Ian, Dima, Donkeys and Eruptions

The gods were very angry— Moon over Berlin, B3C18

Juliette followed the guys down the gangplank, tugging on her hat so she could stare up into the blazing sun to check out the cliff. Hundreds of feet up! The usual gaggle of tour guides, hucksters, and shouting taxi drivers didn’t surprise her, but that cliff was so high! And …

She tapped Dima on the shoulder. “What the HELL are those for?”

“Donkeys!” he said. “Oh, my God, they’re so cute, but they’re all roped together. What the devil?”

Mark hopped off the gangplank and ran over to the string of little animals. He read a sign and called over his shoulder. “Looks like two ways up to the top of Santorini. We can either take a taxi-van or the donkey train!”

“Wooo!” laughed Ian. “No taxis for us!”

“Oh, God no,” grumbled Juliette.

Twenty minutes later she was hanging on tight, saddle leather creaking under her weight as the tiny burro picked its way up an almost vertical path. “I’m gonna kill you guys,” she shouted.

Mark’s mount was just ahead of her, Ian and Dima bringing up the rear. She shuddered as a stone skittered and her donkey skipped a step. She looked back to complain to Dima, but that only brought the ocean into view…