry locals and goods from one end of the city to the other. The broad yellow moon rises above the water and wrinkles the bay in a celestial gold. 

“I move in a joyous dream. Can this be I in all the fullness of earthly imperfection? And I permitted to see it.”

She steps back. She runs her hand through her hair and holds her hand to her cheek then covers her mouth in breathless admiration. 

Liz is tapped into the pulsating energy of the nearby volcano, the joyous hustle on the streets, and she starts to feel how big the earth really is. 

This is a whole world here. And I had no idea.

Elizabeth Bisland Goes to the Theater in Yokohama

But she doesn't want to just look at Japan. She wants to suck the bone marrow out of her time here and just her luck she will not be spending it alone. For dinner. She meets up with some of her other shipmates who are also staying in the Grand Hotel. And one of them is a pretty brown eyed girl named Madge, who, 

Finds everything as dear and astonishing and delightful as I do. 

We don't get many details about Madge, but we do know that she and Liz hit it off for this part of the story. Liz has a travel buddy that is so rare to find. Sitting at their table for dinner is the American Lieutenant McDonald, a paymaster in the Navy who's been in Yokohama for 20 years. And he knew the city like a Western local. He offers to show them around the local area and to go to a kabuki theater that night. 

Yes, an adventure is afoot. 

Everyone who's interested gathers themselves for an evening out. They all stepped out into the cool night where Liz and her small crew all ordered rickshaws and make their way through the city to the theater. And Liz notices that the Japanese are still excited to do business late at night. All of their shop fronts look like little matchbox buildings and glow from the inside. Each shop front has bamboo curtains that roll up during business hours and are let down when the shop is closed for the night. 

As they glide through the city, the shops are still busy. They sell silks, porcelain, ceramics, statues, pens and ink, candles, teapots, cooking knives and paintings. Liz passes by all of these stores that she wishes she had hours to explore. The pace of the city is even keeled. No one is in a rush and everyone says hello to each other. There are little portable carts of tea that move through the streets with little lanterns hanging from the top, swinging to and fro. Steam rises up as they make their way from one street to the next. Pedestrians can order tea and hot saki, which are poured from a gooseneck porcelain bottle, and have a sweet meat to go with it. 

“Everything everywhere is radiantly, clean, dainty, and inviting. All of the folks are gay and vo. This place is joyous, brightly, tinted, and fantastic. Under the smiling moon,”

Suddenly she hears a cry. It's one of the white robed police officers. They parol the streets with lanterns and clubs and they occasionally cry out to each other. Only to signal that all is well. 

Finally, the crew arrives at the Playhouse. The lieutenant tells them that the finest actors in Japan perform here. Even though Liz won’t understand a lick of the play, her face lights up knowing she is getting the best of the best. The box office is decorated in Japanese characters and surrounded by locals gathering for a night of theater. Liz and her Western guests step inside to a lobby crowded with locals slipping off their shoes one by one, instead of a coat check. They have a shoe check in Japan and all the locals hang their shoes on a wall of pegs. They slip on socks and slippers to sit on their heels and walk into the theater. It's customary to not walk around a home with shoes on. How unsanitary. But since Liz and her crew were foreigners, they were exempt. They were given chairs so they can sit in the upper gallery so they wouldn't block anyone else's view. 

Liz and her out-of-town friends made their way to their specialized seats. She enjoyed this bird's eye view of her surroundings. The energy of the locals is poised and mindful. Down below in the pit, families are huddled together, sitting on rugs and tending to their teapots, which simmer over a contained charcoal flame. The women drink tea as they chatter and occasionally warm their fingers by the hot pot. 

Most of the men were napping or having a smoke. One corner is dedicated to babies so they can all play together. Liz notices that children have a particular reverence for their elders and she finds it extremely soothing. The first level of the theater looks like a community living room. The stage is not that deep, but it was lofty and beautiful. Crepe curtains sway lightly as crew members walk behind, preparing the stage for the anticipated performance. Finally, it's time the children scurry back to their families. The men wake up and the curtain is pulled back to reveal a Japanese home on the large and lofty stage. Like in Chinatown. Liz has to infer most of the play. And what she could tell is that regardless of gender, all of the actors are played by men. 

Women in Japan 

Old men were playing very young women. Because when Liz is in Japan, women were forbidden from being actresses. Japanese women's roles and rights had oscillated throughout the island’s history and were always dependent on the ruling religion at the time. It's believed that prehistoric Japanese tribes divided their labor equally between the sexes. First century writings elude that both genders had equal respect and women were respected and were not only allowed to rule but it was believed that when women in power brought peace and stability to their communities. 

In the eighth century, Japan had an empress. And for 500 years, women could own and manage property in their own names, gain an education, and even take a lover if she's discreet. But by the time Liz's ship arrived, women's roles had severely declined. Confucius ideals, which were inherited from China, infused themselves into Japanese society, which held beliefs that women are not capable of anything more than being subservient to the men in their lives. So all of the women sitting, watching play with leis had no legal rights and were at the whim of their fathers or husbands. Even though the style of play that everyone was enjoying was started by women. Kabuki began in the early 1600s when a female dancer, Okuni performed versions of Buddhist prayers. Other female dancers joined her and they traveled the country with their performances, which were a sensation, but a little too titillating. The government believed that these dances were an extension of prostitution and forbade women to perform. They were replaced by young boys who also proved to be a little too lusty and were eventually replaced with older men, which is who Liz is staring at as she tries to figure out the plot. 

*cheer* 

Partway through the play, her companions get tired and decide to leave early. Everyone had an early train to Tokyo the next day. As they exit the building, Liz and Madge chatted about the performance, the outfits and the beauty of the theater. They all retired to their beds in the hotel, but before they went to bed, Liz and Madge decided to go on a shopping adventure in the morning. 

Silks 

Day, 25, December 9th 

In the chilly morning, the ladies go down to a fashionable shopping street. The locals move about the rickshaws with their hands tucked into the sleeves of their cotton padded kimonos. The bamboo curtains were rolled up at the start of the workday. The shops are elevated to three feet off the ground. Shoppers are expected to sit on their heels pointing to everything they want to look at. The shopkeeper brings and handles every item.

We wandered from shop to shop, receiving an air of affectionate friendliness everywhere in the shops. 

And at each shop. Liz and Madge are offered tea that gives them a bit of a buzz and makes their breath smell like flowers. The women admire everything in the shops. Rows of lacework, bronze, ivory and jade sculptures, all stunning craftsmanship. Each shop is lined with porcelain basins filled with bright yellow chrysanthemums. 

Liz wanted to buy everything, and no one had hard feelings when they just gave a wave and a smile as they left. With every shop they went into. Each salesperson seemed to be getting sweeter than the next. And what truly takes Liz's heart is the silk. 

“I found a poetry of fabrics. Grapes, Lilly Milky opals with pale iris. Hues of rainbows faint purple, and roses of clear sunset skies embroidered with wheeling flights of white stalks. And it's threads Shimmered, like the crystals of dry snow blind with gold, pale blues and reds blending together like a morning mist. These fair garments are woven of rainbows and moon beans.”

Oh my goodness. I want to purchase every kind of silk presented to me. The details, the subtleties, the absolute splendor of all of these crafts. I can't believe this place has been here my whole life. I only have two days. 

Her throat gets a little tight each time she leaves the shop. Liz and Madge get so wrapped up in silks, they nearly miss their train. They rush to their train, which they know will come on time. 

Elizabeth Bisland Goes to Tokyo and Tombs

As they hustle onto the train into their seats. Liz makes sure she gets a window seat and her and Madge gab about their morning to others in the momentary pauses. Liz gazes out at the island's landscape. Giant pines whizzing by, blur into a velvety green spread latticed roof, farmhouses, pagodas with roofs that wing out like the feathery pine trees around them, roadside temples, plum orchards, waters filled with rice patties. All of these pieces of landscape work in concert together, creating a stunning piece of visual harmony. Now, Liz knows why Japanese paintings are so simple. Nothing more than a few brush strokes are needed to accurately depict the scenery. 

The group arrives in the capital city recently named Tokyo and sadly they only have time to go to one site. They made their way up to the top of a hill, which had the famous Temple on Sheba grounds. 

When they arrive, Liz notices the bald monks pace around in a walking meditation, their gold robes flowing in the wind. As they get off their rickshaws, they stand in awe of these mausoleums and shrines. Tall evergreens stood around the mausoleum like soldiers, walls of neon green mosques and closed the area. A ginkgo tree older than the shrine, shades and stretches over the temple. 

It’s so peaceful, Liz can hear her heartbeat. 

The tomb of Emit tsu, is the mausoleum of the 17th century Shogun who closed off Japan from the rest of the world. The latticed levels, inscribed in red, black and gold. One of the Buddhist monks turns to Liz and warns her how beautiful the tomb is. It's as if he could see through her and spotted her weakness for beauty. 

She steps inside and inhales the stillness of the room. It's painted a deep red. Gilded and lace dragons, birds and lotus flowers are carved into it. Chrysanthemums fill porcelain vases. She paces around and admires the tomb with a reverence for a ruler she would never worship. She curbs the impulse to touch the stone lanterns made of dark bronze and decorated with gilded Sanskrit characters. Time slows down. She's there for a minute. Maybe an hour. 

Time no longer plays by the same rules as back home. Here. Each moment is pregnant and slow. Even though the day feels like it's washing past her like a train. She soaks in every detail, every color, boutique, offering, and carving. How ornate this tomb is for a Buddhist. 

Liz feels her mind calm and expands. Finally, when she steps out, she notices every leaf on the electric green moss below her and the red Camilla blossoms that dot the ground. A light breeze hits her cheeks. The earth itself seems to be in a meditative state. But she is wide awake. So awake, the rest of her life feels like she's just been going through the motions. No conversation she will ever have will feel the same as standing here at the feet of this ancient tomb in this ethereal country. She feels a swell of emotions within her. 

Elizabeth is ruined. She cannot unsee this. She lets herself fall in love with Japan as if it was a person. Standing in front of this timeworn temple surrounded by pine trees and lotus flowers was worth every one of those 16 days at sea. 

Liz and her group stand in awe at the feet of the giant calm Buddha on the hill, surrounded by a thicket of roses. Liz bites her tongue to stop the tears from coming. She wasn't prepared for what the world would show her. 

The time comes to head back to Yokohama. Liz reluctantly walks back to her group as they make their way back to the train. Liz is quieter on her ride back, simmering in all that she has seen. She boards, sits in a window seat and stares up at the moon. It's the same moon that hangs over her back home. But somehow it seems more golden here. It's a halo over Mount Fuji. 

Liz and her group make it back to the hotel, and Liz reluctantly crawls into bed. But she promises herself. She promises that she will come back here someday. And that thought lulls her to sleep in the last few hours in the land of fairies. 

Elizabeth Bisland Leaves Japan

Day, 26 December ten

The next morning, Liz wakes up with a lump in her throat. It is so hard to leave the places you fall in love with. She packs up her bag, now fat with silks, walks under the cherry trees, surveys the streets one last time in her rickshaw. She wants to take a mental photograph of everything around her, burn it in her eyes so when she closes them she will be back in Japan even when she is thousands of miles away. 

She arrives at the water's edge with the Oceanic and her impending departure. She swallows some tears as the sea air hits her face. She can't taste the difference. As she begrudgingly makes her way back to the Oceanic. She has her charmed farewells with the lieutenant and she musters up some strength.

I must move on in my swift course and be ready for new sights and friends. 

That's the spirit as they sail into the afternoon. It gives Liz some time to at least stare out at Mt. Fuji as it gets smaller and smaller. The way it had gotten bigger and bigger a few days ago. She whispers to herself as if she was leaving a lover. 

I, too, have been to the fairy land.

Before she knew it, more distance was put between her and Japan than she would have liked. As the island fades into the distance, there was more bad news. She hears that the sick Chinese passenger...died. A sailor hangs a screen around where his body lays. He will reach his homeland but will not be alive to see it one last time. Elizabeth leans over the stairway passage to storage and watches as other Chinese passengers drop one white sugar cube after another over the man's still body, sending him off with good luck in the afterlife. 

Liz doesn't hold back her tears. She cries for the man and for the fact that there is so much to see and such little time.

Episode Five:

Nellie Bly Hopscotches

Through the Middle East

Listen to Episode Five here:

Apple Podcasts and Spotify

November 25th- December 2nd: Nellie Bly sails through the Mediterranean, cuts through the Suez Canal, sails through the Red Sea and makes it to the Indian Ocean. She stops in Egypt and Yemen and explores the Middle East. Now that she is in the middle of it all, she sees both sides to travel, all of the beautiful and ugly parts of it.

Credits

Narrated and Voiced by Adrien Behn

Honorable Windham Curtain was played by Fabian Martinez Sanchez

Suez Canal Passenger was played by Jonathan Tenace 

Eratosthenes, Man with 19 trunks, and New York World reporter was played by Sam Dingman 

Father Time was played by Jake Dingamn 

Resources

80 Days by Mathew Goodman

Around the World in 72 Days and Other Writings by Nellie Bly

Around the World in 72 Days: The Race Between Pulitzer's Nellie Bly and Cosmopolitan's Elizabeth Bisland by Jason Marks

A Race Around the World: The True Story of Nellie Bly and Elizabeth Bisland by Caroline Starr Rose (Author), Alexandra Bye (Illustrator)

Sounds

Freesounds.org 

Soundstripe.com 

Epidemic sounds 

Blue Dot Sessions

Xeno-canto.org

Eratosthenes and His Traveler

Eratosthenes, Carl Sagan, Cosmos, 1980

Eratosthenes, Wikipedia

Eratosthenes, by Joshua J. Mark, World History, March 3rd, 2022

Lascars

Lascars, Wikipedia

Lascars: Asian seafarers in Britain in the 1800s, Florian Stadtler, British Library

Lascars and British merchant shipping, by Magdalena Schedl, Library Assistant, Royal Museums Greenwich, August 8th, 2022

Egyptian Women

Women in Ancient Egypt, Egypt Exploration Society

Women Achieved Enormous Power in Ancient Egypt. What They Did With It Is a Warning for Today, BY KARA COONEY, Time Magazine, October 18th, 2018

Women's Legal Rights in Ancient Egypt, by Janet H. Johnson, University of Chicago, 20202

Women in Ancient Egypt, Wikipedia

The Suez Canal

Suez Canal, by Charles Gordon Smith and William B. Fisher, Brittanica, September 15th, 2023

9 Fascinating Facts About the Suez Canal, by Evan Andrews, The History Channel, November 17, 2014

Why the Suez Canal is so important – and why its blockage could be so damaging, by Rob Picheta, CNN, March 26, 2021

Canal History, suezcanal.gov

Yemenis Women

Women in Yemen, Wikipedia

Gender and Status Inequalities in Yemen: Honour, Economics., and Politics, by Sheila Carapico, Oxford Academic, June 1996

Women in Yemen: Crossing the Boundaries of Silence, by Hanan Hussein, Global History Dialogues, 2021

Women's Rights in the Middle East and North Africa - Yemen, by Amal Basha, Rana Ghanem, Nabil Abdulhafid,
Freedom House, October 2005

The Red Sea

The Red Sea, by William B.F. Ryan and B. Charlotte Schreiber, Britannica, Oct 19, 2023

Is the Red Sea Really Red?, by Tom Garlinghouse, Live Science, July 22, 2022

Transcript

Eratosthenes and His Traveler

It's hot out. A man walks beside the Nile. He left just before the longest day of the year. He feels the sun's rays beat onto his uncovered shoulders. A wind blows against his belted linen skirt. Now he isn't strolling along aimlessly. For days, he's been walking heel to toe with extreme focus. He counts every time the balls of his feet hit the earth and lift off again. He cannot mess up. He has to get this count right. Because this is his job. He's been hired to count how many steps it takes to go from Alexandria, a city in northern Egypt, to Syene, a city in the south. His boss is Eratosthenes, the chief librarian of Alexandria. He's a mathematician and a poet, and Eratosthenes is trying to answer a question. Is the world flat or round? It's been a popular question in his day and age, and Eratosthenes is an astute observer. Every day at high noon, He sees all of the buildings in Alexandria cast a shadow, but in his readings from his library, he stumbled upon a passage about how the buildings in the city of Syene cast no shadows at high noon.

This could be a clue. If the earth is flat, then the sun's rays would hit the earth the same way, no matter where you were on the planet. But if it's round, Then the shadows cast at noon will be different depending on where they sit on the curvature of the earth. All Eratosthenes needs is the distance between these two Egyptian cities, and he might be able to figure out the answer. So he hires a man to take on the journey and waits with anticipation until he gets back. The man walks along the Nile. The ribbon of water that cuts through the dusty sand dunes, the watering hole of civilization. As he walks and walks and walks, he passes trains of camels, reeds blow in the river, ibises fly above him, his leather shoes hit the sand. He stops under an occasional palm tree to cool off. These palm trees are sparsely placed along the riverbank and are the only objects that cast shadows around him other than himself. I don't know how he kept track, if he kept a papyrus roll in his pocket, tallying each step he takes, or if he magically is able to keep it all in his head. But after weeks, maybe a month, the man traces and retrace the Nile from south to north all the way down and all the way back up again. The Nile River is his lone star in a country made of sand one day. He returns with the count. When he arrives back in Alexandria, more fit and tan and well traveled, he walks up the steps of the Alexandria Library. He wipes the dust from Syene off his clothes. He sees Eratosthenes hunched over one of the 700, 000 scrolls in this grand library. He walks up to his boss and delivers the count. Eratosthenes face lights up. He rushes to find a blank scroll and sketches out a few math problems. After doing a quick proportion equation,

I’ve got it! 

Eratosthenes has just discovered the circumference of the world. He grabs the shoulders of the hired man in joy. This weary traveler has just made a huge contribution to how we understand the world. The Earth is round, it has no edges, and Eratosthenes proves this with nothing more than a piece of paper, a math problem, and a pair of sore feet.

And unlike his intrepid traveler for hire, the man who discovered that the world is a sphere will never experience the full roundness of his discovery. But a woman, who will travel the total circumference of the globe, has set sail for Egypt.

I'm Adrien Behn, and this is Strangers Abroad, a race around the world. Based on the true adventure of Nellie Bly. 

Nellie Bly Sails Through the Mediterranean towards Egypt

Day 11. November 25th. 

Nellie is as weary as that Egyptian traveler. In the early hours of November 25th, Nellie is up on deck admiring the lapis colored water around her. She did not get the rest she desperately needed. After she sprinted through Brindisi to her boat, her sleep was constantly disrupted. First, she forgot to close her circular window above her bed, so when sailers mopped the deck above her cabin, buckets of sudsy water streams through the window, down the walls, and onto her and her bed. By the time she cools off, dries off and tries to go back to sleep, the stewards on the ship knock on the door to clean the rooms and kick her out of bed. So she slips into a lighter silk bodice and goes up on deck. She leans over the railing, staring out at the boat create white foamy stripes in the midnight blue mediterranean. She feels weights behind her eyes. They feel so heavy. All of this travel has been much rougher on her body than she would have guessed. She looks around at her fellow passengers. Although it's winter in the Northern Hemisphere, it's warmer in the Mediterranean. Nellie finally gets to leave her camel hair coat behind and enjoy some sun. She looks around and sees the first glimpse of passengers lazing about in their summer garments.

She stares out at the smooth, glassy water. The bluest she has ever seen, the balmy air hits her skin. The wind tosses her hair back as she leans over the side of the deck, watching the ship cut through the whooshing waves below them. 

As she takes it all in, with the heat hitting her skin, leaning over these mesmerizing blues water,

Standing here, alone among strange people on strange waters, I thought how sweet life is.

As the sun rises, so does her mood. She feels a rush of excitement zip through her body. She looks out at small Greek islands passing them by in the distance, she inhales the ancient energy of these well traveled waters. She closes her eyes and feels the sun warm her cheeks and forehead. She takes it all in... then she looks around to see who else is up on deck. She turns and sees her English cabin companion sitting on a deck chair and waves her over. Nellie’s cabin mate is surrounded by a small group of other young British women. Nellie walks over to them and all of the women welcome her. They make room in their circle and start asking her dozens of questions. 

And Nellie checks a prejudice. She thought that the English female passengers would be a little bit more aloof. But instead, they are completely fascinated with her. Being an American, she's a bit of an oddity. And a solo traveler? Forget about it. The women together all cluck and coe about Nellie’s journey and their own adventures. 

Nellie and these women talked from sun up to sun down. Nellie appreciates being with other women who are interested in getting to know each other instead of staying cooped up in their cabins or being confined to their male companions. That night, the women gather and  listen to second class passengers play their music.

When there were no chairs we would all sit down on the deck, and I remember nothing that was more enjoyable than these little visits. 

Three Marriage Proposals

However, as she bonds with her fellow female passengers, she doesn't seem to tell them all of the specifics of her trip. Like how it's a race and everything. So, because Nellie doesn't get in front of her narrative, it doesn't take long for a rumor about her to germinate. Only after about a few days, one of Nellie's new friends comes up to her and tells her that gossip is spreading. 

Word is going around that you're an eccentric American heiress, traveling about with nothing more than a hairbrush and a bank book. 

I judge that some of the attention I was receiving was due to the story of my quote, wealth.

So when the rumor hit the men's ears, several of them reared their heads in Nellie's direction. The first man who approached her introduced himself As the Honorable Wintam Curtin, a small young man with a bushy red mustache. 

You are the kind of girl that I like and so I'm the second son of an earl and my brother got all the money in the title so I am on the lookout for a wife who could give me a stipend of a thousand pounds a year.

Which is roughly 84, 000. 

Nellie is flabbergasted but not rendered mute. 

He flirtatiously asked me for my hand. And when he asked, what would you do with me if I said yes, I would put you to work. 

Somehow, her response sours his mood.

On to marriage proposal number two. 

There was another young man on board who was quite a unique character and much more interesting to me. 

I have been traveling the world non stop since I was nine years old. And all I’ve ever wanted is to marry a woman who wanted to travel as much as he did. But I expect that I could never find a woman who could travel with fewer trunks than him. 

Until Nelly noticed. That he is very exquisitely dressed and changes his clothes at least three times a day. 

So she asks,

How many trunks do you have? 

Nineteen. 

I no longer wondered at his fears of getting a wife who could not travel without trunks.

When she gets her third marriage proposal, Nelly's had enough. It’s time to go undercover again. Nellie looks at her third suitor with wide eyes as he fumbles through his marriage proposal to her. She coughs, puts her hand to her brow. She takes him by the hand. 

I have a confession to make. I am not a wealthy heiress.

Far from it. In reality, I'm a beggar from New York City. You see, my health is poor and some charities have scrounge up some money to send me around the world before I pass. The nuns back home hoped that I would find some benefit from the sea air. Cough, cough, cough, cough, cough. 

Her suitor straightens his lapels and wishes her good health.

The line of suitors ended after that. 

