A donkey ride: an adventure for tourists who’ve had enough of the sea

A donkey ride, a secluded monastery and a well-deserved dinner under the open sky…

The beach, sun loungers, children running about, waiters serving beer – the monotonous daily routine of a tourist. For seasoned travellers, this starts to get on their nerves even before they reach the resort. We’re not just crossing the border to sunbathe and swim in the sea.

It’s far more interesting to get to know a new country, its culture, traditions and sights. We board a coach, where a dreary guide drones on all day, whilst the scenes outside the window blur into a motley stream of indistinct landscapes.

No! The most interesting thing is to get to know the people, to experience the colour of their cultural traditions, and to sit down together at the same table. In Cyprus, the easiest way to do this is in a remote mountain village, where the unique way of life captivates city dwellers. Simple folk live here: hospitable, cheerful Greeks, ready to welcome long-awaited guests.

This excursion will showcase not only the beauty of Cyprus’s natural landscape, but also the boundless warmth of Cypriot hospitality.

On the day of the tour, you’ll have the chance to sleep in and bask in the sunshine in the morning: the trip starts in the afternoon, straight after lunch, and will end… Patience! An exciting journey and an unforgettable attraction await us.

The coach meanders leisurely through the streets of Paphos, ‘picking up’ tourists from their hotels. We leave the coast behind and head north – into the mountains! The first stop is the picturesque dam at the Asprokremmos Reservoir. This is a man-made lake where fresh water collects in winter. The reservoirs are teeming with fish, and anglers, having purchased an inexpensive licence, indulge in their favourite pastime here all year round.

Ten minutes to take some souvenir photos, and we’re off again. Our destination is the village of Kelokedara, tucked away amongst the mighty mountain slopes.

Our fellow travellers seem to have only just started waking up, whilst Ksyusha and I were gazing with interest at the familiar landscapes. The tour guide was gradually preparing everyone for the extreme experience ahead; for some, the full horror of the entertainment in store was only just beginning to dawn on them!

The thing is, the donkeys in Cyprus bear no resemblance whatsoever to that poor creature that carried Shurik in *The Caucasian Captive*.

The donkeys here are giants, and their nicknames are just as impressive. Schumacher earned his nickname for his love of galloping off with his rider, far away from the main group. Sarkozy is a fan of long-legged female donkeys. As for me, I’ll be getting ‘Limousine’ — a special breed for carrying portly, stately figures.

A little training in toasts goes some way towards calming and cheering up the tourists. ‘Yamas!’ — the tour guide teaches us Cyprus’s most famous drinking toast.

The journey flew by as we chatted; our coach pulled up at the entrance to the village, where we spotted some rare Bedford models opposite. These vintage vehicles were manufactured by GM’s British division.

After a short stroll through the village’s narrow streets, we boarded the coach and… I’d never experienced anything quite like THIS, not even in Sochi during the sweltering summer of ’95. The bus made its way along a narrow track winding between the mountainside and the precipice, whilst the exclamations of the impressed ladies also sent a rush of adrenaline through our veins.

They’d thought of everything! I’m talking about the owners of the donkey farm. Yes, my dears, Russians and Greeks understand each other with their hearts. And as for the best way to cut through the adrenaline… A cheerful ‘Yamas!’ echoed through the mountain valley.

The welcome drink included juices and water for the children, white and red wine for the ladies and… Well, of course! Zivania for the men and the brave women! Let me remind you that zivania is the Cypriot equivalent of grappa, chacha, raki and other types of grape brandy. After tucking into some vegetables, nuts and halloumi cheese, the adults in the group were in high spirits, whilst the children had long been frolicking around the donkeys.

The four-legged friends perked up too when they spotted the tourists. Firstly, another bit of fun awaited them, and secondly, it was time for a treat!

The sweet fruits of the carob tree – ‘donkey chocolate’ – were carefully packed into little bags, and the children fed their new friends with great delight.

