When You See It

along in a rickety train. It was a hot night, and the train windows were pushed down, so the dust that rose from the tracks created to haze both inside and outside the string of cabins. Things had quieted down, suppers had been unwrapped and eaten. The last of the young boys who were hawking boiled eggs, fried lentils, and thick sweet hot tea had passed through the train one

final time. Most of the other passengers were asleep, either slumped over a loved one next to them, or with their heads thrown back over a seat, their bodies steadily rocking back and forth with the movement of the train. The younger two brothers were likewise asleep, curled up against their mother, who had pulled a cotton shawl partially over her face to filter out the dust, or maybe it was so no one could see her mouth slack and

open as she snored. It wasn't unusual to see other passengers with their faces covered by different means, with shawls, blankets, even the occasional broka. In the cramped quarters. It was one way to have some limited privacy and make sleeping in public a little bit more comfortable. Now, there is one woman in the cabin who was covered entirely in black from head to toe, sitting on the berth across the aisle from the two older brothers who were still

wide awake. They were still pretty young, barely in the double digits and only a year apart, which meant they spent most of their waking moments trying to find ways to mess with each other. On that particular night, as the boredom got to them, they traded kicks and pinches and elbows, testing each other. Their goal was to keep from yelping and waking up their mom, who would likely

take a slipper to them if they did. They giggled under their breath, still jabbing one another, and then they noticed the woman in black turned her head towards them. The bottom half of her face was covered in the black veil of a borka, but the top half was exposed. Her large black eyes were wide open, lined with coal, staring at them intently. The boys froze under her unblinking gaze. Whether a few moments passed or entire minutes, it's hard to say, but to the brothers it felt like in

an eternity. And then still silent, the woman turned her head the other way to look out the window, and as she did so, she stretched her legs in front of her. Her black gown rose to reveal her feet, which, to the shock and horror of these brothers, were bent completely backwards. I'm Rabbia Chadar, and I'll be your guide

into the ancient world of the hidden gin. Welcome. I heard that story, or some variation of it, countless times from those brothers who swore that they witnessed a woman whose feet were on backwards in the dead of the night on a train to their village. When they told others, elder relatives what they had seen, they were casually informed that that woman was definitely a gin. It was a sure sign of a gin trying to pass as human.

They could transform to a certain extent, but their eat, for some reason, still ended up backwards, or maybe they wanted to keep it that way so they could frighten the unsuspecting with a flash of their feet. Essentially, and oftentimes, the gin manifest themselves to us as they please, shifting into human or animal shapes to enter our dimension, but never revealing what they really look like to us, which is understandable because apparently their original forms are so fierce

and terrifying we wouldn't be able to handle it. One legend tells of a gin that revealed itself to none other than Alexander the Great. It was huge, as large as a building, with seven heads, and every head had two faces, four blazing eyes, a monstrous mouth full of flaming teeth, and the massive nose of a bull. Strangely, though, it had the feet of a duck, a massive duck, but duck feet. Nonetheless, it's not likely you'll see a gin in its original form, though that would just give

it away, and they usually don't want that. But there are some manifestations that seem to be most common when it comes to gin encounters, which will help us recognize a gin when we see one. But remember, we only see a gin when it wants us to. And it's also said that they only appear to those who believe in them. Otherwise our senses are closed to their realm. They can hide from us, and they do, but it's

said that they cannot hide from certain animals. Now, there are many cultures that believe animals can see or sense the unseen storms on the horizon, for example, or even natural disasters. It's well known and well documented that days before the horrific two thousand and four tsunami that brutalized South Asian coastlines, local animals were acting out of sorts

from India to Sri Lanka to Indonesia. There were dozens of reports well before the massive waves hit of dogs that refuse to go outside, elephants that led to higher ground, and zoo animals coward in their shelters. There is nothing

necessarily supernatural about any of it. After all, many animals have vastly different ranges of sound and sight that human beings do, and according to indigenous cultures, they're just simply more connected to the natural phenomena around them, which explains why animals may be also more likely to feel or sense gin or other creatures we can't see and probably don't want to see. They say to beware when a

donkey brace, because it's surely seeing a devil. But you don't have to own a donkey to witness the sixth sense animals have for the unseen. Every dog and cat owner has seen at some point their furry companion stare with alarm at a point in a room where apparently there's nothing to see, or they'll growl, flatten their ears,

