A First Donkey Taxi Ride

No, they're not self driving.

We currently live in a hilly neighborhood of San Francisco, named Cathedral Hill after nearby St. Mary’s Cathedral. As I was huffing and puffing up one of the hills the other day, it reminded me of our misadventure in Turkey. In 2014 we took a fascinating guided tour through central Turkey from Istanbul down to the border of Syria. Part of the tour took us to a World Heritage site: Mount Nemrut, the 7,000-foot mountain in the southeastern part of the country, where you can hike to its summit to examine a number of large statues erected around a royal tomb from the 1st century BC.

As we exited our Mercedes tour van we immediately saw what we were up against: a hill traversed with steps, the end of which was imperceptible (below). But, intrepid—or should I say naively resolute—travelers that we were, the challenge was to be met head on.

The true intrepids had already outpaced us. We thought, “No problem, we’ll catch up.” But then I reminded myself that I was on a trial drug for my prostate cancer and that might affect my stamina. Soon we became aware of a man nearby on a donkey. He was the driver of the taxi service up the hill for wayward souls who couldn’t mount Mount Nemrut. We said, “Don’t think we’ll need that service.”

Pretty soon we saw the first of our group being given a lift by the very taxi guy himself.

Mind you, this is extremely rocky terrain and it appeared to us that the ride on the taxi might be more perilous than collapsing on the steps where the taxi doesn’t run. Giving it all she had to the point of near-exhaustion, Peggy was the first to summon the Donkey Uber. Images have been excluded in the interests of privacy and to keep peace in the family. I soldiered on (well, soldiering is a pompous and inaccurate word in this case). I too folded shortly thereafter, having to summon my Turkish cabby friend. Those images are also censored. The most unstable point is bringing yourself up onto the donkey. I have to say, the animal was very cooperative and tranquil during the several attempts I made getting seated on the comfortably padded and colorful “saddle.” We only hoped that the poor overworked thing has a backup in the barn down the hill.

Once our cabbies delivered us to the summit we had the smug feeling that we had done it. Nothing to it. Once there, we realized that we were basically alone. That’s because the others were already starting to head down. But, that meant we had the whole place to explore by ourselves including the amazing heads and sculptures. In 62 BC, King Antiochus I of Commagene built a tomb-sanctuary flanked by huge statues 8–9-metre high (26–30 ft) of himself, two lions, two eagles, and various composite Greek and Iranian gods. At some point the heads of the statues were removed from their bodies, and they are now scattered throughout the site.

Once we regained our energy, the steps back down (below) seemed slightly less ominous. No donkey taxi was summoned and we made it safely to our tour vehicle, pride roughly 70% intact.

In comparison, our neighborhood hills seem far less daunting, although there are times when we wish we had access to one of those donkey cabs. Or, maybe some day, Waymo will make a self-driving pedicab that roams the streets looking for exhausted seniors.

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