The riders are all set, the pack animals have had a snack – let’s go! Chris, the farm owner, begins his briefing.  ‘Don’t use the donkey’s ears as a lead—it hurts the poor thing,’ explains the experienced donkey keeper. ‘Once you’re on the donkey, the main thing is to get comfortable and relax! A donkey isn’t a person; you don’t need to spend ages persuading it.’

At first timidly, then with joy and laughter, we begin to settle onto our unexpectedly acquired mounts. Chris’s donkeys are peaceful and good-natured, but the sensation, I can tell you!

Having never sat in a saddle before, I felt the full fragility of existence when the ground beneath me, swaying slightly, began to move without my realising it. But I’m a good learner, and I need to set an example for my daughter sitting in front of me. Once I’d relaxed and found my balance, I felt much more confident. ‘Yee-haw!’ cried Ksyusha triumphantly. It was clear to see that my little one was in a state of utter and indescribable delight.

As an organised group, we set off… No, not to a watering hole, even though our path ran along the bed of a dried-up mountain river. Green slopes glided past on either side, bathed in the pre-sunset rays of the sun.

Ahead of us appeared the ancient male monastery of Sindi. The monastery was built in the 13th century. The monastery’s church is consecrated in honour of the icon of the Most Holy Mother of God Eleusa, which translates as ‘She Who Blesses the People’.

Today, no monks live in the monastery, but the church is still in use: the sacraments of Baptism and Marriage are performed here.

Towards the end of the 19th century, the monastery was restored and was awarded a gold medal by UNESCO in 1997. The monastery’s church is unique in its own way – the stone dome is supported solely by four load-bearing walls, with no supporting columns. Sitting on a wooden bench in the quiet coolness of the ancient church, one feels an indescribable sense of peace.

Having fortified ourselves with some citrus fruit, we climb onto our trusty mounts and set off on the return journey. The Filipino donkey herders have to hold back their long-eared steeds: the donkeys nearly galloped home, anticipating their hard-earned supper.

Relieved to have solid ground beneath our feet once more, the participants in the ‘bullfight’ began to feel peckish. And no wonder! The intoxicating aromas of meat sizzling over charcoal drifted from the house! After a ceremonial presentation of our donkey-driving licences, we happily took our seats at the tables set up under the canopy.

It was a marvellous evening! The sun had disappeared behind the mountainside, a cool breeze was blowing in from the sea, and the drinks in the decanters confirmed our belief that this evening was bound to be a success.

Simple country fare – a few types of kebab, salads, olives and tzatziki – seemed incredibly delicious in this warm, homely atmosphere. But it’s not just a feeling – it really is incredibly tasty with a glass of homemade wine or a misted-up shot of zivania!

Louis didn’t stay on his own for long. Warmed by the experience, the food, the drinks and, above all, the warm welcome, the guests broke into dance.

The empty decanters on the tables were replaced with fresh ones; the dancing drew in even the most ardent opponents of this pastime. The area in front of the house, bathed in the light of the full moon, was the perfect setting for a magical, romantic evening, and they could let their hair down without fear of complaints from disgruntled neighbours.

Greek melodies gave way to international dance classics mixed with pop; tonight, anything goes and everything is appropriate: ‘Utia’, ‘Shizgara’, ‘Mamba’ – ‘all hell broke loose at the Smeshanskys’!

Yes, it feels as though you’re getting tipsy just from the memories, and the only slight downer was that some of the guests were getting a bit too boisterous.

The children began to drift off to sleep, and the donkeys in the stable occasionally brayed – it was probably time for them to sleep too. Warm goodbyes, promises to return…

We got on the bus, and my soul, having opened up and yearning to fly, began to sing! Ksyusha looked at me in alarm: ‘Daddy, what are they doing?’ Yes, my friends and I don’t usually get to that level at home, and my daughter knows nothing about traditional drinking songs. Her moment had come!

I gazed wearily out of the window, past which the island’s whimsical landscapes drifted by, the entire history of its existence, which had become a welcoming home to people of different nationalities, representatives of different peoples, who had found peace, tranquillity and love here.

Tour price:

• adults €69;
• child €35.

To book a tour, you can fill in the online booking form, email us at: orShow email call us on: +357 25 310 692.