crouch at some invisible threat. And then there are the three am crazy's, when cats suddenly began tearing around the halls, slamming into walls, bursting with a manic energy that doesn't

exist at any other part of the day. No one is exactly sure what causes this middle of the night feline mania, and there are some theories about it, but none of them account for why this happens at a time otherwise known as the witching hour, that time of night when black magic is strongest, when the cover of darkness is deepest, and when those of us with a touch of insomnia often spring awake in bed only to see a negon glow from a bedside clock telling us

it's three am. Whether or not animals see gin, we do know this. Sometimes the animals around us are in fact jin themselves. While shape shifting gin have the ability to transform into pretty much any kind of animal, dogs, cats, scorpions, camels, lions, and even insects like beetles. It seems the most common creature you may come across that could be a hidden gin is a snake. And it's no coincidence that Adam and Eve were tricked by a serpent in the garden.

The serpent was the devil himself disguised, and the devil in some traditions, is in fact a gin. There's a story from seventeenth century Egypt in which a famous holy man named Alhredi had died, but people believed that he had returned, reincarnated as a large snake. The snake had made the holy man's shrine on the Nile River its home, staying curled up at all times in the crevice of

some rocks near the grave. In his lifetime, Alhredi was known to be a healer, a pious man with miraculous powers to cure the sick, but after his death, those powers seemed to have become vested in the great serpent that guarded his shrine, and as long as that snake was there, the miracles continued. The locals had different theories about Alhredi and a snake. It could have been that he was never a human being to begin with, but instead that he was a benevolent gin who transformed himself

into a human so he could help heal people. Then, after living the human life and dying a human death, he turned into the giant snake to continue to bless those that came to the shrine for help. Interestingly, Coptic Christians in the region had a different take on Alhredi. They were well aware of his miracles, but they didn't think he was a kindly jin. Instead, they believed that he was the incarnation of the demon king Ashmadi, the same Ashmani that King Solomon enslaved to build his temple

along with legions of other gin. Regardless, it seems everyone on all sides did agree to one thing. That snake was definitely Alhredi. The animal manifestations aren't always perfect. Sometimes the shape shifting will result in beastly hybrids, serpents with dozens of arms and legs, or creatures with canine teeth, heads like birds, and horse like hose. Then there are those jin who don't quite come together at all, the nestnas.

The nestnas appear as half formed human beings, with half a head, one arm, one leg, half a torso, and half a face which may be positioned anywhere on its body. Some say these malformed creatures only inhabit the wilderness of Yemen, and others say they can be found on desolate islands in the South China Sea. They can't speak, having only half the vocal cords necessary, but they can make strange, sad guttural sounds, rather fitting for their disposition. That's because

the nestnas are weak gin. They're terrified of human beings instead of the other way around. They flee when people get too close, hopping away with a quickness on one leg, escaping as fast as possible lest they get captured. And they better get away because in some parts they're hunted by locals, not just to kill them, but to devour them, because apparently the flesh of the nestnas is reportedly delicious and sweet. If nestnas are the weaklings in the gin realm.

Towards the other end of the spectrum, there is a dangerous shape shifting gin that you want to avoid at all costs. This gin has the ability to constantly and terrifyingly keep transforming in order to confuse and days its victims.

And that gin is called the ghoul. That's right, Google, The word we've all used at some point to describe someone unpleasant is actually the Arabic word for a very specific kind of gin, sometimes taking the shape of several animals at once, reported at times to have the head of a cat and the tongue of a dog, other times appearing in their monstrous forms hunched and hairless, razor sharp teeth and snakelike tongues, model skin, and cavernous dead eyes.

Ghouls in habit the most desolate places, keeping as far as possible from human civilization. They lurk in deserts and cemeteries, where they hide among ruins, biding their time for people passing by, people who are likely to disappear forever if they make that unfortunate encounter. What a hapless soul does stumble across their path. Goals will entrance them all the weight of their debts by repeatedly transforming from one thing to another shape, shifting with speed from one hideous creature

to another, confounding their victims. This way, the goal drives their victim mad before making their kill to satisfy their hunger for human flesh. Gules are said to be among some of the oldest jin, ancient and evil. They are so powerful that other jins serve them, and sometimes human

beings also become their slaves, both willingly and unwillingly. A medieval Egyptian folk tale relates that the ghouls came into existence in the land of Yemen through the unholy union of the smoke from a fire, the seed of a wolf, and human seed inside a woman's body. How all of these things found their way to the womb, I'm not sure, and I'm also not sure I want to know. Nonetheless, the ghouls that were birth haunted the legendary Valley of