Now that she isn't being stopped by every wealthy man, she goes to enjoy music played by the second class passengers by herself.

Better than all to me, it was to sit in a dark corner on the deck above, where the sailors had their food and listened to the sounds of tom toms. And weird musical chantings that always accompanied their every meal. 

The sailors are Laskers, and Laskers are what Westerners called Asian men, usually from India, China, or Malaysia who worked for Westerners as soldiers or sailors. In reality, they are indentured servants. They sleep in cramped quarters and are underpaid, if paid at all, and overworked. Their work is rough and most men had to rely on a translator between them and their captain. They lived in British ports between sails and often fell into poverty when there were too many men and too few shipping jobs. On the ship, they live in cramped spaces as Nellie shares a clean, comfortable cabin with one other English girl. They are the people who silently push travelers around the world and make their rides smooth. Lascars are invisible hands whose work helps get Nellie and all travelers around the globe safely, quickly, and smoothly.

Nellie Bly Arrives in Egypt and Explores Port Said

Day 13, November 27th.

On the afternoon of the 27th, Nelly sees land again, only this time it is golden and green. Egypt. Anneli is 12 percent into her total journey. The golden, mystical land opens up to them. A land of pharaohs, mummies, and pyramids. The steamship anchors at Port Said, a northern coastal Egyptian city that rests on the mouth of the Suez Canal like a beauty mark.

Before 1859, it was an arid, rural piece of land, home to a few fishermen and seagulls. Then, the creation of the Suez Canal cracked it open and built it up. Now, this sleepy fisherman town is one of the most visited ports on the planet. And Nellie is particularly excited for this stretch of the journey, because the Middle East is truly unfamiliar territory. As Middle Easterners were just starting to emigrate to America. 

From the deck, Nellie notices Egyptian palm trees shading newly developed white buildings. A hazy mountain outline towers over aquamarine waters. In the harbor, boats crowd the shore, ready for trade, or to make a quick pit stop before they head through the Suez Canal. And a warm, ancient breeze blows over her. She's about to step onto the land where civilizations were born and where humans evolved from apes. 

By the time they anchored, everyone on the Victoria hadn't seen land for a few days. And Port Said wasn't that much to look at. But it could have been a ghost town and people wouldn't have cared. Everyone on the ship welcomed a change of scenery. As coal is being shoveled into the ship, Nellie decides to explore this desert city.

For a few hours on their layover, as they head towards the gangplank, Nellie notices that all of the British men and women bring canes and umbrellas with them. When Nellie inquired, some men mentioned it was to keep the beggars off. Nellie is appalled. So when she sees several of her British passengers pick up these canes and umbrellas,

I don't bring any of this because I think that a stick beats more ugliness into a person than it ever beats out. 

The ship is surrounded with a fleet of small boats. These local boatmen are all competing with each other and shout at passengers on Nellie’s ship to come into their boats. As she waits for her turn, she watches as some of the steamboat sailors and passengers beat these local boatmen off with long poles so the passengers are able to get onto the boats carefully. Nellie’s eyes are wide and she watches in horror as some local boatmen grab at passengers that have entered others boats, trying to pull more customers into their boats.

This is appalling! 

Now it's Nellie's turn. She puts out her left hand and slips it into the hand of a local boatman. She gingerly steps off the gangplank. She squeezes his hand tightly and feels the cracks in his hand as he steadies her. Then she spins and sits down with no hassle. Once everyone is settled they head towards the shore. Then the boat stops, halfway to land, and the local boatmen demand payment. Because apparently the English are known for not paying once they've reached the shore. Nellie hands over her coins and notices that she is caught in these strange social patterns of the globe. This cycle happens every week like clockwork. The boat reaches the shore and she steps off into the sand. sinking ankle deep until they reach the promenade. Nellie surveys the city. Her original image of Egypt included more pyramids, dust, and gold, but this land was surprisingly verdant. The rim of the city is shaded by dark green sycamore and mulberry trees. Floppy palm trees peppered the edge of the beach and the entrance to the city. As they make their way from the harbor to the city proper, peddlers swarm the passengers. selling Turkish delights and cigarettes. Others just hold out their hands and scream bakşiş, asking for charity in a sea of people. Before she can clock the abject poverty, she's surrounded by local boys who offer people rides on their donkeys. Nellie turns to see the harbor and there's a large statue of Ferdinand de Lesseps elevated above on the edge of the water. Arms and head forward in a position of pride and glory. He is the French man who convinced the Egyptians to open the Suez canal at the death of 10, 000 locals.

Nelly's eyes trace along the promenade. The sun's light is bright and harsh here. But she doesn't want to shop either. Her grip sack needs to be kept light. Especially if she has to do any more mad dashes like in Italy. So instead, she takes a gamble on her time. A small group of Nelly and her fellow passengers decide to go into an Egyptian casino house.  As Nelly walks through the streets, she passes by more than just Egyptians. Some men wore fezes, others wore planters hats or pith helmets. As she walks through the wide streets, looking at markets with small mountains of fruit or spices, perfuming the streets with aromas of cinnamon, honey, and salt water. She felt the history that has been building up since humans first stood up and she walked by the people who still carry that history with them. She passes by bungalows, billiard parlors, smoke shops, dance halls, cafes, some signs are written in English, others in French or Arabic. Packs of dogs lie in the streets, covered in flies and waiting for scraps of food. Men sit outside at cafe tables, drinking cups of steaming black coffee or tea out of tiny curved glasses. Together, this group walks through the dusty hot streets and Nelly looks up at women in burkas with their faces painted hanging over balconies.

Women in Egypt

Their eyes are outlined in coal and their lips are painted with carmine, redder than poppies. Women who were once Queens who ruled Egypt, had been severely demoted. At the height of the Egyptian empire, women were equal to men, no matter her marital status. Ancient women were able to be merchants, run their own businesses, or be high priestesses. They were intricately involved in the social, economic, political, and spiritual spheres. And their independence allowed them to divorce their husbands, own their own property, and live alone. But when the Egyptian dynasties fell, it took women's rights down with them. As Nellie goes about the Streets of Port Said, she mostly sees women in the home and men outside. At least it's mildly permissible in Nellie’s world for her to be taking this kind of a trip. Finally, they arrive in the casino. When one of her companions opens the doors, traces of smoke and opium seep out into the streets. There are Egyptian singers performing in one corner. THEY SURVEY THE space. This wooden windowless room is packed. Nellie settles up at the wheel of fortune, which she spends more of her time playing.

Everything is so cheap here, and, well, this is such a thrill. I want to bet higher and higher and higher. 

Nellie is fine to be a silly tourist throwing her money away for the afternoon. After losing to the house, the crew exits the casino and slowly makes their way back to the boat. As they pass more shops, the only thing Nellie does buy is a sun hat, which is customary in the East. This purchase is justified. The hat will protect her from the sun as she ventures deeper into the tropics and closer to the equator. Nellie wears her new sun helmet strapped to her head, tied by a muslin scarf under her chin to block out the blinding white sun. As Nellie and her entourage walk back to the ship, she passes by streets lined with beggars. The beggars here are so used to outsiders that they barely attract any attention. Her heart is heavy with how many beggars are just lying on the street, arms outstretched, trying to appeal to the passersby. 

They had a hardening effect on me. 

Well, I don't have that much, but at least my mother and I never had to beg.

She feels embarrassed that she just threw her money away on some gambling game, when these people are begging for change on the street. 

I just, I just wish this wasn't happening. I don't want them to look at me. I can't help them. They can't possibly think I'm rich. I'm not, I'm not a millionaire like Pulitzer.

Nellie places her palm on a shaded stone wall, trying to feel some cold. Nellie witnesses the dichotomy of travel. All of the beauty and all the sadness. 

I wish I could do more. I'm just passing by just to get on with my race. Just close your eyes. It'll just be easier to get through. 

Even after all of her undercover reporting of corruption and exploitation in America, this level of extreme poverty and exploitation of the locals was sobering. Something she hadn't considered is whether or not she can handle what the world will show her. She makes her way back to the harbor, Nellie feels weighed down, even though she's only bought a light hat.

As the promenade opens up, Nellie looks out at a train of camels. She passes by women in black burkas with naked babies strapped to their hips. As they get closer to shore, Nellie notices a group of men wrestling with something in the water. It’s a crocodile! A dozen men surround it, fastening its mouth with rope and some strong knots. Nellie's never seen one alive, let alone so close, and being wrangled by a bunch of men? Egypt is a completely different world than her Appalachian upbringing. The biggest beasts she had to deal with were maybe the occasional black bear, but here crocodiles, camels, cypress trees. This was other people's normal. She is breathlessly fascinated. Something shifts inside of her. The world feels much larger than she originally thought, and much more complicated.

It starts to look a little different than what she expected.

Soon, the darkness descends. Nellie gets back on the little ferry, gives her coins to the local sailor, and gets back on the Victoria. And when she gets back onto the ship, She feels it make a sharp right turn and heads into the Suez Canal.

Nellie Bly Sails through the Suez Canal

Day 14, November 28th. 

At the first rosy blush of dawn, Nellie wakes up early on the 28th. She wants to look at the sun hitting this world changing canal. This line of water connects two worlds and stretches a hundred and twenty miles long. She hustles up to the deck, squints, shakes her head, and upon one glance, she wishes she had stayed in bed. She saw nothing more than an enormous ditch, enclosed on either side with high sandbags and just endless desert around it. And the ship felt like it was hardly moving. She feels every heat particle stick to her skin. Now the slow pace of the ship is deliberate. Since the Suez Canal was opened, there's been an obvious influx of boats passing through. So they had to limit how many ships were going through at a time. And if they were going too fast, it would make the sandbanks erode. So no ship was allowed to go more than six knots. The 120 mile journey would take a full day to get through. A sloth doing a doggy paddle wearing a gravity blanket could have gone faster than this boat.

So this gave the passengers a little too much time to gripe about the situation. Nellie knows by then that complaining is an Olympic sport for the British.

Our passengers are mostly English people and not the jolliest lot in the world.

To pass the time, chats up a man who seems to know everything about the Suez Canal. He's been traveling all of his life. She has nothing to do but sit back on her steamer chair and look out at the monotonous landscape. Enjoyment of being on deck and enjoying the views gets cut short. Nellie can only enjoy the scenery when they are going at her pace. 
Frankly, this is taking forever. How much longer will we have to go this slow? How can I make up for this lost time? 

Nellie slaps her arm. The thick air and semi still waters make this an ideal landscape for mosquitoes. She spends the time counting how many mosquitoes she's killed. Her mind wanders. Less than a week ago, she was rushing through barren, wintry France, and now she is miles away in the Middle East, surrounded by white sand and dotted with palm trees and traveling at the speed of a dying fish. What a whiplash. 

Continuing the journey through the canal, we saw little of interest. 

People on other boats wave at each other and shout over. They ask where Nellie’s boat came from and where it is heading and people on Nellie’s boat wave and shout back the same questions before they are pulled away in opposite directions. Passengers just made the same small talk and repeated stories that they had already told as the land... 

Nellie Bly Enters the Bay of Suez 

For miles, they pass other ships moving slow enough where passengers on other ships can shout over and ask about Nellie’s voyage and where they are headed. Nellie fans herself all day from the stifling heat. Even though it doesn’t feel like it, time does pass. And finally, when the sun drops down below the horizon, they drop anchor at the Bay of Suez. The passengers can’t get off the ship, but that’s fine because plenty of locals come to them. A number of small sailboats with white sails glide up to the steamship. They remind Nellie of moths, flocking to a light. They're filled with salesmen pedaling fruits or photographs or old shells. But the passengers don't need more stuff. They need entertainment. And in this crew of traveling salesmen, there are a few entertainers and one of them takes his craft seriously. A juggler. He wore a sash and a turban, and deep in his heavy baggy pockets are two lizards and a small rabbit. Everyone gathers round him, and then once the juggler feels like he has the crowd's attention, he scans through all of the passengers, and out of all of the people, he points to Nelly to be his assistant. Nellie gladly steps forward. She stands next to him in front of the small semicircle of passengers gathered around them. The juggler raises his hands and shows a handkerchief. He shakes it out, flips it around, waves it through the air to demonstrate that it's nothing more but a simple piece of fabric. The juggler then takes out a small brass bangle and does the same thing. Tosses it in the air, puts it on his wrist, pretends to put the handkerchief through the bangle. The juggler then turns to Nellie and she smiles at him.

He then places the handkerchief in my hand, telling me to hold it tightly. I did so, feeling the presence of the bangle very plainly. He blew on it, and jerking the handkerchief loose from my grasp, shook it much to the amazement of the crowd. The bangle was gone.

The juggler bows. Everything is going perfectly. People hand him coins from their pockets. Now, he knows he has the audience on his side. The juggler reaches over to grab the props for his second act. He bends down into his bag and... Can't find them, he panics. His eyes are wide with fear that his props might have hopped or slithered away. Until he notices wrestling in the audience. The animals didn't escape. Some of the passengers had stolen them. He demands they give him back his pets. One young man took the rabbit from his pocket and meekly returned it to the juggler. He sighs in relief and pats his bunny. Then another lizard is found in a corner, but the other is missing. Then, it's time for the visitors to leave the ship and the juggler leaves with two thirds of his animals. Once the ship sets sail, several of Nellie's passengers come up to her and ask how the trick was done.

It was an old, very uninteresting trick.

And she breaks down the mechanics of the act.

One of the men who listened to this explanation became very indignant and wanted to know if I knew positively how this trick had been done and why I had not exposed the man. I merely explained that I wanted to see the juggler get his money, much to the disgust of the Englishman. 

Nellie wants to get away from this gentleman, so Nellie goes up on deck one last time to watch the sun leave the day. The sunset transforms the blazing blue sky into shades of lilac and violet. Now in the darkness, Nellie can point out groups on the shore at night. Arab encampments sprinkled the shore with small tents. Men and women wrapped in layers of thin cloth surrounded by fire. Camels curl up on the ground like cats. Nellie tries to take a mental photograph of this timeless image. Then she heads off to bed, and quietly celebrates being out of the Suez. 

Nellie Bly Coasts through the Red Sea

Day 15, November 29th. 

Now out in the Suez, they're able to chart along much faster. The ship parts the Red Sea, as Nelly heads further south. The eastern side of Egypt passes by her right, and to her left is the western edge of the waning Ottoman Empire. During her peaceful, lazy afternoons on the Red Sea, the most traveling she does is from her easy chair to the side of the deck. She looks over and looks at the rich blue beneath her. What a strange thing to name a sea. It's so blue. Nellie sadly will not get to see the seasonal blooms of the red colored algae that turns the water's surface red.

And beneath her, It's one of the world's richest coral reefs. Over 300 species of coral line the entire coastline, with 1, 200 kinds of fish and 10 kinds of sharks, along with dolphins, turtles, and manta rays. Swimming in and around it, Nellie breathes the thick Arabian air. She's out of Egypt and is skirting along the southern edge of the middle east.

Nellie loves the feeling of being on the move as the world passes her by. Although she is enjoying being on the sea, she wants nothing more to slow her down. Nellie loves the feeling of being in the middle of it all. While Nellie enjoys being lazy, The World Newspaper is in a frenzy.

The New York World’s Brilliant Idea

On November 29th, two weeks and a day into the race, the World Sunday Paper makes an announcement. After hemming and hawing on how to get the race more attention, The editors finally had a bright idea. When readers open their Sunday papers, a small coupon is placed inside of it. On it, readers could guess and submit when Nelly will come back home.

Whoever's guess is closest to the winning time will win a free trip to Europe. It's a guessing game within a race. I mean, we bet on horses, so why should this be any different?

Do not fail to order your Sunday World at once. To fill out a blank therein with a guess.

Free trip to Europe, every reader's head snapped into attention. Reading closer, people would have to guess the closest day, hour, minute, and second that both of Nellie's feet step onto the Jersey City train platform. Anyone could participate and can submit as many tickets as they would like. The coupons are only printed in the Sunday newspaper, the more expensive one, naturally. The coupon itself is beautiful. It's a Victorian illustration of Nelly wrapping a measuring tape around the circumference of the globe, sitting on a bed of clouds. Under her, the ticket lays out all of the rules, the name of the guesser, their address and the date of the guess, and at the bottom of the ticket reads, in bold,

Guess early and often.

It was like a Willy Wonka ticket, and people aggressively bought newspapers like those candy bars. Between now and the last Sunday before Nellie comes home, readers could buy as many papers as they wanted. And the winner could travel anytime in 1890. and visit London, Paris, and possibly Rome. Nelly's little blue dot is now in the minds of thousands of people all over the nation. Anyone who had access to the world's newspaper now had an incentive to pay attention to the race around the world. The World newspaper often reminded its readers that their intrepid traveler left on November 14th at 9. 40 and 30 seconds in the morning. People who are trying to calculate Nelly's return time, scramble to get maps of the world, steamship itineraries, and train timetables. The week that the guessing game is announced, people calculate that Nelly has to be somewhere in the Mediterranean or the Suez Canal. They started making their own maps of how far and how long it has taken Nelly To get from New York to the Suez Canal. Everyone could only guess on a hope and a prayer. And on November 29th, the day the announcement was made, The coupons began trickling in, similar to how a few snowflakes fall from the sky before a massive Nor'easter hits. The editors at The World received their first hundred tickets rather quickly by Monday morning, then their first thousand, then two thousand. And it didn't slow down from there. By Tuesday morning, the offices are littered with these tiny 5 inch coupons. Some people send in 20 at a time and inform the editors that they will be doing so every week until the race is over. At the time, the New York Business Mail delivered four times a day. And with each delivery, the pile grew higher and higher and higher, turning that sprinkling of coupons into a glacier. Guesses were arriving faster than editors could count them. And Pulitzer sat back. He had finally found the jackpot he was looking for. 

Nellie Bly Arrives in Aden, Yemen

Day 16, November 30th.

But all of this chatter will not hit Nelly's ears. She is blissfully ignorant, and worlds away from the excitement. She has no idea about the guessing game, people’s thoughts about her or that there is even another woman in the race. She's just happy that she's keeping to her schedule, unaware that thousands of people have her little blue dot in their minds eye. Nellie spends four days on the Red Sea. As they exit the Red Sea and hit the entrance of the Indian Ocean, the ship needs to refuel one last time on the peninsula of Aden. It's another British port that they bargained with the Ottomans over. As they move closer to the city, Nellie stares out on deck at the high brown mountains to her left. The city is built in the crater of a dead volcano. Everything here seems to have a biblical bend to it. Local Yemenis legend believes that Aden is as old as human history itself. Some believe that Cain and Abel are buried somewhere around here. For centuries, Aden has always been a resting place for sailors, hustling through the Indian Ocean from Europe, around Africa, and over to Asia for everything they wanted to trade. And once the British took it over... Now, as a free trading port, the trading community exploded. Massive amounts of liquor, salt, weapons, opium, coffee, tea came in and out of the city. And once the steamships entered the game, it became a necessary coaling station to restock on fuel to get from one side of Asia to the other.  As Nellie's ship anchors near the land that sees 344 days of sun a year, Nellie's ship has made up for the time they lost in the Suez Canal. By the time they reach Aden, Nellie has traveled just shy of 7, 000 miles. Almost a third of her journey is complete. 

They anchor shortly after 11 a. m. Nellie states that like clockwork, their boat was surrounded by a number of smaller boats, bringing them peddlers selling wonderful items from the east. No canes this time. The captain had warned the passengers that they should not go ashore to Aden because of the intense heat. So most of the women stayed on board, but I bet you can guess what Nellie's decision is.

Me and a few other reckless ones, well, we decided to brave the heat. We wanted to see what Aiden had to offer.

A local sailor rides them onto shore and Nellie admires how ordinary people dress very ornately. Nelly chats up the boatman who rows them to shore. He wears a string of gold, black, and silver beads over his body. Around his waist is a multicolored sash. His arms and ankles are weighed down by heavy bracelets, and each finger and toe holds one to two rings. He speaks in English, and Nelly and him get to chat about his life. He has three wives and eleven children. And by the grace of the power of his faith, he hopes to increase that number. The boatman tells her about the sandstorms that sweep over Aidan, sometimes so intense that it blocks out the whole sky. Nellie can relate. She's seen the pollution back in Pittsburgh. She then looks around at the men swimming in the water. Some of them have bleached their hair by rubbing lime into it. As they bob along in the water, the men sing a local song in harmony. As they glide towards the entrance, The wind whips around a few strands of hair not tucked under her sun hat.

Nellie stares up at the pelicans and seagulls flying over her head in the distance. The city is flanked by massive old mountains, jagged and gray, barren and wrinkled like the local elders she will walk by. The water here is a slate blue and ominous. The city is cradled in the valley, wrapped with these jagged grey mountains. The shore is dotted with little green fisherman's boats. This was a land that was built on prophecy, and Nellie can feel it. 

Nellie notices a panopticon looking down from a hill. This majestic white building is perched on a bare mountain,  created for English sailors who were stationed in this barren land, 1700 feet above sea level. English flag, waving in the wind, casting shadows, as Nellie considers the colonialism of the British Empire. 

As I traveled on and realized more than ever before how the English have stolen almost all, if not all, the desirable seaports.

They pull up onto shore, and Nellie and her intrepid passenger friends hired a carriage and head down a wide, smooth road that takes them along the beach.

Eventually, they arrive in the White City. The land is dry and ashy and the heat beats down on them. Few trees offered shade. Nellie watches water carriers from the bay filling up their goatskins with water as locals load up cut stones onto camels' backs. They pas through the entrance of the city, passing the British Sentinels, pacing to and fro under a large stone double gate, while walking on dusty roads.

Nelly feels an oldness she's never experienced before. 

Nelly walks around these densely packed markets. She watches fishermen chop heads and the ground shimmers with fish scales. She stops at a burlap sack of coffee beans and skims a few of them off the top. Their oil absorbs into her fingertips. The smell of roasting coffee mingles with the scent of flatbreads baking in stone ovens, roasted lamb and spicy lentils. Shops were run by Parsis, descendants of Zoroastrianism. Men drink tea on small stools in front of shops, all layered in patterned robes. Women wrap themselves in thin silks.

Women in Yemen

And were as well adorned as Nellie's sailor friend, covered in hoops and rings, bracelets and chains. Any limb that could hold a hoop did. Before the arrival of Islam, like Egypt, Yemeni women had a strong voice in society. There was the mythical Queen of Sheba and her glorious abundance. Then there was the real life Queen Arba, the only female monarch to rule in the Muslim world. But since then, the tides had changed, and when Nellie is exploring Aden, the society is deeply patriarchal, and women were stripped of all of their rights. Men can marry up to four wives, and women do not always have the free will to agree to a marriage. Every union has to be approved by male guardians. Mothers loses her rights to visit her children if she chooses to leave her husband. Nellie watches as some figureless bodies covered head to toe in black cloth pass her by. Only the skin around their eyes is visible, making their black eyes, lined in dark charcoal, pop out even more. Nellie feels the sun beat down on her cheeks and the back of her neck. Although their attire is starkly different. They both did what they can, with the rules that were set by men.

