From the bottom of the steps we hired three bedoine donkey owners to take us up the monastery steps for 5 JD each. Not such a good deal according to Maha but that's what happens when you're a foreign female without an intimidating male escort. Whatever. So worth it. The guides promised it'd take 20 minutes on donkeys (as opposed to an hour on foot). It took 45, so I don't even want to know how long it would've taken on foot. I'm not sure which I was more amazed by: the poor donkeys who carry passengers 1/2 their weight or greater up 260 steps all day or their crazy masters who run up the steps beside them without water, making commands that sound remarkably similar to growling to their beasts and reassurances smoother than a car salesman's hair to the riders who feel concerned about falling off various overcrowded cliffs.
Donkey riding is actually very similar to horseback riding, except donkeys are less responsive and shorter.
My donkey's name was Jack. His owner's name was Abraham. Abraham told me he'd been working at this job since he was 15 (10 years ago). When we stopped 1/2 way up to wait for Skye on Jalzira, Abraham told me that he sleeps on a mat there during the night. I cannot imagine such a hot, thirsty, hard life. He seems to enjoy it.
The closest rider in the photo is Abraham. The darkly dressed guy behind him started off as Skye's guide, but was replaced half-way up by an 8 year old boy. The man beside Abraham was Danielle's guide and she's convinced he was psychotic: he kept commanding her donkey to get ahead of all the others climbing the stairs, until at one point she was leaning over the edge of a cliff and her harrassed donkey started to slip and nearly fell over. I told you the East was fun.
Saturday, October 21, 2006
HTEWF, e.
From the bottom of the steps we hired three bedoine donkey owners to take us up the monastery steps for 5 JD each. Not such a good deal according to Maha but that's what happens when you're a foreign female without an intimidating male escort. Whatever. So worth it. The guides promised it'd take 20 minutes on donkeys (as opposed to an hour on foot). It took 45, so I don't even want to know how long it would've taken on foot. I'm not sure which I was more amazed by: the poor donkeys who carry passengers 1/2 their weight or greater up 260 steps all day or their crazy masters who run up the steps beside them without water, making commands that sound remarkably similar to growling to their beasts and reassurances smoother than a car salesman's hair to the riders who feel concerned about falling off various overcrowded cliffs.
Donkey riding is actually very similar to horseback riding, except donkeys are less responsive and shorter.
My donkey's name was Jack. His owner's name was Abraham. Abraham told me he'd been working at this job since he was 15 (10 years ago). When we stopped 1/2 way up to wait for Skye on Jalzira, Abraham told me that he sleeps on a mat there during the night. I cannot imagine such a hot, thirsty, hard life. He seems to enjoy it.
The closest rider in the photo is Abraham. The darkly dressed guy behind him started off as Skye's guide, but was replaced half-way up by an 8 year old boy. The man beside Abraham was Danielle's guide and she's convinced he was psychotic: he kept commanding her donkey to get ahead of all the others climbing the stairs, until at one point she was leaning over the edge of a cliff and her harrassed donkey started to slip and nearly fell over. I told you the East was fun.
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