the Ghouls in Yemen. In actual place, these beastly siblings were eventually slaid by a king, but there are of course legions more. Some of those legions reside in the Cave of Ghouls located in Egypt in Mount Burka. A story from the late eighteen hundreds tells the tale of a man traveling with a group of people past this cave. He fell behind his party, and as he wandered along looking for them, a woman mysteriously appeared out of nowhere

on the mountain side. She was beautiful, as women often are in such stories, and she stood in the man's path, giving him two choices. He could either sleep with her or she would kill him. She was, as you may have realized, a ghoul. Now you can easily guess which choice the man took, and after their liaison, he was allowed to go his way. But a year later, the same woman appeared before the man, this time with a baby girl, his daughter. She left the child with him

and disappeared. The man raised a little girl, and eventually she married a man from his tribe and went on to have children. Now, before we go on with the story, let's pause here to talk about the particular kind of gin that gave birth to this little girl. That beautiful woman outside the cave of ghouls was a particularly dangerous type of ghoul, called a sila, and unlike the beastly forms that other gals take. The Sila often takes the

form of a seductive woman. The Sila stalksman and often not only eats her victims, but she toys with them, first making them dance and scamper around full of terror,

before finally putting them out of their misery. In order to trap her prey, the Sila often pretends to be a woman traveling alone and seduces lone male travelers until they're so far off the beaten path us they have no hope of escaping, just like what happened in our Cave of Ghoul story, and killing aecila is no easy task for a number of reasons, but if there's any creature capable of it, it's the one that ghouls are unable to transform into. The wolf. Wolves hold a special

place in old Arab customs as symbols of protection. It said that the wolf is so powerful against malevolent gin that wolf teeth or even a wolf's eye are used as charms to ward off evil and mothers have long sung lullabies invoking the name of the wolf to scare off evil spirits from children. You see, the wolf is the only animal that ghouls are actually scared of, and they have reason to be scared, because wolves actively hunt the most dangerous goal, the sila, that temptress that lures

unassuming men to their deaths. A thirteenth century polymath by the name of Zecharia al Kaswini described at hunt like this. The wolf sometimes hunts her at night and then eats her. As he tears into her, she raises her voice, saying, save me. The wolf is eating me. But once a wolf has a hold of his prey, no one will rescue her, and ultimately Ceila is devoured by the beast.

Now no wolf appears in the Cave of Ghoul story. However, and unfortunately, the daughter of the Ceila had to be disposed of in another way, because, according to the tale, after the daughter of the Ceila was raised, married off, and had her own children, her father made a discovery that worried him deeply. One night, he came across a grave that had been violated, dug up, it's deceased inhabitant

unearthed and parts of the body eaten. The father worried that maybe his daughter had something to do with it, given her origins, and because he knew that gals primarily feasted on human flesh. Dead or alive. He hurried to his son in law and told him his fears. So the young man began keeping an eye on his wife and discovered that she was indeed making nightly outings. He followed her one night as she crept out of the house to the local cemetery, dug up a grave and

began to feast on the body. He was horrified, and that night, when she returned to their bed, he killed her, crushing her to death. But their children lived on, married and multiplied, and to this day, in the area close to the Cave of Ghouls, the descendants of that couple still survive, and they are known as the al Guila. Tales of Ghouls are spread far and wide, not just geographically, but also throughout time. Long before the Cave of Ghoul story.

Nearly six centuries prior. In fact, an epic travel log was written by a contemporary romance author by the name of Rustiquelo da Pizza. He had had the fortune of being detained for two years in a prison with an explorer who regaled him with fantastic stories of his travels and a ventures. Da Pisa compiled the stories together in a volume called Quote The Book of the marvels of the world, each yarn more amazing than the last. You see.

This explorer that Da Pisa had been detained with described crossing entire continents from Constantinople to bot that through the magnificent Karo Kora Mountain range onto Beijing, and circling through the South China Sea, the Bay of Bengal, and up the coast of the Arabian Sea off the eastern shore of Africa. And this explorer spent nearly two decades in the court of Kubla Khan, the grandson of the great genghis Han, serving the Mongol Emperor, and he had seen

and heard it all. This explorer, well, it was none other than Marco Polo. And that book, well, it's better known in our part of the world as the travels of Marco Polo. Polos travels along the Silk Road took him at one point to a vast desert at the

center of trade routes between China, Tibet and Turkestan. The desert was so vast that some said it took a month to cross it at its narrowest point, and it took a year to cross it at its most wide And while their watering holes dotted throughout the desert was otherwise devoid of life, no animals, no people, nothing that could be hunted and eaten. And yet it wasn't completely empty.