The sun dips closer to the horizon, and now, her short time in Aden comes to a close. Nellie and her crew turn around with no relief from the heat. And they load back up onto the boat. Nellie leans over the side of the deck, looming out at this ancient, arid land. And she notices down below, some Somali boys are diving and swimming around the boat, singing songs together.

They wave goodbye at the boat, and Nellie waves back at them. Then she hears them scream from below, beckoning the passengers to jump into the water. What she wouldn't give to have some relief from the heat. She watched as some of her fellow passengers throw sparkling gold coins into the crystal clear waters. The local boys dive in the moment the silver hits the water.

They disappeared like flying fish, holding their breaths for minutes. Then finally, one of them would bob up and have the silver stuck in his teeth. All while swimming in shark infested waters. But the locals know how to slather their bodies in a grease that offends the sharks and leaves the locals alone. They swam with such an ease as if they had gills and fins of their own. 

But after seven hours in Aden, They're finally ready to set sail for Colombo, Ceylon, and Nellie will officially arrive in Asia. In her days in North Africa and the Middle East, all Nellie can think about is how incredible this world was, how different and normal all of this felt.

During this trip, Nellie has only been focusing on how big the world is, but now she considers how old it is too. The Middle East harbors a truly ancient energy she’s never felt coming from such a young country. 

Nellie considers the other side of travel. All of the beauty and pain of it. For so long, she's only been thinking about the physical aspect of racing around the world. But does she have the emotional strength to handle all that the world will throw at her? The world will show its raw sides to Nellie too. But Nellie has plenty of time to think about it and unwind during the next seven days at sea as she crosses the Indian Ocean to Colombo, ceylon. And little does she know that when she lands in Colombo, her commentator will also be taking her first step on Japanese soil.  

Episode Four:

Nellie Bly Eurotreks

from England to Italy

Listen : Apple Podcasts and Spotify

Episode Summery

November 22nd-November 25th: While Elizabeth Bisland leaves America, Nellie Bly makes contact with her first country. She arrives in England and is informed by reporters, who escort her, that Jules Vern, the author of the fictional A Race Around the World would like to meet her. Is going to a small town in France worth the detour to meet this famous author? Will she make it down in time to southern Italy to catch her steamboat to Egypt?

Credits

Jules Verne was played by Emanuel poche 

Newspaper man #2 and Tracey Greaves was played by Fabiana Martinez Sanchez 

London editor and Italian train conductor was played by Sam Dingman 

Newspaper man #1 was played by Jonathan Tenace 

Father Time was played by Jake Dingman

Resources

80 Days by Mathew Goodman

Around the World in 72 Days and Other Writings by Nellie Bly

Around the World in 80 Days by Jules Verne

Around the World in 72 Days: The Race Between Pulitzer's Nellie Bly and Cosmopolitan's Elizabeth Bisland by Jason Marks

A Race Around the World: The True Story of Nellie Bly and Elizabeth Bisland by Caroline Starr Rose (Author), Alexandra Bye (Illustrator)

Newspapers.com

Jules Verne

Jules Verne; French Author by Arther B. Evans, Britannica

Jules Verne, Wikipedia

Queen Victoria

Victoria: A Life by A.N Wilson

British Women’s Rights

Women’s Suffrage by Editors of the Encylopedic Britannica

Gender Equality Timeline by British Library

What 100 Years of British Women’s Suffrage Says About Women’s Rights Today BY SUYIN HAYNES, Time, UPDATED: FEBRUARY 6, 2018

French Women’s Rights

Women's Rights in France by James Chastain at Ohio. edu, publish 1994

Women in the French Revolution: From the Salon to the Streets by Taru Spiegel, Library of Congress Blog, July 14th, 2020

Women in Napoleonic France, Library of Congress editors

The (sexist) Napoleonic Code was established in 1804 by Bruce G. Kauffmann, Tribune Star, March 24th, 2019

Italian Women’s Rights

Feminism in Italy, Wikipedia

The Book of the City of Ladies by Christine de Pizan 1404

Women in Italy, Wikipedia

The Role of Women in the Italian Renaissance by Anisia Iacob, The Collector, November 20, 2021

Sounds

Freesounds.org 

Soundstripe.com 

Epidemic sounds 

Blue Dot Sessions

Xenocanto.com

Transcript

Intro: Jules Verne

When Jules Verne was 11, he once tried to sneak onto a ship headed for the West Indies. The LA River divides his hometown of Nates into two and connects directly to the Atlantic Ocean. Crooners pass through regularly headed for faraway lands, jewels dreamed of the tropical paradises where Robinson Crusoe or the Swiss Family Robinson landed. All he ever wanted was to explore the world through his own eyes. And the closest way to make his fantasies a reality was to lie about his age. One day when he was 11, he was hired as a cabin boy and would soon be heading to tropical destinations of the Far East until the captain discovered he was not 16. The lack of facial hair and high voice probably gave him away. When Jules returned home, his mother was worried beyond belief and implored him to travel in his mind. He can go too far away places without being put in harm's way. Jules was unsatisfied with his fate and remained so for quite some time. When he grew older, he moved to Paris and became a lawyer like his father and hated it. Then he started working in the stock exchange, and he hated that too. He wrote in his spare time. And then one day his father offered to close the whole law practice. He would be set for life. But jewels pier down the two paths his life could take.

Am I wrong to follow my own instinct? It is because I know who I am that I realize what I can be one day.

He let go of the law office and double down on his own writing. Soon after he met the man who would edit and publish many of his books. And Jules got his first best seller. Five weeks in a balloon was a hit. Jules quit his job at the stock Exchange to work as a full time writer, and he becomes the father of science fiction. He took people to places that they could only go in their imagination. Books like Journey to the Center of the Earth. 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. And From the Earth to the Moon. His books were turned into theater adaptations, and he gained global recognition. A launching pad for his imagination. I was reading articles about new technology and travel. During those years, Jules settled down with his family in Amnes and some. Sometime in the early 1870s. Jules sat down at a café in Paris. He took out his newspaper and flipped through it. Until he came across an article about how a travel agency was offering tickets that would take people around the world in 80 days. Since the French and the British had strong arms, the Egyptian government, into building the Suez Canal. It is now possible to circumnavigate the globe faster than ever. Hell, just a mere 80 days. Jules chewed on this idea in between bites of his croissant as he sat in that cafe. Not a bad idea for a book. By 1872, the book was done. The story's protagonist is of a wealthy Englishman named Phileas Fogg, who is backed by another wealthy friend to go around the world in, you know how much time. And leaves with only a few hours notice. From there, adventure ensues. Fogg manages to win the bet, but only because he can buy his way out of any situation. Showing us that money, not coal, keeps the world moving. Once the book was published, people devoured it. Jewels sold 10,000 copies in his first print, and it's translated into numerous languages. The book itself is sold around the world. Jewels Success was meteoric. Until a terrible twist of fate. In 1886, as he was returning home, his unstable 26 year old nephew Gaston, shot at him twice with a pistol. The first bullet missed, but the second one entered Jules's left leg, giving him a permanent limp and left him homebound. Juelz was once again forced to travel in his imagination. Years ticked on in the comforts of his small mansion. And I'm days. Until one November day in 1889, he receives a telegraph from a Parisian correspondent writing for the New York World. The message explains that a female journalist from New York is racing his fictional character around the world. And would Mr. Verne like to meet her?

I'm Adrien Behn, and this is Strangers Abroad, a race around the world. Based on the true story of Nellie Bly.

Nellie Bly Arrives in England

The longest race on record. Any more women to come?

The first week of travel is over for both women as one boat leaves the San Francisco wharf. Another arrives in England. Nellie. His week of travel was not as exciting as Lizzie's. Nellie has been staring out at the Atlantic for the past seven days. She cured her seasickness and made friends with everyone on the ship. But when she wants to be alone, she goes up on deck. The wind cools her cheeks and whips her bangs around. She stares out at the gray slab of sky and sea around her. A single white seagull flies above her head. Although being on a ship is a little boring, Nellie still rides on the excitement that she is heading east, venturing towards the oldest civilizations in the world. And she can't wait to get there. Why? I can't believe this plan actually worked.

Day seven November 21st.

At 1 p.m. on the 21st land is spotted, but they do arrive a few hours behind schedule. The passengers hear the news during lunch. Everyone drops their forks and napkins and rushes to the deck. They are as excited as if they had just discovered Atlantis. I cannot give any good reason for it, but I knew that I looked at the first point of bleak land with more interest than I would have bestowed on the most beautiful bit of scenery in the world. But Nelly can't celebrates just yet because Raine welcomes them to the UK. Unsurprisingly, and delays their transfer for six teen hours. That whole time, Nelly waits on deck, making small talk or nervously pacing. What is taking so long? We had been making great time. I can see land. It's right there. I can almost touch it. I can't let anything get in my way. I have to keep moving. She can't get comfortable because she has to be at the front of the line to go to London. The heat of her frustration keeps her alert and warm. The storm sweeps away all of the rest. She got on the ship.

Day eight November 22nd.

Eventually, at 2:30 in the morning of November 22nd, a tugboat emerges from the choppy, darkened waters. Finally. But is every transfer going to be 60 hours behind? I can't wait a second longer. Nellie's eyes are bloodshot. Her hair is frizzy from the wind at her clothes are damp from the rain. A group of men come on board from the tugboat and a man's unfamiliar voice shouts out her name.

Nellie Bly! Nellie Bly!

It's the London correspondent Tracy Greaves, who will escort her around London and to France.

Is your luggage ready to be transferred? So sorry for the delay. You know the English weather.

I have it all on me, and I'm ready to go.

As Nellie gets on the tugboat, she's covered 16% of the Earth's circumference. The first real leg of her journey is over, but she's already behind schedule. Her adrenaline rush keeps her awake as Tracy catches her up to speed. First, he tells her when the next train to London arrives. And second.

Mr. and Mrs. Jules Verne have sent a special letter asking that, if possible, you will stop by to see them.

Wait, wait, wait. Jules Verne. The Jules Verne. He wants to meet me. Oh, how? I should like to see them. Isn't it hard to be forced to decline such a treat?

If you are willing to go without sleep and rest for two nights. I think it can be safely done.

Nellie pauses. She weighs the pros and cons. I just lost 16 hours waiting for a boat. Can I really risk this detour? Every second counts. But this is a huge opportunity. Mr. Verne is one of the most famous authors in the world. If it weren't for him, why, I wouldn't be on this journey. And it would be great for the story. But can I do it? I'm not sure I can risk it. But before she can convince herself otherwise safely without making me miss any connections. If so, don't think about sleep or rest. This is Nellie's first taste of how the whims of travel can derail your plan in an instant. Nellie decides to gamble this early in the game. But she'll have Tracey by her side the whole time. As they get off the tugboat and head to the train station, Nellie steps on her first country, England. Sadly, Nellie won't have time to explore this culture or celebrate crossing the Atlantic. She only has 4 hours to accomplish all of her errands before she heads off to France. So as she steps onto the Express train to Waterloo Station, she stubs her toe and falls unceremoniously and on gracefully into her seat.

As Dawn approaches, they pull into London's famous station. They step outside and Tracey hails them a carriage. Nellie gets in and pulls back her curtains. She can barely see out her window. The fog is so thick she can't tell what time it is or if anyone is walking on the street.

A gray, misty fog hung like a ghostly pall over the city.

The tops of Westminster Abbey and the House of Parliament blur by as they drive over the Thames, as Nelly trots through the misty epicenter of the world. She passes by the most powerful ruler on the planet. Queen Victoria is possibly sleeping only a few blocks away in Kensington Palace.

British Women’s Rights

Now, just because the British have a female ruler does not mean that they're more progressive regarding gender roles. Queen Victoria was surprisingly conservative when it came to giving her female subjects rights. She mentioned in private that she found women's rights to be, quote, a mad, wicked folly. Fortunately, that never graced the ears of her female subjects. Many suffragettes in the UK were inspired by their female ruler and used Victoria as a model to demand for more. By the time Nelly is in London, British women have a smidge more rights than her on a national level. British women can get a university education and married women can legally keep the money that they make and inherit property. However, UK women will receive voting rights nine years behind Americans.

Nellie finally makes it to the World newspaper office in Trafalgar Square. Her first stop is to send a telegram to the editors back in New York. When she enters. Several reporters rush up to see her Nellie make small talk and has someone sent out a telegram back to the New York world telling them she has made it safely to England? In between the chatter, a reporter hands her a number of cables that have been sent to her from New York, and not one mentions that another woman has joined the race. Nellie leaves as quickly as she's arrived. The British correspondents wish her a bon voyage. As she rushes out to the American Legion to get her passport, Nelly heads back to her carriage and is carried through the streets, lined with old wooden and brick buildings. Plumes of chimney smoke puff out. Indistinguishable from the fog. They reached the American Legion office. And Mr. McCormick, a sweet old man, inks out Nellie's passport. Tracy waits around as all of the I's are dotted and T's are crossed. McCormick asks Nellie a series of questions.

How tall are you?

Five. Five.

What are the color of your eyes?

Green.

Where do you live?

New York City.

I suggest your companion go into the corner for the next question.

Well, what is the problem?

There is one question all women dread to answer, and as very few will give a truthful reply. I will ask you to swear to the rest and fill in the other question afterwards. Unless you have no hesitancy in telling me your age.

Nellie rolls her eyes. I will tell you my age. Swear to it. I am not afraid. My companion may come out of the corner. Nellie says a number. And Mr. McCormick finishes the paperwork. He blows on the ink to ensure it doesn't smudge and hands it off to her.

There you go. Have a safe travel.

Nellie grabs her passport and she and Tracey scurry to the carriage. Their last stop is the Peninsula and Oriental Steamship Company here. Nelly purchases eastbound tickets that will cover her trip from London to Japan and her ticket to France, where she's headed next. The clock seems to spin faster here because her few hours in London are suddenly over. She and Tracey scamper back to Waterloo to catch a train to a port that sits on the English Channel. Nestled in a pocket is her new crisp passport that swore she was 22 years old when really, she's 25. What's a lie going to hurt? She has other things to focus on, like meeting the man whose idea it was to race around the world.

Nellie Bly Arrives in France

After a long train ride to the edge of England and then a boat ride over the English Channel, Nelly and Tracy pull into the French harbor. She isn't able to get any real rest while being in transit, but she's in her second country now. Nelly is in a place where her native language is foreign. She realizes how helpless she might be in certain moments of her trip. I was in France now, and I began to wonder now what would happen to my fate if I had been alone as I had expected. I knew my companion spoke French. The language that all of the people around us were speaking. So I felt pretty easy on that score. Before they catch their train to where the ferns live. They stop in a little French cafe for a meal. We took our places at the table and Tracy began to order in French. The waiter looked blankly at him until at least more in a spirit of fun than anything else. I suggested that Tracy give the order in English. The waiter glanced at me with a smile and answered in English. That is so French. Welcome to France. The land of soft cheese. Thick wine, romance and revolutions. The area where the Gauls prospered and Napoleon always wanted to expand.

French Women’s Rights

The only thing Napoleon didn't want to broaden was women's rights. French women attempted to gain rights right after the French Revolution, but Napoleon quickly rolled that back. In 1804, he gave men legal authority over their wives and children, and married women became legal minors. Divorce was also illegal until 1884. However, education did extend to French girls, and higher class women were also welcomed at salons. That is where they could flex their ideas and intelligence around men. You know, once they put their children to bed, but their dreams would not make any legal gain for another 50 years. Within a few hours they arrive in Omni, and once the train pulls to a full stop, Nelly feels the real labor pains of her decision to make this out of the way. Pitstop. Nellie is sleep deprived, her hair is a mess and who knows what she's been able to eat. She's had no time to go to the bathroom and collect herself before meeting one of the world's most renowned authors. She steps off the train and as the crowd thins, a tiny couple is left waiting on the platform. Nellie can feel the vein on her neck, popping with anticipation. Oh, I'm so sweaty. I can't believe I'm about to meet him. Nellie immediately recognizes Jules Verne's long, rectangular face framed by a thick white beard. He is shorter than she expected. No taller than five. Five. And he's joined by his wife, Andre, who's not a centimeter taller than five two. Together, they look like Christmas elves. With them is a Parisian journalist who will be their translator as Nellie locks eyes with this author. She feels an electric excitement between everyone. She becomes uncharacteristically shy. I am nervous. I am travel stained. She is. Oh, I wish I had more time to tidy up. But she surrenders to the imperfect moment.

Hello. Lovely to meet you.

Bonjour. Hmm. Hello.

Jules Verne's bright eyes beamed on me with interest and kindness, and he greeted me with the cordiality of a cherished friend. There were no stiff formalities to freeze the kindness in all of our hearts. That before I had too many minutes in their company, they had won my everlasting respect and devotion.

The Verne's lead the way to their carriages back home, where they would have a quick bite before Nelly continues south towards Italy. The women take one carriage and the men take another. Madame Verne and Nellie are left riding together. It's a little awkward given that neither spoke the other's language.

Her knowledge of English consisted of no, and my French vocabulary consisted of oui? So our conversation was limited to a few apologetic and friendly smiles. Interlude saluted with an occasional pleasure of the hand. Indeed, Madame Burns is the most charming woman, and even in all this awkward position, she made everything most gracefully.

You get really good at charades once you start traveling. Both women face the windows and admire the scenery. Nellie gazes at the tiny town with its epic gothic architecture and small gingerbread houses clustered together. Chimney smoke snuck out into the cold air. A lavender hue stretches over the sky from an early setting sun. A massive cathedral at the center of town holds her attention. The carriage turns and slows and pulls to a full stop. Nellie gets out and stands in awe of their home. It's a mini French castle. She takes a breath and sets the intention to be composed and not let her fatigue take over. She spins around in the driveway to see all sides of this glorious property. But before she can take it all in. A large black, shaggy dog bounce towards her and in all of his excitement jumps on her and nearly brings her to her knees.

He jumped up against me. Stop it. His soft eyes overflowing with affection. And I thought. I love dogs. Sit down. Especially appreciate the ones loving. Welcome. Stop. Still, I feared that this lavish display of it would undermine my dignity. Get down by bringing me to my knees at the very threshold of the home of the famous Frenchmen. Not now.

Shoo. Shoo. No misuse of it. No less. Less.

They understood my plight. For he spoke shortly to the dog poo with a pathetic droop of his tail. Went off to think it out alone all day.

After being humiliated by an animal that chases its own tail, Nellie is more frazzled than ever. Please, just let me make a good impression. But she tries to carry on. Madame Verne leads her guests in through the French door, past the conservatory of long glass windows and potted plants, and welcomes them all into a large, shadowy sitting room. Madame Verne walks over to the fireplace, strikes a match, and lights a pile of dry wood. The room has the aroma of dried lavender. Madame Verne beckons everyone to sit down. Nellie sits closest to the fire as it starts to warm the room. I looked quietly at the scene around me. Nellie admires the oil paintings, the bronze statues, and the intricate, upholstered chairs. The room is lined with heavy velvet curtains that drape over the windows. A white angora cat rubs up against her and then moves to Madam Verne’s lap. This little crew sits in a semi-circle and Jules sits across from Nellie energetically talking to their translator and beckoning him to translate as Mrs. Verne strokes her cat and looks back and forth between Nellie and her husband.

Have you ever been to America?

Oui yes. Once want to offer our field days only during which time I saw Niagara. I have always longed to return, but the state of my health prevents me from taking any long journeys. I try to keep a knowledge of everything that is going on in America and greatly appreciate the hundreds of letters I receive yearly from Americans who read my books.

Then he asks about her travels.

What is your route?

Nellie sketches out all of the places she plans to go from here to New York.

I'm going to take a mail train down to Italy and from Italy, I'm going to cross through the Suez Canal.

She sits there quietly listening to the translation, and his friendly face slowly turns to stone.

Why do you not go to Bombay as my place for nothing?

He sounds offended. I mean, it's it was a fictional book and it's been 20 years.

But Nellie doesn't let anyone push her around.

I am more concerned about saving time than a widowed Indian princess,

which is a plot point in the book. Jules smirks and appreciates her wit.

You may save a young widower before you return.

Jules turns to his wife and speaks in a way that he doesn't want to be translated.

It is really not to be believed that this little fear is going all around the world. Why? She looks like a mear child!

Madam Verne did not let her husband get away with minimizing Nellie's appearance and aptitude.

Yes but she is built for a work of that sort. She's timid, eccentric, and strong. I believe, Jules, she will make your heros look foolish. She will beat them. I am sure of that. I will wager with you if you like.

I will not risk my money because I feel sure that now I have seen the young lady, she has the character to do it.

Nellie sits there awkwardly, knowing that two people are openly talking about her and she doesn't know what's being said. So as the virgins bicker amongst themselves, Nellie checks the time. I look at the watch on my wrist and saw that my time was getting short.

There's only one train I could take from here to Calais, and if I missed it, I might as well return to New York for the loss of time. Would mean one week's delay.

She can't risk this any longer. But there is one reform Nellie wants to see.

Excusez moi.

At the translation of Nellie's request, Madam Verne’s springs to her feet and lights a tall wax candle with a slight limp. Jules leads the way up a spiral staircase. Then they walked down the hallway and Jules puts his hand on a doorknob and slowly pushes it open. When she sees the room.

I was astonished. I had expected. Judging from the rest of the house that Mr. Verne's study would be a room of ample proportions and richly furnished. The room was very small. Even my little den at home was almost as large. It is a very modest. A flat top desk with nothing more than a neat little pile of white paper. And it was part of a manuscript of a novel that he was engaged on for at present. I eagerly accepted the manuscript when he handed it to me, and when I looked at the neat penmanship. So neat. In fact, I had not known it was prose. I should have thought it was the work of a poet.

Nellie's admiration for this man grew by the minute. This simple room is where Mr. Verne sat and created the most colorful stories. He needs a blank space to let all of the magic out of his head. Jules then escorts them out of the room and brings his guests through a hallway. Where a large map of the world hangs and takes up most of the wall. Jules holds up a candle to the map, a streak of light in the darkened hallway, and Nelly notices a series of little blue dots at seemingly random points on the globe.

Before his words were translated to me. I understood that on this map he had with a blue pencil traced out the course of his hero, Phileas Fogg, before he started in his fiction to travel around the world in 80 days with a pencil he marked on the map as we grouped around him. The places where my line of travel differed from that of fog. Nellie looks at all of these unfamiliar countries waiting for her feet to make contact. She's reminded of how massive an undertaking this journey is. Her stomach drops how the world is so big.

How am I going to get through all of this?

And now that Nellie has to leave, she doesn't want her time to end.

Our steps lagged as we descended the winding staircase again. It had come time to say farewell, and I felt as if I were separating from friends down in the room where we had been before. We found wine and a biscuit on the table. And Jules Verne, contrary to his regular rules, intended to take a glass of wine. Though we might have the pleasure of drinking together with the success of my strange undertaking. They clinked their glasses with wine and wished me Godspeed.

