My Summer With Donkeys
A short story for my friends and family (and curious strangers).
Because I’d have to write a book to cover everything.
Background
The summer after I graduated college I booked a one way ticket to the arctic circle, Norway, where I spent 30 days living with strangers who are now some of my favorite people. With no destination planned after my stay, I ended up taking a last-minute opportunity to help a Swiss woman in Northern Spain take care of her herd of donkeys in the French Pyrenees. I committed to this stay six days in advance, and booked my plane ticket 2 days in advance. To get off the island I had been staying at, I had to take a 2-hour ferry, a 1 hour plane ride to Oslo, Norway, and then another flight to Barcelona.
When I arrived in Barcelona it was late–midnight if I remember correctly. Luckily I had been smart enough to book a hotel with an airport shuttle. I spent two nights there. Explored some of city for one day, and then took a taxi to the train station the following.
The Trip
I arrived at the train station 2 hours early because the train line only went to my destination once a day, and I didn’t want to miss it. I now know arriving 2 hours early was absurd! The train ride took 3 hours but was very relaxing and scenic. It took me to a small city on the French border where my host picked me up. Originally, I was supposed to take another bus but luckily she had some errands she had to run that day. Twenty three year old me was not capable of taking remote public transportation, so I am forever grateful she picked me up.
She greeted me with a hug, took me with to run her errands, and then drove west to the village nearest our stay. From the bottom of the mountain to the camp was over 40 minutes. The roads on the mountain were winding with no guardrails, and this lady drove like a madwoman.
Eventually the road turned to gravel and we continued until it ended at an old finca. The owners no longer lived there, but they were there daily to collect payment from those who wanted to use the dirt parking lot for hiking.
We got out of the car and walked through a tall grass field to a large paddock with many donkeys. Inside this paddock was a small fenced off area with three tents; a large one for her, a small one for me, and a third for the kitchen. We used solar lights at night and a propane stove for cooking. Every morning I took a shovel to a hidden area and dug a hole to go poop, then wrapped up the toilet paper and tossed it in the garbage bag. There was a working outlet at the finca, so I was able to charge my phone, when needed.
The work was pretty light. Roughly 3 hours a day; 2 in the morning and one at night. I don’t think she actually needed the help. I think she enjoyed having the company. Since she spoke fluent English, we spent much of our time sitting around and talking. About life, her daughter, relationships. I learned a lot from her during my stay. Many of these things were simple, like how to cut fruits and vegetables with only a knife (no cutting board), and how to cook with vegetables. I remember feeling like a stupid American, unable to whip up a meal without a microwave or a recipe.
Many days it was too hot to hike so I’d spend it swimming in the river that ran through our camp, reading, or hanging out with the donkeys.
This time of my life was very peaceful, but I remember the boredom I had the last week when I had no more books to read, couldn’t hike because of the heat, and couldn’t call family because of reception and data.
Honestly, the lady I stayed with didn’t have too much in common with me but I was intrigued with her story and admired her independence. She made her living by renting her donkeys to hiking enthusiasts who wanted to experience 1 to 14 day hikes with pack donkeys.
I’m curious what she thought about me. I think if I went back it would be a lot different. She allowed me to stay when I naive and nervous. She made it seem like a lot of others who stayed were well-traveled and confident. But because of her generosity, I am more confident, and I won’t forget my time spent with her.
Stories
The time I almost broke my arm
You know how things tend to go south at the most inopportune times? Well this almost went really bad, at the worst time.
Just like any other morning, I threw out the slow feeders to the donkeys and was stuffing the ones for tomorrow with hay and straw. The bales were on wooden pallets which were mostly exposed. I was stepping from one pallet to the other when my foot slipped and I fell. I landed with my hand and forearm in one of the gaps, and my body landed on the edge, causing most of my weight to fall off the side of the pallet onto the grass. Because the angle was awkward, my forearm was stuck underneath one of the boards, causing a nasty divet and bruise that lasted for about 2 weeks. I know bones are strong, but I’m convinced if I had put any more pressure on my arm it would have snapped.
I had to sit down and calm my nerves, when my thoughts started racing. Where is the nearest hospital? Who would’ve take me there? Of course it would be the one day my host was out of town. There was a car I could’ve used, but it was a manual and I was in the mountains. I could have ran to the finca where the owners were, but they didn’t speak English and I did not speak their level of Spanish (although I’m sure they would’ve figured out my problem).
But in the end, I didn’t break my arm and saved myself an awkward phone call with my mom.
O.K.
Every Sunday the finca owners had a little lunch get together with some other people from the town. One Sunday they invited me and my host to attend. I was very hungry, and therefore very excited to be invited. It started at about noon and I refused their drinks because I was not a fan of wine. This lunch lasted until 7pm! Not only was I itching to leave, but I had the worst headache from listening to Spanish and Catalan.
The following week we were invited again, and this time I choked down some wine. With my liquid encouragement I attempted to speak Spanish which was not very good. There was this one guy who spoke zero English but was extremely friendly and trying to make me feel less nervous. Apparently I had said O.K. numerous times and eventually he stared at me and started laughing, saying I didn’t have any vocabulary besides OK. He didn’t understand the meaning of it, but noticied I was using it in almost every sentence. After my host explained the meaning of it and its versatility, everyone at the table responded to me and each other with “OK”. It really was the highlight of my day.
Chasing a donkey up the mountain
There was this little donkey I liked named Esperanza. She was energetic and an easy walker. So when my host told me to pick a donkey to take on a “little” hike, I chose her. She on the other hand saddled up her mule and took him. At times she’d walk beside him and at other times she rode him. But from the get go, it was obvious that the mule was much faster than little Esperanza and I.
We headed down the valley towards the base of the mountain. I think it ended up being a four-mile hike, so two miles down, and two miles up. The hike down was very pretty with views of little mountain villages and other peaks. However, then it was time to walk back up the mountain, and guess what my host does! That’s right, she gets on her mule and goes in-between walking and trotting back up the mountain. Esperanza became stubborn, so I had to stand behind her with a stick and give her little encouragement taps.
So poor Esperanza and I were running up this mountain trying to keep up while my host was sitting comfortably on her mule, laughing at us.
Moral of the story: Never trust someone from Switzerland when they say they are going on a “little hike”.