There is a marvelous thing related of this desert, which is that when travelers are on the move by night, and one of the chances to lag behind, or to fall asleep, or the light, when he tries to gain his company again, he will hear spirits talking and will suppose them to be his comrades. Sometimes the spirits will call him by name, and thus shall a traveler. Oft times we led astray, so that he never finds his party,

and in this way many have perished. Sometimes the stray travelers will hear, as it were, the tramp and hume of a great cavalcade of people away from the real line of road, and taking this to be their own company, they will follow the sound, and when day breaks they will find that a cheat has been put on them,

and that they are in an ill plight. Even the daytime when hears those spirits talking, and sometimes you shall hear the sound of a variety of musical instruments, and still more commonly the sound of drums, Paulo had also heard of a terrifying monster found in the wilderness of Iranistan and Iran, the famed and feared role Bibon, meaning the ghoul of the waste. The ghoul was huge, dreadful to behold, and lurked in the waste lands of Central Asia,

gobbling up travelers right off of their horses. Now, Marco Polo had not confessed to seeing this ghoul himself, but he had heard it referred to many times by locals he met in his travels, and while he seemed to believe in the desert spirits that lured travelers astray, Paulo didn't put much stock in the role Baban stories. It could be that he thought, as others did, that the ghouls of the desert waste lands were simply a projection of the fear even the bravest soul feels when facing

the desolation of a vast, deserted place. The isolation, the silence, the nothingness for miles in every direction could be enough to disorient the most level headed among us, and in that condition, howling dust storms could both look and sound

like a beast rising into the sky. For the travelers that survived those journeys fantastic tales to tell would certainly be a badge of honor, and for those that didn't well, it might be kinder to think they were just snatched up by a ghoul than the alternative that they just couldn't cut it, or the tales could be precautionary, a warning to those seeking to set off into the wilderness, a threat of imminent danger to those who didn't stick close to the tribe, which is just with the lesson

from another ghoul story, this one from the fifteenth century in Valdad, also just might be. In this story, the son of a wealthy merchant falls in love with the daughter of a poor old wise man against his father's wishes, and that, dear listeners, is the disobedience and rebelliousness that

this story may have been crafted to prevent. Nonetheless, the story goes on that the father eventually relented and allowed his son to marry the beautiful young girl, and their marriage was celebrated with all the ceremony in bling that was expected of the wealthy family. The sun was elated with his new bride, but was disturbed that she would never eat. She would just leave her food untouched. At every meal, he shrugged it off. Maybe she was just shy in her new home with his new family and

didn't feel comfortable eating in front of them. But one night, the new groom awakened to find himself alone in bed. His beautiful wife was nowhere to be found. He stayed awake waiting for her, and she didn't return till an hour before the sun rose, Creeping quietly back into their bed. The next night, he decided he would only pretend to sleep to see if she again left their bed, and

she did. He followed her at a distance out of the house and all the way to a cemetery, where he saw her step into a large tomb with an open door. He cautiously entered after her, only to behold a ghastly sight. A circle of ghoules feasted on bloody, decomposing corpses, and among them was his lovely young bride, munching away with them. The man hurried home, terrified, but said nothing to his wife when she returned to their bed hours later. The next day, when she again refused

to eat, he finally couldn't take it anymore. He screamed that he knew her secret, that she fasted all days so she could feast every night with the ghouls. The wife silently rose from the table and retreated to their bedroom, where she waited for her groom. He eventually joined her, uneasily getting into bed, neither of them saying a word. Both silent and tense, that night, she didn't leave her

husband's bed at all. Instead of sneaking out for her midnight meal, she waited patiently for the first signs of slumber to overtake him. Then she pounced on her hapless groom, teeth bared towards his neck, attempting to draw and drink his blood. He awoke immediately and fought back, struggling to subdue. The fight was vicious. She had a shocking super strength, but ultimately he was able to kill her with a blow to the head. The next day, he buried her,

but she didn't stay buried. Three days later, she arose from the dead and returned to her formal marital bed to once again try and suck her husband's blood. He fled an escaped her, and the next day returned to her tomb, where he found her cold dead body. This time, he took no chances. He burned her corpse to ashes and scattered them in a river, and it worked. She