Nellie takes a sip of her wine, and then Mr. Verne turns to her and says in English.

If you do it in 79 days, I shall applaud with both hands.

Oh what she stomachs is comment. Oh, and her wine. Nellie's face gets flush.

Oh, he doesn't think I can do it.

Like so many men she had met. But she wished he would be different. She didn't want to hear this from him. As she watches him sip his wine, she now knows he is incredulous. But before she can get upset, he says in English.

Good luck. Nellie Bly. Bon voyage en bon chance.

Madam Verne does not let her husband get away with this.

Madam Verne was not going to be outdone by her gallant husband in showing kindness to me. She told Mr. Sherard that she would like to kiss me goodbye. And when he translated her kind request, he added that it was a great honor in France for a woman to ask to kiss a stranger.

Nellie leans over and down to Madame Verne, and she's kissed on each cheek with affection. There's a sparkle in Madam Vern's eyes. She is so excited that this plucky young woman is trying to tie a bow around a man's world, and she can't help but admire Nellie's bravery. The old couple follows Nellie and her entourage out to the gate and waves Farewell to Nellie. The brisk wind tosses their hair around. Tracey opens the door of the carriage for Nellie, and she steps inside. She looks back out at the Vern's through the window. Whether she wants to admit it or not. She knows she will never see them again. Jules stands behind the carriage, watching Nellie set off around the world as he is confined to his little one. As she rides away, Nellie hopes that she can live the dream that Mr. Verne envisioned. And prove him wrong.

Nellie Bly Gets on the Mail Train Headed to Italy

As she arrives at the train station, Nellie starts to feel the world spin a little too fast for her. She's just gone hours, if not days, without sleep and several miles out of her way for a single meeting.

Having gone without sleep and rest, I have traveled many miles out of my way for the private meeting of Mr. and Madame Verne. And I feel that if I had gone around the world for that pleasure, I should not have considered the price too high.

She turns and looks out the window and uses it as a mirror. She sees that her hair is disheveled and there are bags under her eyes. This adventure is more on her body and mind than she anticipated. She arrives back at the train station and grabs a train going all the way up to the tip of northern France just to hitch train, to go all the way back down again. On this train. She looks around and notices a number of other female passengers. The presence of other women puts me at ease. Nellie's snacks on the coffee and cheese offered to her on the train. 2 hours later and 2 hours early, they arrive in Calais, a beach town on the edge of the English Channel. Nellie gets off the train and explores the area for a bit. There wasn't much to see until a train whistle calls. The mail is being transferred from sea to land. And like Nelly, it is ready to venture south. Nelly says goodbye to Tracy and feels ready to take on this leg of the journey by herself.

Day nine November 23rd.

Every Saturday at 1:30 a.m., the mail trains speeds down France's western coast and cuts through France like a cheese knife. And by the evening of the next day, the train will be on the southern coastal town of Brindisi. But for now, the train passes through the brown and amber wheat fields as the rest of the passengers sleep. Nellie is so tired that the bumps on the train don't bother her. She shares a state room at the end of the car with a pretty English girl. That morning, Nellie wakes up alone in her room like the sun. Her roommate is an early riser, so Nellie gets up, washes her face, and then has nothing to do for the next few hours. She just sits out and stares at the landscape. The windows blur the outside worlds like an impressionist painting. The food is fine. Bread and coffee and porridge. And when you're on the road, you eat whatever is closest to you. As per the custom, it's improper for women to dine in the dining room with men. So all of the female passengers have to take their meals alone in their compartments. So for the women on the train, there's nothing to do but pick at their cuticles and watch the countryside whiz by over the 650 mile journey. At one point, Nellie tries to chat up her roommate, hoping she can make some friends. But her roommate is not a great conversationalist and proselytize about the Bible. Nelly politely excuses herself and goes and sits by herself. By that afternoon, they reach the Alps. The high dark mountains are covered in a white sheen of snow. Rivers of glaciers highlights the sharp edges of the Black Mountains. White rolling hills smooth out the foreground and tiny wooden homes glow with warmth from the inside. The sun begins to set and the sky fades into an icy lavender and then a velvet purple. Stars eventually ornament the sky. By 8 p.m., they arrive at the base of France and enter Italy. At least one other country is done. Nellie goes to bed early. Her wardrobes become her bedspread as she layers all of her clothes on top of her like blankets and falls asleep. Nevertheless, she's elated that when she wakes up, she will be in glorious gold in sun soaked Italy.

Newspapers

A wild race against time.

She's not merely a smart girl. She's a mighty brave one.

Through London, without seeing it,

The world's latest has sent Globetrotters to thinking. Many wagers being made on the result.

Everybody interested and willing to lend a hand and speed her on her way.

Food and sleep hastily caught on flying train. Strong men might well shrink from the fatigues and anxieties cheerfully faced by this young American girl.

Pulitzer and Cockrell love that Nellie has successfully met Jules Verne. It adds way more hype to the story. Tracy Greaves writes about it in the London paper, and his piece is published in French and English newspapers. This meeting brought much more attention to the adventure. But back in the editors room, the international song and dance still needs to generate more attention. The editors reprint items about the trip from other newspapers around the country every chance they could. But it wasn't enough. The cables Nellie and other reporters sent were few and far between. Nellie had only been able to send one message from London, and it wasn't an adventure packed wild ride of a telegram. This stunt, I mean, story wasn't exciting enough to keep papers in readers hands. So Pulitzer and Cockrell tried to figure out how to up the ante and keep people's attention on the race.

Nellie Bly Arrives in Italy

Day ten November 24th.

As big ideas are happening in New York, Nellie longs for inspiration. Traveling through Italy should do the trick. She wakes up early, throws her curtains back. Ready to see the most beautiful landscape in the world. And can't really see anything. A thick fog hangs over the scenery. This is not the verdant, mythic land she'd been promised. So instead of enjoying the view, Nelly just sits there. I can't even look outside. I thought this was going to be a thrill the whole time, huh? I'm tired of thinking my own thoughts. Now the Italians have a saying. Don't say fa nyet de the sweetness of doing nothing. But that phrase does not translate for Nelly. As they veer away from Milan and run through Bologna, the train rides along the edge of the country. Like tracing a finger down the back of a woman's calf. Until it hits the heel. An hour before sunset, they stop at a station. Nellie steps out onto the platform and the fog lifts for an instant. The water is a blazing blue and dotted with bright red sails. They remind her of mammoth butterflies fluttering around in search of honey. A mountain looms in the distance and meets the ocean. Nelly smells the mix of saltwater rosemary and olives, and it washes over her skin and hair. This is the Italy. She's been advertised.

A little while later at the next station, the train stops at another small town for dinner. Nellie gets to quickly explore these old cobblestone streets. She looks at the hot pink bougainvillea crawling up walls and spewing over balconies. She walks into a charming restaurant for a bite as she enters, a little girl runs towards her. She has large black eyes and wears giant hoop earrings. Nellie bends down to say hello and reaches into her pocket to give this little girl a large coin. This little girl's openness, curiosity and excitement reminds Nellie of her younger self. She knows what it's like to have that kind of energy and be without means. But before Nellie can drop the coin into the girl's open palm, a hairy hand clamps down on the girl's shoulder and pulls her back. The girl's father whispers something in her ear, and they go off to the back of the kitchen.

What has happened? What? What went wrong?

As the father and daughter walk away, the train conductor comes up to Nellie. He interprets the situation and tells her that she's accidentally insulted this man.

You see, the Italians are the most prideful people. And they hate the English.

I am American.

This man didn't want her pity money. But Nellie and her stubborn temperament isn't going to let this go. Nellie takes a beat. She wants to show that Americans are generous and nothing like the English. So how do you make up with someone when you've accidentally insulted them abroad? Nellie takes the hand of a nearby waiter and goes up to the man. She fawns over the restaurant and the food and how beautiful the little girl is. The waiter translates, and the hardened man's face softens. And it's here where we learn that regardless of language, culture or background, flattery is universal. The man's puffed up chest shrinks. He turns to his daughter and smiles. Nellie gives her a coin and the man offers Nellie a bottle of wine that she insists on paying for. She grabs the bottle, gives the girl's hair a little stroke, and dashes back to the train. It meant a lot to her to ensure that this man was not insulted so much so that she forgot to eat. Maybe she wants to give this girl a little leg up.

Italian Women’s Rights

Nelly has entered a land where the divide between the Madonnas and the whores is a clear line now. Feminism began to percolate during the Italian Renaissance. Initially, it was still believed that education was wasted on women. But some wealthier fathers do invest in their daughters. These women become painters, poets, writers, philosophers and come up with their own ideas about gender equality. Yet most of the time, the areas that they could expand their intelligence are in convents. Over the next few hundred years. There's a great divide between educated and uneducated women. And by the time Nelly trucks through Italy, many women are still illiterate. Even after Italy unified, women would not be able to vote until 1964.

Day 11 November 25th.

How she skimmed like a swallow through England, France and Italy to Brindizi

For the next few hours, they inch along the coastline. Nelly habitually checks her clock and notices that they're running behind. First an hour, then two, and she can't chill out about it. This is eating up all of her margin for error. She doesn't want time to be fickle. It needs to be her friend. She still has to transfer and wants to send a telegram back to New York. If she misses her boat to Egypt, she's screwed. Her heart pounds so loudly in her ears she can hardly get any shut eye. She needs to be alert and ready to hop off the train whenever it decides to arrive.

Goodness. Can someone get this train a double espresso and hurry up.

It's a cliche to make fun of how Italian trains don't run on time, but here we have historical evidence. So by 3:30 a.m., they finally arrive in the whitewashed city of Brindisi. 2 hours late and one hour before Nellie's ship departs. Sadly, Nellie cannot see much of this old Roman port. It's one of the oldest cities with Roman architecture still standing. Nellie steps off her train and is hit by this boggy air. How is this place? On the same latitude as New York. A porter rounds up all of the female passengers who are continuing their journey to Egypt. He escorts them down to the dock where two massive ships idle in the Mediterranean. One is set to leave for Alexandria, Egypt, but Nelli's ship is going through the Ionian Sea to the Suez Canal. Nellie waits for someone to escort her to her ship. Everyone just putters around. She calls down to someone who might work for the boat and he informs her that, well, someone should be coming to help her. Then he begins a lusty call and goes to find someone else.

This is useless. Does anything work around here? Well, since I have all the time in the world, let me see if I can send a cable while I'm here.

Nellie walks up to the train conductor and asks if he has time to take her to the cable office. She wants to send a telegram to the New York world telling them she's on her way to Egypt, a sentence she never thought she would say. The man nods. He grabs her hand and they hurry off the port. Nellie and the conductor rush through the winding streets of the dimly lit city. She smells time and basil mingle with the salt water in the dark. She can just make out how the whole town is washed in lime to prevent the plague from spreading. Laundry hangs from balconies to dry overnight. Everything is still but the sound of their feet quickly making their way to the cable office. The conductor zigzagged, zigzagged through the old winding streets. He suddenly stopped short at a doorframe and a closed window. The conductor has gotten Nelli to the cable office without getting lost and in good time, which would be great if they were open.

Oh, no, they're closed.

The conductor reaches up and pulls on a bell hanging outside the window. A few moments later, a hand pushes the window open from the inside and an old man's head appears. The proprietor peers at them behind his little speckled glasses, and now he could see the sleepy sand in his eyes. She asks if he can send a telegram to New York. Nellie writes out her message as the cable man searches through the large book to determine where New York even is. On a blank sheet of paper. Nelly carefully writes out her message in the quietness of the night. She feels the spell of Italy come over her.

Goodness, How can I describe all the jostling back and forth of my trip thus far? All of the starting and stopping and lack of sleep. It's just. It's grating on me. How can I say that All in? Just a telegram. I feel split in a million directions. I haven't been stable in days. I've been tied up in knots about getting the mail train and now my boat to Egypt. Oh, right.

She has to be on a boat. She's so entranced by this little adventure she forgot all about having to depart. She signs her name, and then she hears the warning sound of a ship's whistle. Nellie looks at the conductor. The conductor looks at Natalie. Her boat is about to leave with her one bag.

Can you run?

Yes!

The conductor grabs her hand and they bolt down the dark streets, going left and then right and then left. And then right at the speed that would have startled a deer. If she misses this boat, she would have to wait a week for the next one. She would beat herself up for being seconds behind. She dashes off, frantically praying that her boat is still in the harbor.

Please wait. Please wait, wait, wait. Wait for me. Wait for me. Please. Please.

But none of her anxieties reached the eyes of her editors and newspaper readers back in New York. Because the telegram that arrives in the office of the New York world reads

Brindisi, Italy, November 25th. I reached Brindisi this morning on time, and after an uneventful trip across the continent, the railway journey was tedious and tiresome, but I received no end of courtesy from the railway officials who had been appraised of my coming in a few hours. I will be on the bosom of the Mediterranean. I am quite well, though somewhat fatigued. I send kind greetings to all friends in the United States.

Show Notes Episode Three:

Elisabeth Bisland Take on

The Great American Road Trip

Listen : Apple Podcasts and Spotify

Episode Summery

November 14th- 21st: Elizabeth Bisland begrudgingly takes a trip across America. In this episode, we travel the northern route of the Great American road trip from New York to California. Over these 4000 miles, we stop in Chicago, pass through the Midwest, interact with Native American women, and explore San Francisco’s Chinatown. As Elizabeth Bisland passes through America, her mood transforms as well. She starts to take this race seriously as she steps off American soil and heads to the far east.

Credits

This show was narrated by Adrien Behn 

Elizabeth Bisland was played by Adrien Behn 

Newspaper Man #1 and reporter Brock Grizzle was played by Jonathan Tenace 

Newspaper man #2 and reporter Chick Hannaford and Cyclone Bill were played by Sam Dingman 

Newspaper man #3 was played by Terence Dalton 

Father Time was played by Jake Dingman 

John Brisben Walker and Newspaper man #4 was played by Nick Markovitz

Sounds

Freesounds.org 

Soundstripe.com 

Epidemic sounds 

Blue Dot Sessions

Research and Resources

80 Days by Mathew Goodman

In Seven Stages: A Flying Trip Around the World by Elizabeth Bisland

Around the World in 72 Days: The Race Between Pulitzer's Nellie Bly and Cosmopolitan's Elizabeth Bisland by Jason Marks

A Race Around the World by Caroline Starr Rose (Author), Alexandra Bye (Illustrator)

Newspapers.com

Resources 

Arctic Tern

“To the Ends of the Earth” by National Geographic Editors

“Arctic Tern” Cornell Lab of Ornithology Writers, All About Birds

“Arctic Tern” Written by Todd Sain Sr., Our Breathing Planet

“World’s Largest Migration Found” National Geographic Editors

Railroads 

“History of Rail Transportation in the United States” by Wikipedia writers, Wikipedia
”Chronology of America’s Freight Railroads” by AAR Writers

“Forgotten Workers” by National Museum of American History

“Building the Transcontinental Railroad: How 20,000 Chinese Immigrants Made It Happen” by Lesley Kennedy, UPDATED: APRIL 28, 2023 | ORIGINAL: MAY 10, 2019

Women in Restaurants

Women and Restaurants in the Nineteenth-Century United States, Paul Freedman, Journal of Social History, Oxford University Press, 2024

Women Dining, by Claude Fischer, Made in America, September 12, 2014

The Glories of Dining Alone, By Alissa Wilkinson, Vox, January, 2023

Dining Alone, Jan Whitaker, Restaurant-ing Through History, 2015

Chinatown 

“San Francisco Chinatown History” by Karen of Fog City Streets, updated June 28, 2023

“History of San Francisco’s Chinatown” by History.com Editors, History Channel, May 25th, 2017

“The Story of Chinatown” by PBS Editors, PBS

Native American Women Resources

“How Native American Women Inspired the Women’s Rights Movement”, By Sally Roesch Wagner, April 17, 2020

“In 1920, Native Women Sought the Right to Vote. Here’s What’s Next”, by Cathleen D. Cahill and Sarah Deer, August 16, 2020

“How Native Women Inspired the Women’s Suffrage Movement,” By: Stephanie Hernandez, League of Women Voters November 29, 2021

“Native Americans and Women's Suffrage in the United States” by Wikipedia

“What Women’s Suffrage Owes to Indigenous Culture” By Bridget Quinn, YES Magazine, August 19, 2020

Transcript

Arctic Tern 

There are only two animals that have traveled the full scope of the planet. The first is the arctic tern. This tiny bird, no heavier than a chicken cutlet, is in endless pursuit of summer. The arctic tern zigzags its way from the Antarctic to Antarctica, chasing the sun and hitting dozens of countries along the way.

The Arctic tern can travel up to 56, 000 miles during their six month migration season. That's more than the Earth's circumference itself. I'm sure they carbo load on plenty of fruits and spiders ahead of time. All year round, this flighty little fowl loops around the planet in a graceful figure eight.

Tracing the coastlines of North and South America, or Europe and Africa. Taking in the vastness of this elegant blue marble we all call home. The Arctic Tern sees more of the planet than pretty much all other species combined. Except for one, humans, but we cheated a bit. For thousands of years, we have plodded along at our own speed, gradually populating every continent and large island.

Most of us traveled at a foot's pace, some lucked out with horses. And even when we fashioned wood into boats, we never traveled more than a hundred miles a day at most. And it was often facing an uncertain death. We have always looked up at the birds flying over our heads. wondering what can they see that we can't our need to know what else is out there is in our DNA.

And after 200, 000 years of strolling along All of that was about to change. Once we harnessed the power of water and turned it into steam, we began to push and pull our way into the future. In our eyes. The Industrial Revolution made the earth spin a little faster, and in 1889, two women were off to put that speed to the test.

I'm Adrien Behn, and this is Strangers Abroad, a Race Around the World, based on the true story of Elizabeth Bisland.

Both Women’s Backs Are to New York

On November 14th. Both women's backs are to New York as they move further away from the city. I imagine two little blue dots, like the ones on Google Maps, but being pulled in opposite directions around the globe. And the world will unfold itself differently for both women, as Nellie's blue dot sails over the Atlantic, and Liz traverses across America.

Their first day of travel has begun. Let the journey begin.

Elizabeth Bisland Leaves New York City 

Day one. November 14th.

Liz's train pulls out of Grand Central. And what Liz is feeling isn't a tingle of excitement about this adventure. Instead, it feels like lightning is shooting through her veins. She's just trying to stomach what just happened. She looks out the window. The winter sky takes the sun away early. The shortest day of the year is approaching, but where will she be by then?

Liz takes a breath and quiets her thoughts. She tries to sit in the calmness of the train carriage. There's a particular quiet that happens when your train leaves the station. The chaos and the rush is over. The anxiety of missing your ride settles. The bittersweet goodbyes and the see you soons are done.

Your shoulders drop, all the physical and emotional baggage you schlepped on with you. As the train plunges into the woods of Westchester, she glides along the Hudson. The Catskills pass her by. It looks so quiet outside. A calmness stretches over her as she enters the train.

The window morphs into a mirror. She puts her hand on it and looks at the hopelessness in her own eyes. Elizabeth really sees herself, not as some globe trotting writer, but as a woman coerced into doing a man's bidding for his profit at the expense of her safety.

 I have worked too hard to suddenly lose the reins on my life.

“This is so foolish, I just want to be back home.

Because once she stops feeling frustrated, fear takes over.

She is living at a time when almost all women on the planet are second class citizens, and diseases don't have cures. And she's expected to go around the world?

Is it safe out there? What if I get sick?

“What if someone robs me or takes advantage of No, no, no, no, that can't That won't happen. But who will look out for me? How on earth will I get all of these connections? Tears well in her eyes. The feeling of anticipation of what is to come is pressing on Liz's diaphragm, making it harder to breathe. Can I really do this? The world is full of booby traps.”

As she rides the fast Western Express train to Chicago, Liz hopes the train is true to its name, and she should be in Chicago's Union Depot by the next night. From Chicago, she will quickly catch a train bound to Omaha and venture through the middle of the country until she reaches the other edge of America.

Liz is heading west, manifesting a destiny she doesn't really want to embrace. To be fair, her ride is pretty smooth. The train is designed by Louis Tiffany, the man behind those iconic periwinkle boxes. Each of the train cars has a different international theme. There is the English Baroque room, an Italian Renaissance lounge, a Spanish mission room, the Chinese dynasty parlor, and the ancient Egyptian library. It's hard for Liz to clock that she will actually get to go to almost all of these countries. And she does have her own sleeping compartment and a modern women's washroom, and there are female maids to assist solo female travelers. Nevertheless, she's alone, strikingly independent.

Solo female travelers back then are quite uncommon. and always a curiosity. So as she sits, frustrated about her fate, Liz just thinks, All right, just take it one day at a time, one stop at a time. Let's just get to California. As she gets ready for bed, she fights to get her clothes off in this tiny sleeper room.

Her hands hit the ceiling and her Elbows smack against the walls. But once she's finally in her sleepwear, she tucks in for the long night.

Newspapers

“Two women racing for dear life in opposite direction.”

“Rival lady travelers.”

“Woman against woman.”

As Liz comes down from this wild day, the newspaper editors work hard into the night. to publish her departure and anything they can find out about her for tomorrow's morning paper. On the morning of the 15th, newspapers printed that there isn't just one female reporter on this race around the world, but two.

Papers like the Herald, the Tribune, and the New York Times print out a few sentences. About these two intrepid female journalists, if they printed anything at all. Papers that weren't the New York World or Cosmopolitan stuffed information about Liz and Nellie down at the bottom of their pages, near the sporting sections, printed next to headlines like, Death by Bicycles!

And re reading these newspaper clippings now, it's astonishing how no one really cared to get their facts straight. They get both women's ages wrong. 

Miss Bly is 30. She's 25. 

And Miss Bisland is 22. She's 28. 

They misspell Nellie's given name repeatedly. Some places think that Liz is trying to beat Nellie's pre existing record.

And journalists can't stop talking about how beautiful Liz is. Miss Bisland is one of the most beautiful young ladies in all of New York, and will provide an excellent representative of American women in every one of the many countries through which she will travel.

And how Nellie somehow hates men.

A very ordinary, everyday young woman, rather slight in form, leaning to eccentricity in dress, masculine in her tastes and ideas, and a man hater from way back.

One paper speculates that Liz, she'll be accompanied with a number of carrier pigeons, which will be freed at regular intervals from the Pacific and which will bring dispatches. with her.

Which is just not true. Another paper declares that the two women will meet up in China and they will have Christmas dinner together in Hong Kong.

No matter what, if it's news, it's apparently good enough to print. The news spreads faster JBW doesn't really care how accurate any information is about his literary editor. 

As long as the press is hot, what does it matter what anyone publishes? Wrong press is still press.

