Burro Safari

One day Jane Barbadillo, Sunnyview elementary school principal then and school director now, invited us to visit the hamlet of Tolox (tō.LŌS, more or less). You’ve never heard of the village? If you Google it, you still won’t know much because it sits in isolation, off the beaten path, surrounded by other villages you’ve never heard of. We left Torremolinos and drove and drove, and then drove some more, until we came to a turn in the road that took us off the main “highway.” Then we drove and drove some more.

We finally found Tolox in the foothills. Like many old villages, Tolox looks in on itself. Central buildings face the plaza mayor from which little streets designed for burro traffic spread out. You couldn’t drive comfortably on those streets, not even in the small European cars, because they’re too narrow. You couldn’t skateboard comfortably because the streets were cobbled. Walking had its perils.

We parked in a lot outside of town and walked to the plaza mayor where we met Señor Sanchez, bar-restaurant-burro safari entrepreneur. For 200 pesetas he offered to furnish a light breakfast of chocolate and churros (or brandy and churros if you preferred), a burro trek into the surrounding hillsides ending at a waterfall, a paella luncheon cooked over an open fire by the waterfall accompanied by beer, wine or soft drinks, a return to his stables and a sangria party. At the time 200 pesetas equaled $3.00 and change.

We enjoyed ourselves so much that we set up a field trip for a few 6th-, 7th- and 8th-graders. My part in this scheme, besides being a chauffeur, was to make arrangements for the safari with Sr. Sanchez by telephone. I don’t like talking on the telephone even in English and I really disliked doing so in Spanish. For one thing, they always answered my questions. Then what to do? My Spanish is usually good enough to say anything I wish, but I fall short at understanding rapid replies. And Spanish seems to be spoken at automatic weapon speed everywhere but Madrid. Madrileños pride themselves on clarity, but this concept has not caught on anywhere else.

I phoned Sr. Sanchez. To do so, I had to use the operator and ask for “Señor Sanches, Tolox 50.”

“Tolox cincuenta?” the operator asked unbelievingly. She was obviously used to putting phone calls through to the United Nations Headquarters or Buckingham Palace and now I show up with an obviously bogus number. I was probably some kid or a drunk tourist up to a prank.

After some hesitation, she put the call through and Sr. Sanchez sounded like he was next door.

Once we were all mounted and headed into the hills, things quieted down, at least from my point of view. The kids proceeded nose to tail on their burros and presented no difficulties. Once we got to the waterfall, they went swimming, clothes and all. Again, no problem. I wasn’t going to be the one wearing blisters in sensitive places by riding home in damp clothes.

The paella was almost ready when Sr. Sanchez broke out the beer and soft drinks. Guess which ones the kids wanted. Now we had a teeny bit of a problem that I solved by sitting on the cooler.

In due course we returned to Tolox where the children led their burros to their stalls. Sr. Sanchez had arranged for a sangria party for us all. Fortunately, one of the jennies had just foaled and the kids all wanted to be in the barn with the newborn.

It was really a great field trip, saving for the fact that Sr. Sanchez kept trying to pour booze down our kids’ throats. I later saw Sr. Sanchez burro safari as a regular offering by the Wiley Coyote Tour Company in Torremolinos. They wanted 2000 pesetas. I hoped Sr. Sanchez was getting more than 200 of that.