never returned. Now, you may have noticed that while this woman was fond of eating corpses as wouls do, she was also pretty focused on sinking her teeth into her husband's throat. So if this particular goal sounds very much like a vampire, there's good reason. The connection here runs thick as blood. Thou shall not eat the blood of any flesh at all, because the life of the flesh is in the blood, and whosoever eat it shall be

cut off. Leviticus spells it out pretty clearly that consuming blood for God fearing believers is not just a no no. It means being condemned to exile, to being cut off from family and community and from God himself, and driven into darkness because of their blood lust. Well, that's where we find vampires, hiding, shunned from the rest of the world, in the world of the Gin, much like the vampires of our imaginations, there are some who are driven by

pure blood lust. The first of those are the paless. The palest are Gin associated with the desert, and they have a peculiar way of satisfying their cravings. They have what you could call kind of a foot fetish. The payless will wait until the intended victim is asleep and then lick the bottoms of their feet until they bleed. It said that these gin aren't very bright or even really too dangerous, but the fact that they can manage their feet licking without waking anyone up does take a

certain level of skill. Luckily, it's not too hard to outwit this kind of gin. All you have to do is sleep feet to feet with another person, so nothing can get to the bottom of your foot. Apparently, the payless either don't know or don't care that they could get blood from other parts of your body. The payless may give you a good giggle, but there's nothing funny about another blood sucking creature found in Hindu folklore that's not only believed to be a gin, but some call

the original vampire. Hundreds of years before Glad the Impaler came onto the scene in Romania, the vetala already existed in Hindu folk core and tradition. A terrifying evil species of gin, the vetala were thought to inhabit the reanimated corpses of the dead. They often haunt ternal grounds, which are above ground sites with the dead or left to either putrefy or be cremated. They are super strong, super smart,

and super hungry for the blood that sustained them. One of the most famous stories by the Vitala is found in an ancient sanscrit book hailing from the eighth century called the Vetala Pachisi, which means the twenty five Stories of Atala. The story revolves around the famous Indian king victrum Aditya, who was an actual historical figure from the

first century that reached mythological status over the sentries. There are different interpretations and versions of the story, but the basic premise is this the mighty king was asked by a sorcerer to help capture of Atala that could be found hanging from a tree in a graveyard. An eighteen seventy adaptation of the story by the British Oriental list Sir Richard Francis Burton recounts the encounter of King Victram

and the vampire like this. Approaching the tree, he sat there for a while to observe the body, which hung head downwards from a branch a little above him. Its eyes, which were wide open, were of a greenish brown, and never twinkled. Its hair was also brown, and brown was its face. Its body was thin and ribbed, like a skeleton or a bamboo framework, and as it held onto a bow like a flying fox, by the toe tips, its drawn muscles stood out as if they were ropes

of coin. Blood it appeared to have none, and as the raja handled its skin, it felt icy, cold and clammy, as might a snake. The only sign of life was the whisking of a ragged little tail, much resembling a goat's king Vicram climbed the tree and sliced the branch the beast hung from with his sword. He scrambled down the tree trunk to get ahold of the creature, but it slipped out of his grasp like a worm, and levitated with legs up and once again grabbed a tree

branch with its toes. The Vitala swung back and forth from the branch, laughing in the king's bewildered face. The king tried again and again and again to cut down the beast and capture him, but each time the Vitala rose back up into the tree unbothered. Finally, the Vittala, growing tired of the game, asked the king, who are you and what do you want? His Royal highness responded that he was Raja Victram, the great King of the land, and it was his mission to take him back to

the sorcerer as he had promised to do. Hearing this, the Vitala suddenly became coi and agreed to accompany the king if only he was allowed to tell him stories during the journey, and in those stories pose riddles with this condition. Every time the king answered one of the Vitala's riddles, the demon would escape and return to his tree. But as long as the king remained silent, either out of humility or because couldn't answer the question, the Vitala

would remain in his custody. Now this might seem kind of counterintuitive and contradictory to most such stories that involved conditions with riddles, but you see, this was a test

of the king's pride, and he accepted the test. And so they took off, and the vampire told King Vicram story after story after story, twenty four in all, and in each story a riddle, and every time the king, unable to control his ego and pride, would respond to the Vitala's riddles with an answer, and every time he did, the Vattalah would slip away, journeying back to his tree in the graveyard, and the king would have to start all over. Finally, after hearing the twenty five story and riddle,