Pulitzer does not share JBW's enthusiasm. Pulitzer is extremely upset that Walker Bisland to ride on Miss Bly's coattails. Or the hem of her dress, for that matter.

But now that both women are gone, everyone made guesses as to who will win and when. People calculated that Liz is already in the lead, even though Nellie had an eight and a half hour head start. Reporters guess that Elizabeth will come back sometime on the 23rd or 24th of January. And Nellie is more likely to come in around the 26th or 27th.

Some were supportive.

Godspeed, cries everyone, to the two brave girls, who, having chosen a career which, for many years, was occupied almost exclusively by men, are hurrying alone through foreign lands, with a view to a success which will rival that of many men of journalistic fame.

Others are weirdly annoyed.

They both represent newspapers and this extensive traveling is for advertising purposes. If they get around in 75 days, other cranks will doubtlessly spring up in an attempt to do the same act in 65 days. This sort of ambition, if such it may be called, is contagious.

I dunno why he's so mad. And some missed the point entirely.

May the prettiest girl win.

Neither woman will have any idea of what is being said about them. Because for the next seven days, Nellie is gliding along the Atlantic, while Liz hopscotches across America.

Elizabeth Bisland Heads to Chicago 

Day 2, November 15th. 

Liz wakes up and stares at the bright winter light illuminating Lake Erie's southern belly. The fast Western Express train cuts through the nose of New York and heads to Ohio. Liz marvels at the naked trees that are slowly replaced by thick pine as they trace along the edge of Pennsylvania.

But with no one to talk to and nothing to read, Liz can't stop thinking about her future.

Why, who will I talk to for the next two months? Am I just supposed to stare at a window this whole time?

It is looked down on for a woman of her status to travel alone and unladylike. For any woman to strike up a conversation with a man, or accept conversation from one, she's upset that her gender restricts her.

And I'm sure that under different circumstances, Liz would have been excited. about this once in a lifetime adventure. But while sitting in this quiet train carriage, headed towards Chicago, Liz does not have a why. When you travel, you have to have a reason for going. Without a reason for going, you feel aimless.

Nellie has a why. She's trying to go around the world in under 80 days. She has a clear purpose. Liz has no incentive to do this. She seems more like the kind of traveler who wants to explore one place in depth. She wants to sit in Italian coffee shops, sip espresso, and write about the locals going on their day.

She wants to walk slowly along the Great Wall of China and examine every stone. Liz likes to simmer. If she's going to travel and write about it, she does not want to be rushed. So on that train, this dream trip is her living nightmare.

When the train pulls into Union Station, Elizabeth was promised that an emissary from Cosmopolitan is supposed to come and keep her company as she waits for her train to Omaha. So, as she steps off the platform, Weighed down by her bags and her melancholy, she watches all of her fellow passengers embrace their loved ones waiting for them.

Couples kiss each other. Parents hug their adult children. Friends squeeze one another and pinch their cheeks. She is surrounded by love and warm welcomes. And as the crowd thins out, and everyone goes on with their lives, Elizabeth waits, and then suddenly she's left standing alone. The quietness makes her a little anxious.

She waits a little longer for this emissary. 

Ugh, Mr. Walker is probably comfortably sleeping in his home, making money off my exploits and discomfort. The least he can do is send someone reliable to keep me company. Just add salt to the wound, why don't you? 

Then she starts to play that mental game. When someone is late, and we don't want to act on it just yet.

Ugh, alright, I'll just wait ten more minutes and then... Well, okay, I'll just, I'll wait five more minutes, just five. Uh, just, where is he? 

After a while, Liz is fed up. She's been ghosted by a stranger. So she goes out in search of something to eat. I wandered about a vast, gloomy, and rather empty station in the care of a friendly conductor.

A conductor offers to sit with her at the train station diner. So she sits on this high countertop, making small talk with the conductor, as she eats sad ham and tea. Everything tastes sad when you're sad. The conductor is sitting with her because, at the time, it's frowned upon for a woman to sit alone in restaurants.

Women are discouraged from eating in public because they're assumed to be prostitutes. What could a woman possibly be doing by herself? Back then, women are always encouraged to have a male companion when they eat in finer dining areas. There used to be actual signs that said, quote, Lone woman not wanted.

End quote, which is a larger metaphor for women at the time. So in the company of this watchful conductor, Liz swallows her last sip of tea and sits on the stool for a moment. Although she is full, she still feels Empty, in this quiet food court. The conductor having given me a commiserating adieu, I slip away into the night, very homesick, very cross.

Liz cannot see how this journey is going to get any better. She settles up her tab, grabs her bags, and makes her way to the platform. On her way to Omaha.

Elizabeth Bisland Drives through the Midwest 

Day 3. November 16th. 

Liz wakes up refreshed on this slower train plodding through the center of America. Now in a new time zone, Liz is feeling better. 

But with that night's sleep, I slipped away my amazement, and awoke at daybreak in my right mind. When she pulls back her curtain, she is welcomed by a limitless land of pearl.

Watching the rising sun peek out of the darkness. Maybe it is the quietness of the morning. The tranquility of the Midwest that shifts her mood. Suddenly, the world is vibrant again. She looks up at the hundreds of billowing, shiny white clouds above her. As big as elephants, they dangle above her head but still don't make a dent in the expansive prairie skies.

The Great Plains feel boundless. Even the frost on the windows enrapture her as she makes out scenes and faces in the ice. She takes notes as she passes through the fields of cold. But maybe she focuses on the landscape because she can't find anyone to talk to. Other than the reporters. Once Elizabeth's undertaking is published, local reporters catch wind and try to find her as she makes her way across America.

They want an interview with this mysterious and beautiful female writer, attempting such a novel adventure.

Say, are you Elizabeth Bisland? I'm Chick Hannaford from the Omaha Daily News Journal. I would love to talk to you about your flying trip around the world. 

Brock Grizzle of the Chicago Tribune. Miss Bisland, can I get a word?

They hop on at a station and ride for one or two stops. 

How are you to travel for so long without a man? 

How do you feel about Miss Bly? 

Then, once they get the information they need, the reporters hop off and take the reverse train back home. So after hours of this cycle, Liz is tired of saying the same thing over and over and over again.

She doesn't want to be reminded all the time about this ridiculous stunt she's doing. Nothing has happened yet. But assume that from now on until we get to California, she's accompanied by a reporter. Although Liz is surrounded by people, she still feels lonely. 

I would rather talk about the most recent Emma Lazarus book. Do I have to repeat myself again and again to reporters? 

Liz looks around on the quiet train. She sees an old couple nestled together in their seats. She craves that kind of intimacy. Not necessarily romantic, just someone who knows you so well that you don't have to explain yourself to them. So she calls over to them across the aisle and tries to strike up a conversation.

But even after decades of being together, outsiders were very much outside. 

Liz, who has charmed most of the East Coast elite. Could not get through to this couple. They turn away every attempt she makes to talk to them. So instead, Liz takes solace in nature. Nature can't turn her away.

Before she knows it, she's in Omaha. And when Liz gets off the train, she is now over a thousand miles away from everything she knows. Her mood has softened over all of that landscape, and it's here that she decides to embrace her fate. Suddenly, she is interested in actually trying to compete in this race.

Elizabeth Bisland Arrives in Omaha, Nebraska

At the Omaha train station, she goes up to the ticket booth and sweet talks her way onto a smaller, faster train. But she doesn't get on any old train. She hops on the Union Pacific Mail Train. Back then, mail trains go express, and they don't have to deal with the endless loading and offloading of passengers.

All they need is to get the mail from one side of the country to the other as quickly as possible. And the mail train did offer a few extra seats to regular folks. Who are in no way affiliated with the United States Postal Service, but need to get somewhere in a hurry. These regular passengers sacrificed comfort for the sake of time.

And Liz is about to be one of those people. And coincidentally enough, this mail train that Liz hops on is also in a race against time. The United States government approached the Union Pacific Railroad with a sweet little offer. They wanted to try to shave a few hours off the drive from New York to San Francisco.

The government wants to save a full day of delivery, so mail from New York can arrive in the California morning instead of at night. So the government offers the Union Pacific Railroad 75, 000 to get the job done, which is over 2 million by today's standards. The Union Pacific happily agreed. So, by going on this specific train, Liz should hopefully arrive in San Francisco 10 hours earlier.

This is a race within a race. And, by switching to this train... Liz starts to take this silly little stunt seriously.

When Liz gets on the train, she settles in, looks around, and notices she's the only woman on board. There's a certain heat that rises within you when you know that you're the only lady in a room. So, she keeps to herself. and continues to focus on the landscape. The trees and shrubs grew rarer and more rare, and finally vanish altogether.

Now, in the center of her country, she sees that not everyone grows up. Surrounded by Spanish moss or grand mansions, parts of America's landscape are remote and arid and the vegetation is sparse. The train passes cabins and reservations where the Native Americans have been relocated. 

Now, in the Jules Verne's book, Around the World in Eighty Days, he depicts very tropey scenes about Native American lives, like images of Native Americans riding on horseback alongside rushing trains.

Or lively scenes of communities dancing around drum circles with big bonfires and teepees poking out of the landscape. But Liz has a first hand look at their reality. And as she sees it, It's an unhappy land with a rainless sky. She gets a knot in her stomach as she weaves through the lonely plains.

From the comfort of a modern train, she contemplates the rough life of those who live here.

Great, great plains lay all around us, covered certainly with withered, ashen colored plant. The bitter results of an unequal struggle for existence. Settlements were few and far between. Scrawny horses picked up a scant living and an occasional yellow cur that came out and barked at us. As we went by was the only other form of animal life to be seen. From time to time we passed a dwelling, a square cavern of grey unpainted boards. The only decent proof I ever saw of the human inhabitants of these silent, lonely homes was a tiny pair of butternut trousers fluttering on the clothesline, and I greatly feared that they were perhaps his only pair.

Liz scans through the unraveling of the Homestead Act. In 1862, Americans with European descent were given free land across the American West, and the Native Americans and the animals they heard were pushed off the land that they had been cultivating for thousands of years. The plains Native Americans used to take up most of Nebraska, and now were relocated To one small county in the state.

During this time, people of European descent saw America as the land of opportunity where the natives saw this same time period as one of displacement, and I think Liz could really feel the gravity of that situation, that quiet depression that seeps through these grasslands.

There was something insidious and brutal about the doom laid upon this unhappy territory.

She stares out until darkness descends.

Day four. November 17th.

When the next morning arrives, in the distance, she can see the tips of the snow capped Rockies.

The leisurely ride that Liz is enjoying is about to be over. Our speed in this part of the country was terrible. The train is behind schedule with two million on the line. And unbeknownst to Liz, arrangements are being made to pick up the pace. That whole day as they plod towards the Rockies, the temperature drops.

Liz rubs her hands together and hugs herself closer. As the tips of the mountains get larger, but fade into darkness. Somewhere that night, between Colorado or Wyoming, an engineer is telegraphed to hop on board at the next stop and take the wheel through the worst part of the Rockies.

Elizabeth Bisland’s Rocky Horror Picture Show 

Day 5, November 18th.

Around midnight, Liz's train pulls into the station. The car doors open, the slicing Colorado wind seeps in, and a special engineer Stomps up into the entryway. He shakes the layers of snow off of his feet and mustache and gives a dashing look to his passengers. Cyclone Bill has just entered. Cyclone Bill's real name is Mr.

Foley. He's a rowdy, jovial Irishman who's a master mountain engineer. And known for his speed, Liz is a little unsettled that he's named after a violent storm. 

When he enters, he declares, we will get to Ogden, or Hell, on time. 

Now the Irish may have the reputation of not knowing how to say goodbye. But they sure know how to make an entrance.

And unfortunately, Cyclone Bill is very sincere in his Faustian bargain. He turns to a reporter and points dramatically. 

It is 76 miles to Ogden and I can make it in 72 minutes. 

Cyclone Bill gets behind the wheel. And the train calmly leaves the station, pulling out at a normal speed. Then, once the station is out of sight, Cyclone Bill begins jockeying the train as if it's a racehorse.

The machine gains speed, and suddenly, Liz feels the train tilt back like a roller coaster on its way up to the top of the ride. The train corkscrews through gorges and canyons. At times, it leans over a mountain curve with no guardrail. Only for Bill to snap it back into place and keep trucking along.

Liz catches a glimpse of the outside.

From the rear car, the tracks are two lines of fire in the night. The land fled from under us with horrible nightmare weirdness. 

The vibrations of the train make her teeth chatter and her cheeks jiggle. Once they start descending, it feels like they're hitting the vertebrae on a spine, clinking down the backbone of the Rockies.

Liz looks around, and she sees that some of her fellow passengers cannot get out.

Please let me get to California, I just started this adventure and I'm already gonna die. I'm not even supposed to be here. 

As everyone else is trying to survive this living hell. 

Yee haw! 

Cyclone Bill is thriving. Liz notes that he's cheerfully indifferent to the torture he's inflicting upon his passengers.

The officers of the train became alarmed and ordered speed slackened, but Mr. Foley Consulting his watch, regretted with firmness that he could not oblige them. One man writhed in anguish of terror on the floor. 

And just when she feels like her body can't take it anymore, the train slows and slows. As if it's been going at a reasonable pace the whole time.

Liz plucks a few postage stamps out of her hair and looks down to find a reporter in her lap, holding onto her skirt for dear life.

But they arrived in Ogden on time. You do need a maniac in order to get an insane job done. Once the train stops. Liz takes a huge inhale. 

Oh, I cannot believe I'm alive right now. 

She sits in the stillness and promises to never take it for granted again. Then, Cyclone Bill cheerfully dismounts from his cab and acts like it was a normal train ride.

No, hey, hope everyone's okay. He just turns on his heels, exits the train, and Liz watches him walk across the street.

He went straight away into a saloon, with a swinging Venetian door, and was lost into the night.

But Liz is now in Utah, and is closer to her destination than her starting point. She is now the highest up she has ever been in her life.

Elizabeth Bisland Arrives in Ogden, Utah 

Ogden is 40, 000 feet above sea level, walled off with a chain of icy blue mountains that look close enough to touch. She takes the opportunity to stretch her legs. The air here is thin and minty and fresh, crisp like a white wine. She inhales the energizing cold. In Ogden, she transfers onto the Central Pacific Rail Train, also part of the government's race, and travels at a reasonable speed to California.

As she settles into her new train, She notices the colors of the Rockies in great detail. Now traveling slower, her jaw drops as she takes in the incredible sights of these folded mountains. She admires what happens when plate tectonics push against one another. At each stop, they pick up more mail and change engines.

From here, the vast, desolate uplands bring no further signs of human inhabitation. 

At some stops, Native Americans huddle on the train platform. They stand in a group with their hands reaching up, waiting for a coin to drop into their palms. Liz places a coin in one of the women's hands. The crowd parts. The woman turns around and shows Liz her baby. Strapped onto her back and swaddled in rabbit fur.

Liz coos at this tiny, chubby little baby face. Then she thanks the mother and returns to her train.

She doesn't know it at the time, but the women that she's just interacted with will be the inspiration for American women's suffrage. The mothers of the suffrage movement gleaned the ideas of women's rights from their own backyards. Many of the early suffragettes had first hand conversations with Native women about gender dynamics in their tribes.

Native American Women’s Influence on

American Women’s Rights and Suffrage

White women learn that Native women are in control of their own property, are part of their democratic process and had a level of equality in communities that these white women couldn't imagine. Native American philosophies around gender roles are way ahead of the curve and inspire a lot of the suffragettes who were fighting for white women's rights in America.

Now there are a number of Native American tribes with their own language, culture, and traditions, but the chances That the Native American women Elizabeth interacts with have more rights in their communities than Liz has in hers. But she won't feel the impact of these conversations between Native American women and the suffragettes for another 20 years.

Elizabeth Bisland Drives Through Nevada

As Liz pulls away from these women. She settles in for the long ride to Nevada. For miles, nothing but sagebrush and sand poplars blur by. When she arrives in the Silver State, Liz gets out to stretch and inhales the air, fragrant with white clovers. And when it gets dark out, the sky is so clear, not a cloud masks the stars.

She is now 2, 500 miles away from the East Coast, and Liz stands in awe of how vast the sky is here, and looks out into the greater universe.

Elizabeth Bisland Arrives in San Francisco, California

Day 6, November 19th. 

After almost five days of speeding across America, the train finally crosses into California. For days, Liz has stared out at the red, dusty landscape and now enjoys the sight of green, juicy marshes. The air thickens like southern gravy as she hits the edge of America. The lush landscape and warm light invite Liz to the promised land.

On November 19th. Everyone on Liz's train gets off in Oakland and transfers to a ferry. Liz glides along the San Francisco Bay through the fog. A cluster of brightly colored houses on hills pop through. And she's ahead of time. As was the mail train. At 9. 15 on the nose of the ferry boat from Oakland touches the San Fran wharf

We've crossed the continent in four days and twenty hours, thanks to Mr. Foley. And the distance between New York and the Western Metropolis is reduced by a whole day. What a great achievement! 

She's astounded. It took half a week of her life to get from one side of the country to the other. 

There are crowds of reporters waiting to interview everyone. The general manager, engineer, conductor, and even me. 

Liz hopes this is an auspicious foreshadow of her race. Once she gets onto San Francisco land, Liz is exhausted. But fortunately, she has two days to relax. She arrives in San Francisco early on Tuesday the 19th. But her steamship to Japan is set to leave on Thursday the 21st, even after JBW had bribed and begged the steamship owner to move their schedule up by two days.

Liz is fine with this temporary pause. This is the most extensive trip she has ever taken in her adult life. Her body has just gone through so many different temperatures and elevations in a very short amount of time, and she is not used to moving this quickly over so much land. She is sore, exhausted, cramped, and couldn't have a real conversation with many strangers because of her gender.

Even though her body is paying for it, she's still in awe of what she just went through. Now in California, Liz has been to ten more states. 

Golly, I have seen so much in these last is. And... I I did it. And yet, this is just the beginning.

San Francisco is a city built on the promise of gold. A land of fog, huge hills, and sea lions. As Liz walks around the financial center of the American West, she notices it has a slower energy than New York. Even as it sits on a huge tectonic plate, always threatening an earthquake. So Elizabeth makes her way through the narrow streets and the steep hills to the palace hotel.

After this five day adventure, she deserves nothing less. And, at the time, it's the largest hotel in the country, filled with newfangled elevators that pull people up and down with the push of a button. There is some space to investigate this first one of many great cities I must pass through. So she settles into her room and prepares to explore, yet privacy is the last thing she gets.

The news of her arrival traveled fast, and the reporters in San Francisco are curious to talk to this beautiful East Coast writer making her way around the world. As she tells one reporter, 

At all stages of the journey, I shall take the fastest surface that I can possibly get. I am enjoying excellent health, and believe the trip will not provide such a hardship as some might suppose. I say that I think I could complete the journey in 72 days, provided of course no unforeseen accident arises to prevent me from fulfilling the mission. It's a rather novel undertaking, but I feel equal to the occasion. Everything must go with the journey. 

She's singing a different tune here. One of the female reporters Elizabeth talks to is the well known expose female journalist Winifred Black.

Winifred and Liz's conversation is published on the front page of The Examiner the next day. And everyone who purchases a paper that day Once a look at Liz's face, they know where she's staying and when she's leaving. So because of this article, Liz gets an onslaught of random inquiries over the next two days.

A whole army of martyrs so curiously has affected me solely in the two days on the Pacific coast. Sending up their cards to the hotel with urgent messages. And an admission, confessing with placid imprudence that their sole excuse for this intrusion was a desire to look at me.

Although the reporters in San Francisco did publicize her arrival, they also offered her a means of protection from the public.

The editors of the San Francisco Examiner, who have shown me every courtesy from the moment of my arrival, invited me to luncheon at the Cliff House, which stands on the very western edge of the continent, upon one of the great pillars of the Golden Gate. 

All she has to do now is be escorted around town and see the sights.

This is the kind of travel she wants. The buildings here aren't as tall as they are in New York, but Liz is charmed by the lushness of the city, the fresh seaside air and the constant drizzle. While walking around these delightful streets, she sniffs a wet rose popping over someone's garden fence. The tip of her nose gets wet as she inhales the sweet perfume, and the scent brings her back home.

A Place that felt unbelievably far. California is its own large patch on the American quilt. She notices how the sun hits the earth at a different angle here. Liz glows as she explores the Golden State.

Elizabeth Bisland Explores Chinatown in San Francisco 

Day 7, November 20th. 

On her second day in San Francisco, she does everything she's supposed to do. She takes a cable car and sings with the sea lions. And that night, she connects with an off duty detective who offers to take her around for the evening. When the sun goes down, a silence sweeps over the city and dissipates like the fog over the harbor.

Liz and the Detective make their way to the only part of town making noise. Signs hang vertically off of buildings. Red lanterns bob around in the wind. Boxes of chrysanthemums dangle from balconies. Chinatown is still wide awake. Liz is astonished by how lively the town is. It's nearly midnight. But the town is just as busy as it is at noon.

At the time, San Francisco has the largest Asian population in America. Liz and her detective squeeze through the tight streets, lined with jaw sticks, tucked away in pottery bowls of sand. Their flavory scent is there for offerings and protection. The Chinese need this and the brave new world they are trying to make a life in.

The detective brings Liz into the elegant flower house of the Don Quai Yuen Theater. Everyone in the community gathers to watch classic Chinese dramas late into the morning. They enter the theater, and Liz and the detective weave through the crowds of families and try to get as close to the stage as possible.

We go through the left door and sit on the stage as if it was the times of Queen Bess. And this was one of Mr. William Shakespeare's new plays. 

The audience is basically on top of the actors. The theater is filled to the brim like one of Elizabeth's steam trunks. Liz is jazzed. Theater is exactly what she wants to be doing.

Incense perfume the air as the actors take the stage. Liz is so close, she gets to see every stitch and golden needlework in their costumes.

As the play goes on, she doesn't really understand the dialogue, but she sits in awe of the human experience, watching their heavily made faces express emotions we all feel. An hour or so goes by, and Liz loves watching the play, but she has a sensitive nose and the smells of the incense become too overwhelming.

So she and the detective exit the tightly packed theater. As they make their way back to the hotel, Liz turns her head and notices a window on the street that is still glowing and active with people inside. Exchanging cards and chips. They're playing Fantan, an illegal gambling game.

Now I wonder what pushes someone to leave their homeland.

Especially because the Chinese in America face extreme discrimination. Despite the fact that their knowledge and engineering expertise helped put together the American railroad system. Quickly and under budget. It is one of the greatest engineering achievements of the time. But now that the railroads are built, the American government thanks them with the Chinese Exclusion Act.

As Liz exits Chinatown, I wonder, what will mainland China be like? 

Elizabeth Bisland Leaves America and Heads to Asia 

November 21st Miss Bisland will leave San Francisco for Yokohama and is expect to reach New York City in 75 days.

Which will win Miss Bisland or Nellie Bly in a race around the world? 

