I was staying in an apartment near Pefki, a town on the northern coast of the island of Rodos, Greece and I was there to go swimming.
The best place to swim was behind my apartment, where there was a sandy beach and deep water. But to get there involved having to follow a narrow track about 300 metres long through an empty field covered in high grass. It was a good idea to keep to the track when crossing the field, because in the nearby grass there were lots of prickles and thorns.
Lots?
Billions, it seemed; an inexhaustible number.
However it wasn’t often possible to keep to the track because there was a mad donkey to contend with. The donkey was tethered by a rope to a stake in the ground, but the rope was several meters long, which gave it enough leeway to easily reach the walking track.
And for some reason, it was in the habit of charging human visitors. Many times when I followed the track to the beach – and back again – and the donkey, on seeing me, raced towards me making its donkey noise – how could you describe it?
Like a mixture between a wail, a scream, and a very rusty gate. It was called ‘braying’ but somehow that word didn’t seem to capture the incredible noise which this animal made.
I never hung around long enough to see what the donkey would do when it reached me.
When an animal of that size moves towards you at such a speed and making such a noise, then discretion is definitely the better part of valour. When the donkey started running, I took to my heels and made sure I got out of its tether-range as fast as I could. This meant leaving the track and fleeing into wild grass and making a wide circle around the donkey.
After clearing the field, I had to then stop and meticulously pick out the carpet of thorns stuck to my rubber sandals.
That crazy donkey!
If it wasn’t for him, I would have been in a swimmer’s paradise!
But as the days passed, the donkey became a part of my life and it wasn’t long before he became a part of my experience of Rodos….