King Victram pressed his lips together, refusing to answer. This overjoyed the Vitala, who then revealed a secret to him. The sorcerer, he said, was no friend of the king, indeed, he was his enemy in disguise, out for the King's blood, and the Vitala himself was in fact a trap the sorcerer had placed for the king. Once revealing the secret, the Vitala extracted itself from the body it inhabited, letting

out a slow, low hissing sound as it left. Thanks to the secret spilled by the Vitala, King Victram was able to trick and kill the sorcerer, thereby growing in power himself. And all this because he was able to just once show a little humility. Now, the Vitala isn't the only vampiresh creature in Indian folklore. In fact, there are lots of them. The stories about the origins and how they terrorize people vary, and you can hear all those echoes in European vampire lore, but most of them

have a few things in common. That you'll find vampires lingering and living among the human dead and graveyards and crematoriums, that they yearned for human blood, and that, like the gin woman in the train at the beginning in this episode, you'll find that their feet are turned backwards. As you may have guessed it by now, there's no one definitive way to identify a gin, but you'll probably know one

when you see it. The only time you might not, however, is when a gin takes what I think is the most dangerous and sinister form, transforming into someone you know, which has been known to happen. Jin can and will take on the appearance of not just any human, but an actual human who's already living, or sometimes a human who's very much dead. They can then play tricks on the friends and loved ones of that person, lying to them, persuading them to do things or believe things they shouldn't.

Imagine how easy it could be to mislead someone that way, and how much trouble it could get an innocent party in. But then there is that one way to make sure the person you're dealing with is really who they say they are, because for some reason, the gin can shape shift to trick you. But the one thing they can't change is their feet. Their feet will either be backwards or they'll be cloven hose, like in the story of the beautiful Queen of Sheba, who was reportedly born of

a gin mother and a human father. But even she couldn't shake the gin jeans, and in some accounts, while she was stunningly beautiful, she did in fact have hairy goat legs, hoves and all. Now we'll close out with the story closer to home and closer in time to us from New Mexico. According to the book The Vengeful Gin in Ninete, the uncle of the questa New Mexico police chief, was driving home late one night on a

lonely highway. A woman appeared out of the darkness, walking on the side of the road by herself, dressed strangely enough in a red evening gown. There was no telling where she had come from. The highway was empty, and he hadn't passed any abandoned cars. He pulled over and offered her a ride, and she hopped into his pickup

truck quietly, not saying a word. After a few silent men, it's the man turned to his passenger to ask her what she was doing in the middle of nowhere that late at night, and was horrified to find her dress had fallen open, revealing legs like a goat and cloven hooves. But before he could react or even scream, she poof vanished into thin air. I guess the lesson to all of us is, then, when in doubt, check the feet.

Thanks for joining us this week. Next week we'll be back to take you another step into the world of the Hidden Gin. Until then, remember we are not alone. If you loved today's episode, I'm going to ask you a big favor. Please stop my iTunes and leave me a rating and a review, even if it's just one short sentence. Not only is that how other listeners discover the podcast, but it's also what keeps the podcast going. And for every thousand reviews that I get on iTunes,

I'll release another Patreon episode absolutely free. That's right, We're on Patreon, so if you're a Gin enthusiast, check out the Companion Patreon series at patreon dot com slash Hidden

Jin again. That's Patreon dot com slash Hidden Gin and remember Jin is spelled d j I n N. That's where you're gonna find an amazing series of interviews between me, scholars, experts, artist, historians, and everyday lay people who have had extraordinary experiences with Jin and everybody can check out the first episode absolutely free. It's me and my husband sharing our gen stories and it was a lot of fun. And if you have any Gin stories, well, I'd love to hear from you.

Email me at the Hidden Gin at gmail dot com. Once again, it's the Hidden Gin Gin with a D at gmail dot com and you might just hear back from me, or you might hear your story on the show. And finally, don't forget to follow us on social media. We're on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram with the handle the Hidden Gin. There you can wheat, post, insta, dm me. I'd love to hear from all of you, and believe me,

I read every single message. The Hidden Gin is a production of I Heart Radio and Grimm and Mild from Aaron Mankey. The podcast is written and hosted by Robbia Chaudry and produced by Miranda Hawkins and Trevor Young, with executive producers Aaron Mankey, Alex Williams, and Matt Frederick. Music for the show was provided by smith Sony and Folkways Recordings.

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