Now, a few days of stability gave Liz some time to wrap her head around this whole trip. She receives telegrams informing her about the next steps and which tickets to secure.

She irons out her itinerary and double checks the stops. If all goes to plan, she'll be back in her bed. In 72 days and the morning she gets ready to leave America, she thinks. 

I love that moment when the hero in a story says, Adieu to his friends and family tears. We up with sadness and excitement as they're about to go venture off to new times and new adventures. And here I'm, I'm the hero now, 
But this Grand Ado, she hoped for. is not what she got, because everyone in San Francisco wants a piece of her before she leaves. When she arrives at her boat, it truly feels like the whole city is there to see her off.

Many of the pleasant acquaintances I had made in my short visit to San Francisco had come to wish me Godspeed, accompanied by a delegation who had gotten wind of my eccentric performance and came with no other credentials than a desire to gape.

This was not a figure in my original picture, presumably a sort of inexpensive freak show. In all of the hustle and bustle and people jostling around Liz, somehow a stranger is able to hand her a bouquet of flowers. A mysterious man passes her chrysanthemums and roses. Liz scans the note. Signed, Mr. Pranther from New Orleans. Liz looks up quickly and catches a glimpse. 

A hat was lifted from a handsome gray head. And two calm, dark southern eyes gave me a smile of such friendliness and goodwill that it warms my heart as if from my own people. 

People are rooting for her. Now that's a new feeling. Liz appreciates that someone came to see her off who knows how far she's really come from New Orleans.

Now that city feels like centuries away after the week she just had. Liz looks up at the massive steamship. When she leaves America, there is no going back. She turns around, sees the sea lions barking, and inhales the sweet California air. Traveling across America is one thing, but can I really go around the world?

Alone. She takes a breath, turns around, and steps onto the gangplank. She makes her way onto the boat, and Liz feels something that she hasn't felt before. A tingle of excitement.

Liz goes out onto the deck and watches the last wooden link release itself from stable land. At 3 p. m. on November 21st, the oceanic steamship unlatches itself from America and heads to Japan as they sail away Liz watches a flutter of tiny white paper flying under the deck beneath her. Chinese passengers cast prayers overboard to ensure a safe voyage.

Liz looks down with the wind in her hair, the smell of the sea on the tip of her nose. She stares out at the hundreds of people. Prayers being received by the ocean, feeling the swell of the water and her bittersweet goodbyes. She chokes on her excitement and sadness of leaving America. Liz is going to Asia and as far as the world will let her.

Listen : Apple Podcasts and Spotify

Episode Summery: On November 14th, 1889, Nellie Bly left Manhattan to go on a race around the world in under 80 days. In this episode, host Adrien Behn will delve into the background of this extraordinary woman. She will explore Nellie Bly’s upbringing and aspirations, the obstacles she summersaulted over to become a female investigative journalist, her groundbreaking reporting, and what drove her to embark on a journey that defied the norms of her time. By the end of the episode, our bags are pack, and we are headed to London.

Credits

Sounds

Freesounds.org 

Soundstripe.com 

Epidemic sounds 

Blue Dot Sessions

Research and Resources

80 Days by Mathew Goodman

Around the World in 72 Days and Other Writings by Nellie Bly

In Seven Stages: A Flying Trip Around the World by Elizabeth Bisland

Pulitzer: A Life by Denis Brian

Around the World in 72 Days: The Race Between Pulitzer's Nellie Bly and Cosmopolitan's Elizabeth Bisland by Jason Marks

A Race Around the World by Caroline Starr Rose (Author), Alexandra Bye (Illustrator)

Voices

Narrated by Adrien Behn

Nellie Bly was played by Adrien Behn

Judge was played by Fabian Garcia Martinez

Erasmus Wilson was played by Terence Dalton 

Editor #2 was played by Nick Markovitz

George Mason, Editor #1, George Turner, and Captain Albers were played by Sam Dingman

John Cockerel was played by Jonathan Tenace

Father Time was played by Jake Dingman

Transcript

Nellie Bly Out on the Mediterranean  

It's dark out. A slender young woman leans on the railing of a ship, gliding through the Mediterranean. She squints. Her eyes hone in on the faint glow of lights blinking off the remote islands and seaside cities. They twinkle in the distance as if stars have fallen from the sky. Her childhood self would have never guessed that she would someday float in the Mediterranean.

And this isn't even her destination. A cool wind wraps around her body. It pulls at the coat she's been wearing for weeks and will have to wear for a few more. The wind pushes back her crescent moon bangs on her forehead. The moon is all she can see right now. Maybe it surprises her that this golden orb pinned above her is the same one she stares at thousands of miles away when she's home in New York

The moon will be her only constant as she slowly circumnavigates the globe, and she's grateful for the moon and her consistency. Because this woman's journey will be anything but stable. She will muse through markets in Egypt and eat incredible curry in Ceylon. She'll walk through an execution hall in Canton and drive a train in Arizona.

She will buy a monkey. She will find kindness where she least expects it. And will roll her eyes through every marriage proposal. She will always wish she had more time but appreciates that she got to be there at all. As the steamship drifts by small continental towns, this woman thinks about all the lives she's passing by.

Millions of other people whose lives have nothing to do with her own, no matter how many newspapers sell with her name printed on the front. But she rides on the thrill of it all. She feels alive in a way she's never felt before. She is as boundless as the sea that undulates beneath her and is already addicted to the feeling of being in motion, even if the whole adventure frightens her.

Now this is a woman who is used to being a little scared. As an undercover journalist, her work has put her in danger over and over and over again just to get a good story. And it's always been worth it. But her fears about this trip are kept at bay when she refocuses on her mission. This woman's name is Nellie Bly, and she's on a mission to travel the world in under 80 days.

Now my name is Adrien Behn. And the more time I spend reading Nellie's story, I can't help but think of my own adventures. I have also stood on a deck of an overnight boat in the Mediterranean and have had sea salt skate across my tongue. I know how it feels to be thousands of miles from home.

And know that every swell of the ocean is taking me even further. I've woken up in new places and have had no idea what will happen next. But I have been lucky to explore at a time when traveling solo as a woman is a little bit more acceptable. Some will always think I will be taken hostage when I go abroad.

Others asked if I got permission from my boyfriend to go. But for the most part, I have been incredibly blessed to see so much of this earth and fall in love with many incredible people I would have never met if I didn't travel. I've hitchhiked through Europe, motorbike through Asia, driven across the States, and trekked through Latin America.

I've taken 20-hour bus rides and curled up for 18-hour flights. I owe my own reckless adventures to Nellie Bly. And if Nellie did have a night on the boat like the one I'm imagining... It's safe to say that she wasn't thinking about how she is laying the groundwork for bold female travelers like myself, especially at a time when her adventure is unfathomable.

She can't yet comprehend the unique place in history she will one day occupy. She only cared about one thing: Getting her story. And she would be the one to tell it in her voice.

So on that night, she takes one last salty breath, catches the moon's glow one more time, and heads down to her cabin to be rocked into a deep sleep. Who knows where she will be tomorrow? I am Adrienne Bain, and this is a race around the world. So how did this unlikely woman end up so far from home?

Nellie Bly’s Childhood and Backstory 

As a child, Nellie probably didn't even think being a journalist was an option. And she wasn't Nellie Bly yet. She was still going by her given name, Elizabeth Jane Cochrin. Elizabeth Jane was born in a small Appalachia town, Apollo, Pennsylvania. And as a kid, Elizabeth Jane was a natural storyteller. She made up stories between school lessons and told them to other children.

She often upset her teachers because Elizabeth Jane had a certain energy about her. She was headstrong, imaginative, and loud, which was unattractive for a girl back then. One teacher noted that Elizabeth had "more righteous conduct than professional scholarship." But Elizabeth didn't care. If she wasn't telling stories, she read anything she could get her hands on.

Her need for stories was like her need for bread and warmth. And it was a need that her parents tried to dress up and ignore. Mary Jane, Elizabeth's mom, loved dressing up her first daughter in magentas, rosewoods, and fuchsias, which gave Elizabeth the nickname Pink. Maybe her mom thought that her willful daughter would never have the adventurous life she was made for.

So at least Pink can stand out in a sea of brown clothing. From day one, Elizabeth Jane aspired to be more than average. But then tragedy struck. When Elizabeth Jane was six, now the middle child of five siblings, her father, Michael Cochrin, died and somehow forgot to write his wife, Mary Jane, into his will. So Michael Cotran's inheritance was divided between other relatives first, which left Mary Jane and her five children with table scraps by the end.

Pink and her siblings were taken out of school to help pay rent and put food on the table. Mary Jane needed security and fast. Which, for a woman, at that time, could only come in the form of a husband. So Mary Jane quickly remarried a man in Apollo, who quickly drank away any savings that Mary Jane needed to keep raising her five children.

Now, living with her new stepfather, it was harder for Pink to read at home because of his fights with her mother and his non-stop drinking, which eventually turned into abuse. Pink saw firsthand how her mother had a crippling dependency on her stepfather. And it made Pink furious. But Mary Jane wasn't completely submissive.

One day, either the drinking got too bad, or the beatings became too rageful, but after five grueling years of being together, Mary Jane filed for divorce. Getting a divorce wasn't just hard or uncommon, but it was unimaginable, and if the person filing for divorce was a woman, it was even harder.

Wives filing for divorce had to testify in court why they didn't want to be with their husbands in front of a room filled with only men, including the husband she was trying to divorce, which is exactly what Mary Jane had to do. And even then, Mary Jane's words weren't enough. She needed others who had witnessed the abuse to come forward and advocate for her.

Pink was now 14 and considered a woman. She was old enough to bleed and old enough to testify in court on her mother's behalf. Pink sat through her mother's testimony and then her terrible stepfather's testimony and even took the stand herself. As she sat down in that cold chair, Pink began to spin a yarn in front of all those men.

At some point during her oration, Pink had a vision. She mentally zoomed out and saw herself sitting in that courtroom. When she should have been sitting in a classroom, In that room, on that cold chair, Pink saw what her life would be like if she, too, had to depend on men. She recounts her stepfather's abuse.

"My father forgot to leave a wheel behind. That's the only reason she had to marry this terrible drunk..." 

"She deserves someone kind and will take care of her." 

She felt all the men's eyes in the courtroom burn into her, knowing they only saw her as a woman—a breeder, someone less than, as she sat there pleading for their sympathy. 

"Please, please grant my mother a divorce.”

Whatever Pink said, it tipped the scales.

We will grant you this divorce. 

“Oh, thank goodness.”

And the two women held each other as they left the courtroom. At 14 years old, Pink knew everything she needed to know about Victorian men. They died earlier than women. They left them little. They could get drunk and abusive between birth and death.

From that moment forward, Pink promised herself that she would never rely on a man's money to support herself. But Mary Jane's plight wasn't over yet. Divorce at the time was extremely stigmatized. So now, a widow and a divorcee, Mary Jane left for Pittsburgh and took her children with her. It wasn't Paris, but it was better than rural Pennsylvania.

For the next few years, the whole family worked odd jobs to keep their heads above water, but under the thick smog of the manufacturing town. Pink was often a kitchen girl, a nanny, or sometimes a cleaning lady. These low-wage jobs were her only option. Pink had little time or low energy away from this hard, long, and boring fate.

"I don't want to be taking care of other people's children or cleaning up after them. I want to explore. I want to see the world."

And through all of this, she still loved telling and reading stories. They were the only thing that distracted her from her reality.

She made up stories about faraway places as she scrubbed floors, cleaned up after other's children, or tried to go to sleep.

The Girl Problem aka What to Do with Unwed Women?

Six years tick by, and Pink is now 21. No matter how hard the day, Pink always spends a few cents on a local paper and reads it cover to cover with whatever energy she has left over. Then one day in mid-January 1885, Pink read something that made her pause. She cracks open the local paper, the Pittsburgh Dispatch, and reads every line from the headlines to the ad copy.

She turns the pages, and her eyes fall onto an opinion piece about what to do with unwed women. The column was written by Erasmus Wilson, whose pen name was quote, the quiet observer. However, Wilson did not have quiet opinions about unwed women. 

"A woman spares to find him located by a single word home. Women who worked outside of the home wore a monstrosity. There's no greater abnormality than a woman in breaches. Unless it's a man in petticoat," 

Pink's eyes soak up every word. Her anger starts to warm her body on this frigid January day. She sits back in her chair. She feels the hardwood on her sore lower back from picking up other people's children or cleaning their homes all day.

She knows how much her, her mother, and other women had to work. Instead of turning the page, Pink calls bullshit. Pink grabs the closest piece of paper to her. Fueled by injustice and female hormones, Pink starts writing out her own observations. 

"My mother did not ask for my father to die and leave her nothing. My mother didn't ask for her second husband to be a drunk, not to mention. Screw housework. I want to get my hands covered in ink, not soap suds. I want to tell stories. I want to have adventures. Who is this quiet observer to tell me otherwise?"

Steam comes off her pen. Pink writes until her hand cramps, and she keeps going.

When she is done, she signs the letter with her own pseudonym, Lonely Orphan Girl. And I know this sounds like a dramatic ploy to get someone to read her response, but I think she knew that as a female, this letter might not get read at all. So she signs it with a name that they can't ignore. Pink walks to the nearest post office, mails in her letter, and returns to work as usual.

Nellie Bly takes on The Pittsburgh Dispatch 

The next day, on January 17, 1885, George Mason, the editor at the Pittsburgh Dispatch, prints a request, asking the writer, calling themselves Little Orphan Girl, to come to his office. While she flips through the newspaper, Pink eventually stumbles upon the request, and her face matches her nickname. 

"Oh, what is this about?"

Pink bundles up in her best clothing and heads to the Pittsburgh Dispatch.

When she comes in, she asks the secretary,

 "I'm looking for the editor at the Pittsburgh Dispatch. I'm the lonely orphan girl."

Pink keeps her head low as the secretary escorts her to the editor's office. She walks through the packed newspaper room with writers typing away. She passes by spaced-out tables with long easels and typewriters, giving writers enough space to dig into a beat. Journalists shout out half-bitten ideas floating through the air and dissipating like tobacco smoke. Eavesdropped clues fall to the ground like burnt ashes. 

This room alone proves that the strength of the steel-tipped pen can kill more people than a well-sharpened blade. Her heart beats in rhythm to the sounds of journalists working away. She didn't cough from all the cigar smoke and testosterone in the room.

She's riveted, watching and listening as sights and sounds inharmoniously clash together the way instruments tune before a performance. With her auburn curls resting on her shoulders, her femininity must have been striking compared to the frantic masculinity filling the room. 

She arrives at the editor's door, and the secretary knocks. And when it opens, on the other side of the desk is a young man editing away.

Oh, thank goodness. I thought he was going to be some old grouch about to lecture me. 

The editor smiles and welcomes Pink. 

Well, hello! Come in, come in. 

Hhhhi. Hello. 

What is your real name?

 Uh, my name is Elizabeth Jane Cochrin. 

We are quite impressed with your writing. I can't believe such a fiery piece came from such a meek young woman.

So, we aren't going to publish the letter you wrote, but we would like to know if you are interested in writing an official piece. 

Excuse me? 

About the women's sphere. And we will pay you for it. 

Have me do what? Write about the women's what? And get paid for it? How do I go about writing it? Just say yes, just say yes and you'll figure it out later.

Of course. We can work something out. 

A few days later, in her official submission, it was clear that her grammar and punctuation were terrible. But her voice is propulsive and strong. Her retort directly addresses the most judgmental and myopic aspects of the Quiet Observer's original piece.

"Can they, that have full and plenty of this world's goods, realize what it is to be a poor working woman, abiding in one or two bare rooms? Without fire enough to keep warm, while her threadbare clothes refuse to protect her from the wind and cold, and deny herself the necessary food that her little ones may not go hungry. Fearing that the landlords frown and the threat to cast her out and sell what little she has. Begging for employment of any kind that she may earn enough to pay for the bare rooms she calls home. No one to speak kindly to or engage her. Nothing to make her life worth the living." 

Pink's answer to the quiet observer 

is to give unwed women an education and equal job opportunity.

It will be better for individual women and society at large. 

When Pink's piece is published, Mason is impressed. He could tell she was a born writer and officially hired her at the Pittsburgh Dispatch. 

You're hired. 

I hope Pink was a little smug on her first day when she walked by Erasmus Wilson's desk.

Since Wilson published his misogynistic ideas about how women should stay home, he unintentionally puts a woman in the workforce. But before she could become a groundbreaking journalist, she needed a name, something catchy. And as the legend goes, Elizabeth and Mason hem and haw over a catchy nom de plume.

How about Amelia Applegate? Well, I don't see myself as an Amelia. As they sit in Mason's office, hours and names go by. I've got it. We could call you Carol Smithers. Well, that one's not exactly, um, memorable. 

Until an office boy was singing a popular tune titled Nellie Bly. 

Now that's got a ring to it.

That's not too bad. 

So let's pretend she does a Cinderella twist. And voila, Nellie Bly is born. Now as Nellie, she will not pick up any more brooms with her new name. Instead, she'll uncover stories that were trying to be swept under the rug. 

It is an understatement to say that being a female journalist was rare back then.

Only 2% of journalists in America were women at the time. And 99% of those female journalists reported on women's issues. Oh no, sorry, not voting rights, or the suffrage movement, or God forbid, birth control. Most lady journalists are confined to the home sphere. That is where they worked and what they wrote about.

Female writers wrote about homesteading, recipes, and high-society fashion. But Nellie Bly is not interested in any of that. Instead, Nellie decides to step out of the suffocating box of the women's sphere and do journalism, which she has a natural talent for. She is exceptional at making others comfortable enough to talk to her, and she uses her new platform for good.

In her articles for the Pittsburg Dispatch, she advocates for poor women and demands they get more resources. She goes undercover as a female factory worker and writes about local corruption. She pitches herself to go on a hot air balloon ride with Joseph Pulitzer of the New York World Newspaper. Sadly, she never hears a reply.

She works day and night, constantly looking for a better story. She works so hard that she becomes a staple reporter at the Pittsburgh Dispatch and even charms Erasmus into a little friendship.

This is it! I can do this for the rest of my life. 

And she wants to go as far as she can.

Nellie Bly in Mexico City 

Like when she hears that a one-way train can bring her straight down to Mexico City. 

That's a spectacular idea! 

Nellie rushes into Mason's office the next day and pitches her idea. 

I'll travel south of the border and write about my experiences. 

Mason probably peers down his glasses and tells her that she is mad.

No. Have you lost your mind? Traveling to Mexico? It's far too dangerous for a woman. Why, even for the bravest American man. 

Well, think about all that money you could make by sending a woman like myself, down to Mexico.

And soon enough, Nelly finds herself on a ride down to the modern heart of the Aztec Empire with her mom. Nelly stares out the window and sees the thick Appalachian trees begin to thin out. The air gets hotter, and the sun gets brighter. Once she's in Mexico City, the dense industry fog lifts, and Nelly breathes easy.

She is fascinated by jungle foliage, prickly cactuses, stretching palm trees, and bushy Mexican cypresses. There's endless music on the streets, outdoor markets selling a rainbow of fruits and vegetables that she's never heard of. Witches peddle their remedies next to the butcher. Nelly falls in love with Mexico City like it is a person.

She notices all of its textures and subtleties for five months. Nelly brings the readers of the Pittsburgh Dispatch stories about theater, street music, tombs, bullfighting, and festivals. She diffuses the stereotypes around Mexico and writes about how kind and hardworking the locals are. And she talks about how safe it is for an American woman traveling alone.

That is the biggest lesson she learns while living in Mexico is that... 

"The free American girl can accommodate herself to circumstances without the aid of a man." 

She sifts through what she really wants out of life and envisions her full potential. 

"My life can be full of adventures if I just dig deeper into my work. I want to open the world like a mango and let the juice run down my face."

She gets a taste of the world beyond Pittsburgh. 

"How on earth can I get more of this?"

When Nellie returns to the States, she knows something must change. She needs a bigger challenge. So when Nellie comes into the office of the Pittsburgh Dispatch, she tells Erasmus Willson her four goals in life.

One, to work for a New York newspaper. Two, to reform the world. Three, to fall in love. Four, to marry a millionaire. 

She believes she can accomplish anything with her new mantra. 

Energy rightly applied and directed will accomplish anything. 

So, she has to move to New York in order to start striking some of these goals off her list.

So one day in April 1887, she didn't come to work. All that's left behind is a note on Erasmus's desk. 

"I am off for New York. Look out for me. Bly

Adios, muchachos.

Nellie Bly Moves to New York City 

Nellie arrives in the Big Apple focused on her first goal: to become a New York journalist. She brings letters of recommendation, samples of her writings, her life savings, and big ideas. The way many of us arrive in New York, our big dreams usually take up most of the space in our luggage and then our small apartments.

The only luxury Nellie allows herself to bring is a small, thin gold band on her thumb finger, and she has a nervous habit of twisting it. She runs a room on 96th Street but is still miles from where she needs to be. The newspaper district is on Park Row, next to City Hall and Wall Street.

Sure, moving to New York would be a challenge, but if she could get a job in Pittsburgh as a woman, then she could get a job in New York. Arguably a more progressive city. And a female investigative journalist is rare. She'll have a job in no time. 

So Nellie goes down to Park Row every day and takes it on like a knight battling a dragon. She waltzes into every newspaper office and tries to get an interview with every editor she can find.

She walks in with a straight back and hands editors her letter of recommendation and copies of her pieces, only to be turned away again and again and again for months. Every editor scoffs at her and tells her to move along. 

Female journalists could not with any accuracy describe the feelings of the profession. Because they were perfectly suited for society, fashion, and general gossip. Sure, I mean, women could write. Wouldn't people? But not well. Oh. That seems to be the right thing to say to their husbands. Isn't that right? Well, we aren't opposed to hiring women. We have two on staff. We will send you a note if we need any assistance. 

Spring turns into summer, and still no bites. But New York has never given anyone anything easily. 

But when summer fades into fall, the reality of how lofty Nelly's dreams are...starts to sink in. She is living alone, far from her family, hustling every day, and not making much traction. She lives off of money she made back in Pittsburgh, and her life savings, which she carries around with her, everywhere she goes, starts to get thin.

She carries it around because it's the safest place to keep it. At this time, women were not allowed to open bank accounts without a man's assistance, and they wouldn't be able to do it alone for another 80 years. Being here is going to be much harder than she anticipated. But journalism is her North Star, and she can't imagine doing anything else with her life.

Until she gets robbed.

Nellie Bly Gets Robbed and Gets a Job at the New York World

On a warm September day in 1887, five months into living in New York, Nellie steps off the elevated train by her apartment. She slips her hand into her pocket and notices all her money is gone. Not just her train fare but all of her life savings.

"Where did it go? What happened? How could I be so mindless?"

But Nellie isn't one to wallow. She churns her frustration into fuel and books it down to the newspaper district. 

"I'm not leaving Park Row until I get a job."

When she arrives at Park Row, She knows exactly which paper she will strong-arm into giving her a job. Gone are the days when she pussyfoots around waiting for letters.

She blinks and finds herself sitting in front of John Cockerell's door at the New York World, waiting to give him her pitch. The Nellie, sitting in front of Cockrell's door, is not the same Nellie that had timidly entered the Pittsburgh Dispatch. She wants to prove that she can accomplish all the goals on her list and is ready to take her biggest leap yet. As she sits in the New York World office, Nellie wants nothing more than to be in here with all the boys, even though the glass ceiling is still miles above her head. 

When I envision Nellie sitting outside this door, I see every woman back then who never followed her dreams. As Nellie waits for Cockrill to open his door, she refines her pitch, muttering to herself over and over again, looking like a madwoman. But now is the time to be bold and direct, cause she doesn't have many other options.

Nellie chooses the New York world for two reasons. First, when she spoke to Cockrill months earlier he told her...

Well, we aren't opposed to hiring women. We have two on staff. We will send you a note if we need any assistance. 

Second: Joseph Pulitzer owns the New York World and is a shrewd and neurotic businessman. However, he wants pieces published that advocate for the poor and to voice the voiceless.

So maybe Nellie thought that out of all of the editors, Cockerell is the most receptive to her ideas and her plight. She smooths her dress out for the thousandth time. And eventually, Cockrell gets curious and lets this patient young woman into his office. She steps in, this is her moment, and then her feelings override everything she has prepared.

She begins to spew her guilt. Guts. 

"Uh, uh, hello. I'm Elizabeth Jane Cochrin, pen name Nellie Bly. I have reported for the Pittsburgh Dispatch. We, uh, I've been here before, uh, so I'm here because today I had all of my life savings stolen from me, a hundred dollars, and I'm very desperate for cash, but More than that, I need a job because I am good at what I do. I've gone undercover in factories, I took a train down to Mexico once and lived with the locals, I exposed corrupt government officials, and smoked this one plant that really took the edge off. When I was 14, I had to testify for my mother's divorce against my drunken stepfather. You see, my... My father died when I was six and my mom had to remarry. Oh, I actually, I once tried to work for Pulitzer when he was doing that whole hot air balloon ride in, in Missouri. Anyways, I have a series of pitches for you that I think you should consider. First, I could take a boat across the Atlantic. And could see the conditions of how immigrants coming to America are treated.

I hear that they're dirty and overcrowded and perfect for spreading typhoid, which is exactly what the tenement buildings are like. See, my family is Irish and they moved to Western Pennsylvania at the turn of the century. So I think I can kind of do a bit of an accent. "

As Cockrell listens, Nellie cannot read his face.

"And the reason I am here today is because, honestly, all of my money got stolen this morning and I, I, I really need a job."

 Once she's done, she's gone on such a rant, she blacked out a little bit and can't really remember what she said. Cockrell sits back, tilts his head, and looks at this plucky young woman.

So Cockrell has the reputation of being a great editor. Because he was ruthless and had an eye for talent. And he must have seen that in Nelly. So he said, 

No. 

As she stands above his desk, he looks her in the eye and levels with her. 

Look, if I'm going to hire you, I'm not going to send you across the Atlantic immediately. That's not how we do things here. I need you to do a local piece. I'm sorry about your robbery, so here's 25 to hold you over, and we can return to this Atlantic Ocean idea another day. Because it is intriguing. We'll keep you on retainer. 

Goodness. Good, good, good, good, good. But that's it? Just an idea. On retainer.

Cockerel takes another pause. 

How about instead of going overseas, you get into an insane asylum?

Which Nellie does without hesitation. 

A year after Nellie broke herself in and out of a madhouse, Nellie's life is exactly what she wanted it to be. She works for the New York World newspaper full time, and her writings have reformed the city. Her writings have encouraged the government to send more funding to the poor and vulnerable in the city. She's gone undercover and exposed corrupt institutions, businessmen, and politicians.

 She receives marriage proposals, death threats, and remedies for her chronic headaches. She becomes so popular other women pretend to be her. What Nellie has accomplished is unbelievable, and I mean that in its original sense. People did not believe women could do what she is doing. And she doesn't even have a high school education. But she does have three things: Intuition, talent, and hustle. Now Nellie's mantra is truer than ever. Energy rightly applied and directed can accomplish.

And Nellie makes enough money to get a nicer place closer to her work. So she moves to West 36th Street between 9th and 10th Ave. And even invites her mom to come live with her. Nellie gives her mom what so many men failed to do. Real security.

Nellie Bly’s Idea to Go Around the World in Under 80 Days 

When Nellie isn't spending days undercover, she has a bit of a ritual. She spends Sundays dreaming up pitches. So one fall day in 1888, Nellie couldn't think of anything. She's at a point where every pitch has to outdo itself. Like an addict, slowly increasing the strength of their drug. She looks down at her notepad, just filled with scratched-out ideas.

As a cleaning lady and, and see what the Rockefellers are all up to. Maybe, maybe there's something there. Um, I could, I could ride this new bicycle with two wheels that are the same size. Uh, gosh, I, I don't know. Maybe I could try to find... Um, the best Italian cheese? 

Nellie loves journalism, but this is exhausting.

Goodness, I have nothing. 

At the ripe old age of 24, Nellie is burning out like an old gas canister. Morning turns into afternoon, which blends into the evening. By bedtime, Nellie has yet to have a single pitch to bring to Cockrell the following day. The muse was absent. When Nellie crawls into bed, she starts to panic about the impending doom coming for her at daybreak, which just keeps her up longer.

Once she admits she can't fall asleep, Nellie goes up and looks out her window. 

I wish I was up there with the moon, away from this pressure and stress. I'm sure it's so quiet up there. I am so tired. What I wouldn't give for a vacation. Or at least a day off. I don't want to face Cockerel tomorrow. I wish I could take a vacation on the other side of the planet. Wait. 

She sits up, her back straightens. 

Wait, that's it. That's, that's, that's a great idea. Tomorrow, I'll give one pitch to go around the world. Mmm. That's still too vague, that's still too vague. What's that one book about? Something about 80, something about 80, around the world in 80, around the world in 80 days! I'll see if it can be done! 

Somehow, in her quasi-lucid state, Nellie comes up with her wildest idea yet. 

Ugh, now I can't sleep. 

But the thought of having something to bring to the office the next day. Finally brings her some peace and rest.

The next morning, she heads off to the steamship company's office. She takes calendars, maps, and timetables from every corner of the globe and looks back and forth and back and forth. Her fingers trace over the oceans, countries, and continents. Places that were so far away back then, people could only get there in a dream or a painting.

Brindisi, Aden, Singapore, Hong Kong, San Francisco. When Nellie pieces it all together, she sees that her plan can actually work. She can go around the world in 80 days, and maybe even less. In a flurry, she grabs all of her papers and rushes to the New York World Office. When she gets to Cockrell's door, he asks her if she has any ideas.

Just one. 

Cockrell fiddles with his pens, and Nellie notices the dust particles floating in a sunbeam. 

Um, uh, I want to go around the world in 80 days or less. I think I can beat Jules Verne's fictional record. Thanks for watching! May I try it? 

Nelly notices a softness in his eyes. He knows that Nellie is a funny girl. Cockerel leans back in his chair. 

Someone else had that idea already and it didn't really go anywhere. I'm not gonna lie, it's probably safer to send a man. 

He didn't have the heart to put her down because he knew it was a good idea. 

How about you go speak with the business manager?

That's the office equivalent of Go ask your mother. The newspaper's business manager, George Turner, was not as coy as Cockerell when Nellie broches the topic.

 It's impossible for you to do it. In the first place, you're a woman and would need a protector. And even if it were possible for you to travel alone, you would need to carry so much baggage that it would detain you in making rapid changes. Besides, you speak nothing but English, so there is no use talking about it. No one but a man can do this. 

Nellie's skin is as thick as a rhinoceros's hide by then, but her blood starts to boil because who is this Who are you to tell me that I can't do this? You're just some pencil pusher who sits behind a desk and moves coins around. I have done real reporting that is dangerous for either sex. Not to mention, my writing has helped sell more papers than Pulitzer could have ever imagined. 

But she really says, Very well, start the man, and I'll start the same day for some other newspaper and beat him. 

Maybe Turner knew he had gone too far.

And all he says is, 

Ugh, I believe you would. 

He levels. 

Look, if we decide to do this piece, we will send you, but not now. 

That's not reassuring. 

Nellie leaves the office in a huff, and the idea starts to collect dust, but not much.

Collective Consciousness 

Months on the calendar flip by. By now, it was 1889. Benjamin Harrison is president, straws are invented, and Van Gogh is just about to chop his ear off. Nellie returns to her regular beat, but her around-the-world idea seems to have tapped into some collective consciousness. Because for the next year, Cockerell keeps getting the same pitch.

And then, Pulitzer catches wind that another newspaper might send a man around the world. During this time, there was a dip in his sales, so Pulitzer was getting a little nervous. And he looks for a long standing piece that could keep his paper in the hands of his readers. And what would sell more papers than a man going around the world?

All of these forces are enough for Pulitzer to pull the trigger on a starting pistol. 

Nov 12th 1889: Nellie Bly has 56 Hours to Prepare for her Race Around the World 

On the late afternoon of Monday, November 12, 1889, Nellie is at her home and gets an urgent note from Cockerell to come to his office immediately. She is taken aback and rushes into the office, twisting her ring.

Did I write something that upset someone? Is the paper being sued? What could this be about? 

She opens Cockerell's door only to find him calm, taking notes at his desk. 

He doesn't seem upset. 

So she sits down and waits for him to tell her what's going on. His calmness made her uneasy. Then he cocks his head up.

Can you start around the world the day after tomorrow? 

I can start this minute! 

For the next hour, they hem and haw over the details, and Nellie and Cockerell decide that Nellie will go on the Augusta Victoria steamship on November 14, leaving New York Harbor at 9. 30 a. m. She spins on her heels and leaves.

From this moment until November 14 at 9. 30 in the morning, every second is precious because she only has 55 hours until departure. Nellie knows how to ride the thrill of being pressed for time. Nellie brings her can-do attitude to the biggest obstacle: get a travel gown ready by the night of the 13th.

This could not just be any travel gown. It needed to withstand every kind of weather, temperature, and climate. It would be her only gown for the next who knows how long. On the morning of the 13th, she enters the shop of a fashionable dressmaker. She walks up to him, pins in his mouth, deciding between two clothes.

I want a travel gown by this evening. His body doesn't move, but his eyes look up at her. Very well. After thumbing through a number of fabrics, he chooses plaid camel hair as the most durable and suitable material. While Nellie is having an enjoyable fitting, the world office is frantic. The first thing they do is send an editor to Washington to get Nellie an emergency passport.

The other editors have to plan an 80-day world tour in under 48 hours, as they hem and haw between timetables, maps, and calendars. The seams in this plan are pulled tight Like the stitches on Nellie's new dress. These editors put their heads together and sketch out the fastest itinerary. Ideally, Nellie will never touch the continent of Asia.

Instead, she will hopscotch along all of the islands. This is the plan. November 14, she will leave New York by November 21, she will be in London. By the 23rd, she will be in Paris On the 25th, she will be in Brindisi, Italy. On November 27, she will be cruising in the Suez Canal, and by December 10 she will be in salon.

She'll be in Singapore on December 18. Christmas, she'll spend in Hong Kong. She will ring in the New Year in Yokohama, Japan, and then be back in San Francisco by January 22. The last leg of her journey is to take a train across the United States. She is due back in New York by January 27. And by this route, the trip isn't 80 days.

Nellie can do it in 75, and this is the plan that The World publishes. In the print-up of this adventure, The New York World advertises it as a way to test modern technology and transportation. Nelly will receive no special treatment, no special trains or express ships traveling as a first class passenger around the world.

The world's newspaper really wants to see if someone can circumnavigate the globe in under 80 days by normal means, although I'm sure the wad of British banknotes in her pocket will help her be more comfortable. Nellie's goal is to investigate the hardships of the modern traveler and will report back with suggestions on how to improve travel from the passenger's perspective.

This is all to deviate away from the idea that this is just some big publicity stunt, which it totally is.

Nellie Bly Gets Ready to Go Around the World in Under 80 Days 

By the nightfall of the 13th, the dress is made. The plan is set. The passport is on its way, as is the Augusta Victoria steamship. And sadly, Nellie can not take her mom on this journey.

But she is excited that she gets to be alone. She doesn't want anyone to slow her down. She holds those thoughts at bay the night before she leaves. She spends that whole night trying to pack her belongings into one grip sack. 

She only wants to bring what she can carry, just in case she has to sprint from one connection to the other. And when her second dress doesn't fit into her grip sack, Nelly faces a dilemma. Bring another bag, or travel for three months in one dress. 

I'll show that business manager. I don't need a million trunks.

Her spite pushes her to ditch the dress. There's no better way to become a minimalist than when you have to carry your home with you. Once Nellie is tired of fussing with everything, she tucks herself into bed for her 9. 30 boat the next morning, leaving Jersey City.

Nellie Bly Leaves New York City on November 14th, 1889 at 9:40am to Race Around the World 

When her alarm goes off, Nellie peels herself out of bed, which suddenly feels so comfortable. Knowing that she's not going to be in it for a while. Her mom, Mary Jane, didn't get much sleep either. Mary Jane makes breakfast. It's the last meal she'll make for her daughter for some time.

Nellie tries to stomach it so early in the morning. She can barely swallow because she is pregnant on nerves and excitement, exhaustion, and anticipation. With a tinge of sadness, she feels as many feelings as there are fish in the ocean that she is about to sail over. The last moment at home comes as she hugs her mother tightly.

There was a hasty kiss and a blind rush downstairs, trying to overcome the hard lump in my throat that threatened to make me regret the journey that lay before me. 

Nellie can't bring herself to say goodbye to her mom. Instead, 

only think of me as having a vacation and the most enjoyable time in my life.

Suddenly, she doesn't want to go but knows she has to. Nellie forces herself out of her apartment and hits the streets of New York. The morning light is buttery and melts over the city. It looks so beautiful in a way she's never appreciated before. Her leather bag is strapped to her back. over the only dress and coat she will wear for the foreseeable future.

Nellie gets on the elevated train down to the pier, and the quick ride feels like it takes a lifetime. When she gets off at Christopher Street, she steps onto the ferry to Hoboken. The faint smell of salt water hits her nose. It mixes in with the cold November air. She blinks, and suddenly, the boat is softly bumping into land.

She offboards with all the other passengers who are going work on a regular Thursday. For Nellie, her job today is to go around the world. She goes to the dock where the great Augusta Victoria is idly sitting at 475 feet long in the bay. The length of five blue whales lined tip to tail with three tall cylinder pipes on top.

The ship is a movable city. 

The morning was bright and beautiful and everything seemed pleasant while the boat was still. When they warned me to go to shore, I began to realize what was meant for me. 

Nellie looks out into the harbor and spots a number of cargo ships bringing imports from all over the planet. Places that seem closer than ever. She slowly twists her ring. It's the only luxury she's allowed herself to bring. Hopefully, it will keep the fates in her favor. Where on one hand she has luck, on the other is time. She has a leather band wrapped around her wrist with a self-winding watch looped through it.

She will use it to be on local time. She has another 24-hour gold-plated watch stuffed into the bowels of her bag that set to New York time. So She can always check in and see what time it is at home. The few friends and colleagues that came to see her off stand around her on that gray Jersey morning, and Nellie is about to see the world in full color.

A stoic man walks up to her from the New York Athletic Club. He's the timekeeper. He is there to mark the exact second when Nellie's journey begins. 

Then the captain of the ship approaches her and introduces himself. 

Tell me about this trip around the world you're going on. 

Nellie, in all of her excitement, word vomits, 

I shall take no sleep until we reach London.

The captain smirks. Well then, we shall prepare you some tea. We'll be leaving shortly. 

He nods his head and heads back to the ship. He knows the pre-trip jitters all too well. At this point, Nellie's heart is jumping into her throat. She can't have a real conversation because her nerves have taken, and it dawns on her the insanity of what she is about to do.

She pushes down the tears and tries not to show her true fear. 

Why am I leaving? Why? Why am I leaving? I'm so at home here. I don't know anything about where I'm about to go. I don't speak another language. Wait, wait, wait. I don't want to leave. I love everyone here. Why am I leaving? 

The reporters and her friends give her a pat on the back and a final hug, then she walks up the gangplank. She feels the weight of the task at hand and tries to soothe herself. 

Only 25, 000 miles. It's only 25, 000 miles. miles. 

When she gets onto the ship, she goes out to the deck to see New York from a distance. And Nellie is alone. The ship slowly pulls out of the harbor and away from everything Nellie has ever known.

She feels dizzy, a little lost. Her heart feels like it's about to burst. Seventy five days. That's a lifetime. As she thinks about her trip, it feels like it's a long distance with no end. 

As the ship pulls out of the harbor, both Nellie and the man from the New York Athletic Club synchronize their watches.

On Thursday, November 14, 1889, at 9 a. m., Forty minutes and thirty seconds, I started on my tour around the world. I am off. Shall I ever return? 

Nellie starts to itemize everything that could go wrong or kill her. With all the anxiety, and getting up too early, and not getting enough sleep, and saying goodbye to everyone she loves, and now alone, Nellie feels her breakfast on the move as well.

She runs over to the boat's side and releases her anxiety and breakfast into the ocean. She looks up as New York starts to get smaller. What Nellie is about to do is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, for a woman especially. And little did she know that she would not be the only woman to leave New York that day to race around the world.

Listen to Episode Two here:

Apple Podcasts and Spotify

Nellie Bly isn’t the only woman to leave New York on November 14th to race around the world. On the same day, the editor of the Cosmopolitan magazine, John Brisben Walker, recognized the potential for a sensational story. He dispatched ( aka bribed, badgered, and threatened) his literary writer Elizabeth Bisland to jump into the race as well. But, instead of following the same path, Elizabeth took a westward route. She packs her items and jumps onto a train headed to San Francisco. While many know about the historical race from Nellie’s perspective, Elizabeth Bislands story is often left in the shadows and will provide an alternative perspective to going around the world. This episode sheds light on Elizabeth Bislands upbringing, her ambitions and talents, and how she got roped into this wild goose chase of a race.

Credits

Narrated by Adrien Behn

Elizabeth Bisland was played by Adrien Behn

Lord Chester was played by Jonathan Tenace 

Mr. Howard was played by Sam Dingman 

Father Time was played by Jake Dingamn 

John Brisben Walker was played by Nick Markavitz

Resources

80 Days by Mathew Goodman

In Seven Stages: A Flying Trip Around the World by Elizabeth Bisland

Around the World in 72 Days: The Race Between Pulitzer's Nellie Bly and Cosmopolitan's Elizabeth Bisland by Jason Marks

A Race Around the World: The True Story of Nellie Bly and Elizabeth Bisland by Caroline Starr Rose (Author), Alexandra Bye (Illustrator)

Sounds

Freesounds.org 

Soundstripe.com 

Epidemic sounds 

Blue Dot Sessions

Transcription

Elizabeth Bisland Introduction 

A woman wakes up with a line for a poem in her head. She's in that foggy state just before waking up, when you know you're awake, but you can't admit it yet. She catches the line, like grabbing a speck of dust before it flutters away. Maybe it's the end tale of a dream, making an escape for reality before being sucked back into the depths of her unconscious.

Elizabeth turns in bed. The line puffs into smoke. She lies down for a little longer, knowing she must get up soon. But enjoys lying down before the busy day begins. Her maid knocks on the door at 8am on the nose. Elizabeth sits up and gives a sleepy smile.

Her maid brings in a breakfast tray and a pile of morning papers. Along with notes and letters stacked largest to smallest, like a small pyramid. Elizabeth munches on some toast and sips on some tea. She thumbs her way through the papers, many of which she has worked for. She reads some of the day's headlines intently, others she skims over.

What does quicken her pulse is reading all the acceptance invitations for tomorrow's tea party. She has planned it with her sister Molly for November 15th at 5 p. m. Elizabeth is known for her salons, and at least a dozen of New York's finest artists are coming to her apartment the next day for a quiet, glamorous evening to kick off the weekend.

And among the acceptance letters is another invitation to a dinner, a bill, and a notice from her tailor that she might find some time today to have a final fitting for a new gown. Going to her tailor's is the biggest adventure she wants to have for that day. She looks out her window. She relishes her perfect morning, one she's worked so hard for.

Then that peace is abruptly disrupted by a message at her apartment door. When she opens the door, she sees a messenger on the other side. He hands her a note. She opens it and reads that her boss wants to see her immediately. By now, it's 10. 30 in the morning, way too early for her boss to call her in. He knows she likes her mornings. In a rush, she quickly makes herself presentable, grabs a fistful of bobby pins, and pins her hair up. Elizabeth puts on her coat and shoes and heads out of her apartment. She inhales the scent of sugar wafting from the candy store she lives above, which is quickly blown away by the wind and smoke coming from the nearby el train rushing overhead.

Elizabeth is a little worried. Her boss is a tough hang. Known as the most difficult editor in New York to work for. But so far, they've had an amicable relationship. She works full hours at Cosmopolitan magazine, which is hard to come by as a female writer in New York. As she walks through Midtown, her thoughts pass her by as quickly as the pedestrians on the street.

The more anxious her thoughts become, the more she picks up the pace. Did someone not like a critique I wrote? Did I offend someone? What is this all about? She cuts through her local park, Madison Square Park, and by 11 a. m. she reaches her office located on the third floor of an office building.

You look divine this morning. Hello. You smell sweet and honeysuckle, Miss. Hi, Howard. 

Once she arrives, she is briskly ushered into her editor's office. Standing in his office, her editor doesn't seem upset. 

Hello, Elizabeth. What a glorious day. How are you? 

He actually seems to be in good spirits. And then he cuts to the chase.

Before Elizabeth could even answer how she's doing, her editor asks her, 

How quickly do you think you could go around the world? 

Elizabeth's face contorts. She's confused. 

What did he just say? 

Elizabeth Bisland is learning in real time that she is the other woman who will also race around the world in under 80 days.

I'm Adrien Behn and this is Strangers Abroad: A Race Around the World. 

Elizabeth Bisland’s Backstory 

Nothing about Elizabeth Bisland's childhood would predict that she would someday be a world traveler. She was born in 1861 on the precipice of the Civil War in Louisiana. As a young girl, her nickname was Bessie, and she could be found sitting under magnolia blossoms, writing poetry. 

She is often found sitting under one of those grand magnolia trees and stews in the thick Louisiana air as she mulls over which words flow best together. Then she scribbles them into her notebook. 

This summer's day is like a blossom, a sunset, a teardrop. The loose leafed lily pad lounging in the... Ugh, that's too much alliteration. Huh, what really rhymes with orange? 

The wind picks up and shakes the tree.

A magnolia petal or two falls around her. She thumbs through her Lord Byron book, searching for inspiration. Having a quiet space to write for a few cherished moments is so nice. Then, she hears her mom call for her. She is startled. She doesn't have much time. She collects all her pencils, notes, and books and scurries into her home as she tries to hide what she holds.

She hugs her books tightly to her chest, how she wishes her parents would embrace her. She goes through the back door and weaves through the house, trying to avoid anyone. She hops over the corners in her house that she knows creak. She tiptoes as quickly and as quietly as she can on the stairs. Sucking in her stomach, not to breathe too loudly.

Fortunately, there are plenty of other kids to distract her mom if Bessie gets caught. Bessie opens the door to the upstairs room, and in one of the walls is a hidden cupboard where people have stashed away their riches and precious items throughout the years. She pushes back the trunk in front of the wall.

Bessie furtively slides her treasures into the safe haven, the only things in the world that feel like hers. Then she spins on her heels to figure out what her mother wants.  

Elizabeth Bisland’s Childhood

Elizabeth and her family lived at the bottom of Louisiana. Where rivers break the earth apart and splinter into the Gulf of Mexico, Liz's life was constrained. Her parents, Tom and Margaret, were conservative evangelicals. They married when Margaret was just 18 and when Tom was wealthy, and their family wealth was earned off of slave labor. In their days before the Civil War, Margaret and Tom had a lavish lifestyle, and Margaret had time to write poetry. But then the war hit.

During the Civil War, Margaret took newborn Elizabeth and her older siblings up north. They stayed with Margaret's family in Brooklyn and left their massive home behind. And after the Civil War, they lost everything. Four-year-old Elizabeth and her family returned when the war was over. The house was in ruin and had been used as a fort in one of the local battles.

All of the furniture was stacked in front of the windows, broken and scratched, and paintings were torn and hung askew. All the furniture in Elizabeth's home was as wobbly as the South getting back on its feet. Their poverty strained the growing family because every year, it seemed like Margaret gave birth to a new child.

So Bessie must have felt like she didn't get much attention with each new sibling. Also that poor uterus. Her parents don't have enough money to send their children to school, So Margaret homeschools them but mostly complains about not having enough money. With more mouths to feed, money had to stretch farther. And Margaret becomes increasingly unhappy in her marriage.

So much so one day, during a fight with Tom, she threw the grandfather clock down at him. When her mother had time or needed more money, Margaret would sell her poetry to a local paper. Bessie saw her creative mother as dependent on her husband, who wasn't providing much. Bessie's childhood and teenage years were cramped, poor, and ruled under the heavy weight of the Bible. Bessie had to read one chapter from the Testament every morning and was not allowed to read secular books on Sundays. Sundays were dedicated to memorizing a section of the Bible.

As repressive as her parents were, they were intellectuals and had a thorough library of secular readings. Bessie's moments of peace are when she gets to read. She thumbs through Shakespeare, Lord Byron, and Keats, classic gateway poets. She falls head over heels in love with poetry. Metaphor, alliteration, and imagery were her only friends.

Her books were her escape from her reality, which sparked her passion. She loved poetry so much, she started writing some of it on her own. But she was nervous. She thought her poems might upset her family. Her work was far from religious, so she stored them in that secret cupboard in her house.

Whether she recognized it or not, Bessie wanted out of these provincial ways. She wanted to be far from this home and conservative parents. She longed to have intellectual conversations and live a luxurious life where she had the finest items, richest meals, and never wanted to rely on a husband for money. Her ambition couldn't keep her poems a secret.

By the time she turned 20... She also began submitting her writing to the same local paper her mother submitted. And unlike Nellie, Bessie knew she wanted to be published. So she submitted under a pseudonym, B. L. R. Dane. She took pains to ensure no one knew where the submissions were coming from.

She went the extra mile and walked to post offices farther away from her home, so the postmark would keep her home address private. Every day they got the paper, she scanned every page until she saw her writing in print. She traced her words with her fingers on the paper and read them back to herself. One of her published pieces tells the story of a bird who was living behind golden bars, who longed to feel its feet on the sand of other countries and fly over oceans.

The poem is titled “Caged”

"alas she saith, how sweet to the world outside."

One day, Bessie mom Margret was asked by her editor if she knew who this talented B. L. R. Dane was. She had no idea. Still, Margaret casually mentioned this mysterious poet around the dinner table one night. Bessie paused. She choked on her food and felt ice in her veins. 

Should I say anything? Well, people like the poem, so... 

She swallows her mush. And meekly speaks up from the other side of the table. 

It's me, um, I am, I'm B. L. R. Dane.  

Her parents gasped. They had no idea Bessie was so talented, and they didn't understand how she had hidden her writings so well. 

Her mom reads between the lines. Margaret quietly sighs, hoping that her daughter can escape their poverty. The fact that Liz and her mom both wrote poetry is where she wanted their similarities to end. Elizabeth wants financial independence, and that will only happen by her own determination. Liz doesn't linger at home much longer. Liz's wants to leave the countryside and see what New Orleans has to offer. 

Elizabeth Bisland Heads to New Orleans 

In the winter of 1882, Elizabeth shook off her childhood nickname and set out for a new future. She promised her family she would send money back home. 

Where Elizabeth had once been deprived of indulgences and raised by the heavy Bible, she is now in the heart of hedonism, progressivism, and modernism. Liz arrives in New Orleans, and the quietness of her countryside is quickly shattered by the blowing of trumpets, horns, and drums that are played nightly in the streets and nearby bars. Southern bells promenaded the streets in ornate dresses. Carriages shuttled back and forth through the streets. Art overflows like a hot pot of gumbo. 

Liz found a room in a boarding house in the French Quarter, where ostensibly, she could write without anyone disrupting her. There were more people on her block than she had neighbors growing up. 

The city intimidated her. But in an exciting way. Every day before she went outside, she stood in front of her door and mustered the courage to go out.

You can do it. You can do it. You can do it. You can do it. You can do it. You can do it. 

And each day, she opened the door. She stepped out into the wider world and took on its beautiful chaos. Her provincial ways didn't bog her down for long. Elizabeth swiftly becomes the talk of the town. She began freelancing for the Times-Democrat newspaper, writing poetry and on high society news.

She doesn't have the same aversion to writing about the women's sphere like Nellie does. She knew it was her way in. And Liz's energy was more classically feminine with the times. Liz writes about theater, dances, new novels, fashion, and socialites. Her work brought her to wealthier corners of the city. She lit up every time she entered a massive Victorian home shaded by magnolia trees and interviews the matrons.

Oh, wow, Miss Calhoun. I've never seen a dress so well-stitched before. Now, Miss Beauregard, what is this little cocktail of yours? I must have the recipe. Now, Madam Perkins, what do you think of the newest theater piece? 

And people loved her writing. This country mouse charmed her way into every one of the wealthiest homes in New Orleans and became a regular in their social circles.

Unbeknownst to herself, Liz was a natural socialite, and before she knew it, she was swept up in the literary and high society scene. Every night of the week is booked with theater, salons, and literary circles filled with established artists. 

This is it. This is what I've been waiting my whole life for. I feel like I'm going to explode. 

She drew people in with her grace, poise, and casual intelligence. Like flies to southern honey, she attracts New Orleans's finest intellectuals and artists, and they stick to her. It's also fair to note that apparently, Liz is a total babe. I only mention this because every account raves about her beauty, but that is not why I'm raving about her.

Liz's life was fading from shades of gray into technicolor. Every day was different and a thrill; it was the first time she was surrounded by money. So after years of poverty, she didn't mind hanging out with those who could indulge in the finer side of life. Here, in these circles of old money, Liz realized she would only ever be new money. She never wanted to marry a man for his wealth; she knew how that turned out for her mother. So, her fortunes can only happen from her and her own writing.

With the whiffs of the suffrage movement in the air, Liz becomes the new kind of American woman bold, beautiful, and ambitious. After a year of living in New Orleans, Liz has experienced more riches, art, and conversations than her 21-years combined.

She reached the top tier of New Orleans society. But something was still missing. The New Orleans social scene may be a smaller hill to climb than she anticipated. So Liz started looking for a bigger challenge. Liz has soaring ambitions. The caged bird has yet to fly as far as she wants. Liz wants to go where the big players are. So yet again, Liz tests the strength of her wingspan and heads north.

Elizabeth Bisland Heads to New York  

Liz lands in New York in the 1880s with $50 and a suitcase. She arrives in Midtown and takes a moment to see how tall the city is and how many more people are moving around it. The buildings were larger than the ancient Charleston trees around her home. But finally, she is at the epicenter of cosmopolitan life.

All of it spelled out money and success to her. This southern belle arrives in the city designed to make or break you. And in the beginning, it tested Liz's strength. Liz is immediately confronted with that straightforward New York attitude when she searches for work. And like Nellie, she hopscotches from editor to editor, looking for a job.

The editor of The Sun, Lord Chester, said, My dear little girl, She's 25. Pack your trunk and go home. This is no place for you. But Bisland is undeterred. She does not listen to this cheesecracker of an editor. Liz continues to pitch herself to other papers. And one by one, she starts piecemealing her salary together.

She freelances for a new magazine named Harper's Bazaar. Then begins writing for Illustrated American. At Puck Magazine, she begins writing book reviews. Since she enjoys writing about the women's sphere, she picks up work faster than Nellie. Suddenly, Elizabeth is working 10-hour days, but at least she's getting paid to do what she loves.

The Protestant work ethic quickly overtakes years of her parent's evangelical teachings. By 1887, her older sister Molly joins her in New York. Together, they can afford to move to one of the wealthier neighborhoods. They land in Murray Hill on 31st Street and 4th Ave. Fifth Ave at the time was called Mansion Avenue and has a reputation as the strip of the elegant and the rich.

Liz lives one block down from the most expensive mansion on the continent. On her street, we're fur stores, hat shops, and jewelry makers, and their apartment is directly above a candy shop. Liz's life can't get any sweeter. All of the delicacies denied to her as a child are now within walking distance. Liz is refined and invests in her home. She creates a glamorous sanctuary for her and her sister.

After years of hard work, Elizabeth is finally in a space of her own. Paid for it with her determination and decorated it to her liking. 

In no time at all, she starts recreating her own salons. She invites popular poets, actors, writers, and painters to her home to have stimulating conversations. 

Liz establishes herself as someone who can talk about any subject in depth for hours. She's aware that the mind lasts longer than looks. 

One of her lifelong male friends says that when he hangs out with her, 

I feel like I'm playing with a dangerous leopard, and I thank her for not biting me. 

Liz still finds that men are more interested in her beauty than her brains. She doesn't want to be gawked at as if she's some beautiful creature in a zoo.

I am not going to dumb myself down for some man. 

Honestly, I think she likes intimidating men with her brains and beauty, so she waves men off and digs deeper into her work. New York is the creative challenge she is happy to take on, and she takes the city by storm like a southern hurricane. 

After years of freelancing, sometimes working for four papers at once, Liz is offered a more consistent job by John Brisbane Walker at the newly acquired Cosmopolitan magazine. She isn't full-time, but she is the literary editor, and her column is called In the Library, where Liz reviews the newest books and poetry.

This monthly editing pace is much more her speed, even if her editor is a bit eccentric. But finally, she's in a constant rhythm of slow mornings, writing all afternoon, and evenings filled with intellectual conversations. For the first time, Liz has no desire to go anywhere. All of her needs and wants are always within reach.

Only the seasons change. So on that momentous morning of November 14th, the most important task she has for that day is getting her gown and preparing for her upcoming tea party. But fate has bigger plans for her.

John Brisben Walker Has a Great Idea to Send Elizabeth Bisland Around the World

That's the same morning the news of Nellie's race is published; everyone and anyone interested in travel and technology collectively raises an eyebrow. This included the editors from other newspapers. They could smell a stunt through all the New York City pollution and garbage. And the editor of Cosmopolitan magazine, John Brisbane Walker, is almost impressed.

Yes, that Cosmo. Before it had headlines like 90-calorie cocktails, should you text your ex? Cosmo was a monthly literary magazine. John Brisbane Walker, from now on we'll just shorten it to J. B. W., made and lost fortunes as routinely as the sun moves around the earth, but he was never deterred for too long.

Then in 1889, he bought the Cosmopolitan magazine from a Christian group with one of his fortunes. It was branded as a quote-unquote, a first class family magazine. JBW wants to rebrand it. He wants content to focus on self-improvement, literature, poetry, first person stories, and social uplift. However, Cosmo is a monthly magazine, so it never gets the daily or even weekly exposure needed to get more subscribers.

So J. B. W. needed a big pull, and he's not one to shy away from a stunt. So, on the morning of November 14th, 1889, J. B. W. took the ferry from his home in Jersey City to Courtland Street. The way he does every day. He crosses the Hudson and shakes open the New York World. His fate is about to cross over Nellie Bly's, the way the waves of their respective boats lapped over each other in the Hudson.

He skims the paper and reads about the New York world's little stunt piece. 

Send a woman around the world, not a bad idea. 

But he sees a crucial flaw. JBW realized that the timing was all off. 

If someone heads east during the winter in the Northern Hemisphere, they will hit the trade winds in the South China Sea be slowed down. This woman will lose days going against the Tempest. Then she'll bump up against January. Snow in the Pacific Northwest. Forget about it. All of the trains will be delayed. Instead, the New York World should have sent her west. A woman headed west would be pushed along by the trade winds and deal with a mild European winter.

She's going in the wrong direction. 

His idea percolates until he reaches the Cosmopolitan Magazine office near Madison Square Park. At 9 a. m., he bursts into the office and belts: 

How fast can a woman go around the world? 

All his editor's heads snap up from their writing and stare at him.

What buffoons these people are at the New York world. Let's send our own woman right now. However, she will go west. She can ride the trade winds in the Indian Ocean and deal with a milder European winter instead of the brutal American one. Someone, get on it. 

Where Pulitzer's editors are just starting to relax from the insanity of planning Nelly's trip.

All of J. B. W. 's editors begin to scramble. That meant whoever the Cosmopolitan would send around the world would have to leave this very second. It was then that J. B. W. sent for his literary writer, Elizabeth Bisland, who was calmly sipping her tea and anticipating an average day ahead of her.

John Brisben Walker Pushes Elizabeth Bisland to Go Around the World on November 14th, 1889

Which is why she is horrified an hour later, standing in JBW's office, watching him roll the dice with her life. 

Oh, hello, Elizabeth. How are you? A quick question. How long do you think it's going to take you to get ready to leave for San Francisco? How about 6 p. m. today? Does that feel good for you? 

He seems like the kind of guy who will coyly bury the lead.

When he finishes his sentence, Liz thinks her boss is joking. Ha ha ha, what? Ha ha ha ha. She lightly touches her chest, throws her head back, and rolls her eyes. Now, J. B. W. is not one for jokes, especially so early in the morning. 

What? Is he talking? He has really lost it. 

Elizabeth waits for the punchline. As her laughter fades, silence sweeps through the room. And she realizes he isn't kidding. Her throat suddenly feels dry. When she sees he's serious, his friendly appearance turns to stone.

And he asks her, more pressingly, 

You see, there's a race afoot. It started an hour and a half ago. A woman from New York set off today headed to England. She's trying to make it around the world in under 80 days. 

Nothing, he said, excites Liz in the slightest. 

He has really lost it. I can't even focus on what he's saying. I need him to stop talking. I don't want this public attention. I don't want to travel and travel alone, nonetheless. I have nothing packed. I don't even know what to pack. Just Around the world. Is he out of his mind? Absolutely not. I, ahem, I have a tea party tomorrow. 

Liz pushes back. In the softest, most southern, not to-upset-you darling kind of a way.

So, hun, I have a tea party tomorrow. I can't cancel on all my guests. Maybe you could find some other woman? 

She bats her eyes. She doesn't like using her looks to get what she wants, but she would do anything to escape this situation. But not many women worked for Cosmo then, and JBW can't risk wasting any more time, which is why he keeps pushing on Liz.

I can't waste any more time. It has to be you and you have to be ready now. 30 minutes go by. Each time she pushes back, he pushes back harder. Until, she is standing on a metaphorical ledge. Elizabeth learns the strategy that J. B. W. used to build all of his fortunes: He did not take no for an answer and did whatever he could to get what he wanted.

You are fired if you don't buck up and get ready.

Suddenly, the other side of the planet didn't sound like such a bad idea as long as she was away from this madman. By the end of the fight, they were both panting through gritted teeth. Elizabeth finally agrees. 

I will try. 

They both wipe sweat from their brows. JBW hands Elizabeth a fistful of money. 

Be at Grand Central Station for the 6 p.m train to San Francisco. 

She has six hours.

Elizabeth Bisland Gets Ready to Go Around the World 

As Nelly releases her anxieties into the ocean, Elizabeth Bisland also wishes someone could hold her hair back. Liz is dizzy the moment she leaves the office. She walks back into the busy Manhattan streets, which feel more chaotic. Pedestrians and carriages are moving every which way like all of her thoughts.

She hails a cab and gets in. Bouncing on the crowded streets, she thinks about how her day had started so perfectly. So delightful. She thought of how cozy her body was against her bed, and how deliciously slow her mornings were. 

Why, I might not even be in my bed for, what, two, six months, a year? Who knows? This is so dangerous. What if I never return? 

She does not know how long it will take to go around the world or how to prepare for it. So the next few hours were busy ones. 

I cannot believe I have agreed to do this. I don't want to be part of any of this. I just want to sit in my study and read my books. I am a poet, not some hard hitting journalist. I want my writing to be published, not my identity. 

Although Elizabeth is extremely well read, the specifics of the world feel hazy. 

I have anyone to talk to who will help me if I don't speak the language. God, what is the point of this? This is so absurd. 

She gets out of the cab at her tailors and she convinces her tailor. I do believe that I can have a perfectly finished utility dress made for every kind of temperate and constant D wear for the next three months by 5:00 PM the latest. Tonight 

she took a feather from JB W's hat. Then she spins on her heels and hurries home. She bursts into her apartment, ignoring the sweet smells of the candy shop.

Panting, she tells her sister the news. That they have to reschedule the tea party, and she's going to be gone for the next two months. Elizabeth and her sister Molly hand-write apology letters to each of their guests, but her friends will find out about the adventure once they open the tomorrow's paper.

Once the letters were sent, Elizabeth's head swivels toward her luggage. All of her well organized, fine clothing, jewelry, and shoes are now strewn across her bedroom as she shuffles through all of them to see what she should bring. 

I mean, I'll have to go days without washing my clothes. What am I going to wear in chilly Japan or scorching Singapore? I don't want to look like a potato sack for the next few months. 

As she sifts through her hard-earned wardrobe.

First, she focuses on her essentials, pushing them all into her steamer trunk, a leather Gladstone valise, and a shawl strap that will be slung over her shoulder.

Divided between these three bags are her light bodices, silk dresses, sewing kit, slippers, a gown, 

because, obviously, 

and also gets her new black utility dress, to help her blend into the background. Liz's token look is her new market coat and sailor cap. But most importantly, she brings plenty of bobby pins. She packs a rich deposit of pins in every one of her bags.

So, at a moment's notice, She can plunge her hand into the geological layers of her bag and come up with a fist full of pins. 

They are the most essential item for women to feel put together, 

which honestly, I resonate very deeply with. 

Whatever will I read for the next two months? How many books can I squeeze into my trunk? Six? Seven? No less than ten. I cannot believe that I'm being put up to this. I do not want to be some conduit for male entertainment to sell a bunch of silly little papers. Foolish men, taking no consideration of my feelings, my well being, my desires into account.

Elizabeth Bisland Leaves New York City on November 14th, 1889 and Heads to San Francisco 

Finally, the clock ticks 5. 30. She does not live far from Grand Central but still needs to hurry before leaving. Liz does a mental checklist of all of her items. My sewing kit, my creams, and plenty of bobby pins. More involved than solving a mathematical proof in her head.

Alright, I think I have everything. With all of her things, she stops at her front door. She closes her eyes. The fear she felt leaving her New Orleans apartment comes rushing back. I can do it. I can do it. I can do it. I can do it. She builds up her courage. She takes a breath. Liz is off. She waves down a cab in her new dress, weighed down by all her luggage.

Her apartment is only ten blocks and one avenue over, but it must have felt like an eternity. Traffic ebbs and flows. She rubs her hand over the leather handle of her Gladstone Valais. And feels it get damp from the sweat on her palms as they head toward the train station. Her cab drops her off in front of the wide arches of Grand Central.

The light around Grand Central is open and inviting. Liz takes one last glimpse of the sun before it sets, and she heads into the windowless train tunnels.

On the day Liz leaves for California, Grand Central is only 50 years old. Sadly, the Central Terminal, with all the timetables and people purchasing tickets, did not have the celestial ceiling hovering high above her head. It was just a glass and iron dome. Connecting 12 tracks. People criss cross, criss cross, through the main hall. A swarm of businessmen, in tall black hats and overcoats. Try to catch the right train before it leaves the station for Long Island, Upstate, and beyond. Liz finds her platform, and on that platform are a handful of her friends and colleagues waiting for her.

She must have been overwhelmed that her friends saw her in such a frazzled state. She hates this feeling. 

I feel like there's a swarm of bees in my head. I can't focus on anything. 

Regardless, she is grateful that she gets to see some familiar faces before she leaves because everything after this point will be very unfamiliar. And at least someone was excited for her. 

Safer travels, mon chéri. Here are some roses. Oh, hon, they're so beautiful, but a little impractical. She gives all of them tight hugs. She doesn't want to think about how she doesn't know when she will see everyone again.

What if I never return? 

At least her friends are excited for her. Then they all perk up when the final train whistle blows. Liz gives one last hug, squeezes a hand, and steps off the platform and onto the train.

She awkwardly walks through the aisles with all of her luggage on her and finds her seat. She organizes her items and sits on the plush cushion, her head tips back as the train lurches forward. Slowly inching away from New York, she looks at herself in the black mirror of the window for the first time that day.

She really sees herself. Her hair is tied up under her new sailor cap, her body is sore, and she sees in her eyes a little panic. Where Nellie left with bittersweet feelings in her stomach, whereas Liz leaves with confusion and fear. Nellie takes a boat towards the east and Liz sits on her train headed west.

Although they are about to take on the same task and hit the same destinations, their journeys will be the complete inverse of each other.

The official clock starts now, and the universe couldn't have chosen a more different woman to race Nellie Bly around the world. On November 14th, at 6pm. Elizabeth's countdown begins. Nellie has a 8.5 hour head start. Liz blinks. And suddenly, she is off for 80 days. 

The most beautiful woman in journalism is leaving the station. Where Liz has waited so long to explore the world, this was not how she envisioned it. Her wingspan is being put to the test. And she doesn't know if she's strong enough to fly so far. As the train moves farther away from her home, Liz internally searches for strength the way she will for bobby pins.By 6 p. m. Eastern Standard Time, both women's backs are to New York, headed off into the wild unknown.