We start off this week with the hardest word to say, sorry. Many apologies to Hotel Annabelle in Paphos and Ariyasom Villa Hotel in Bangkok. We managed to get your bedrooms muddled up in the pictures.

I know the buck should stop with me, but I’m not having that! I rely on my back-up team to select photographs, I can’t see them, so it was a shock to me when I was informed that we had portrayed the room in Bangkok as being in Paphos.

Once again, sorry! I am absolutely sure it will happen again! Can’t get the staff.

Bridge Over The River Kwai

From the moment we decided to visit Thailand there was only one place I wanted to head for.

Some readers of this blog will have read how much I enjoy an old battleground, indeed, we spent last year’s wedding anniversary stomping around Bosworth Field. Jane will tell you, that compared to our wedding night, that was utterly romantic. For my sins, in the honeymoon suite, there was a television. Quite usual for a hotel room, even in 1987, and it was colour, but what wasn’t usual was the groom turning it on to watch the test match. I only wanted to catch the score, honest. An old friend of mine from my cricketing glory days was turning in his best performance for England.

Jane felt I was being a little unreasonable as she sat drinking complimentary champagne on the bed. I did offer up the excuse that the bowler had once been under my captaincy at colts’ level; did I feel shame that when I should have been bowling a maiden over, I was watching someone else bowl maiden overs and, to be fair to me, taking wickets as well! It couldn’t have been that bad as we should reach our 38th marking of this auspicious occasion during next year. There must be another old relic or monument I can find for us to visit! Did I do wrong? I have blatantly turned my back on the fact that a colt steps up to be a stallion! That’s for others to decide.

We all know something about the Siam-Burma Death Railway but, in truth, none of us really knows enough. As I mentioned in a Singapore episode, neither Jane nor I were that well clued up on the Second World War in Asia. Standing at the site of one of the more infamous landmarks of that war brings it home to you what horror these soldiers, slaves by anyone’s description, went through at the hands of the occupying Japanese. I always get moved by military remembrance. This day would prove to be no exception. Unlike the European theatre I am not aware that I have any relations, alive or dead, who served in these parts. I, of course, stand to be corrected by any family members who might read this.

The first port of call was the cemetery at Kanchanaburi. Walking into the field, like the Commonwealth cemeteries in Europe, the rows of grave-markers stretched out, further than the eye could see for me, on, what on normal enclosed spaces would be a well-manicured lawn. The area was beautifully tended, lawnmowers cutting back and forth, groundskeepers trimming the endless rows of graves.

We strolled up and down among the nearer rows. It is the same as the ones in Europe, the first thing you notice is the age of the interred. Even though I don’t have grandchildren as old as these victims of a brutal war, in a foreign land, many of them were, technically, young enough to be our grandchildren. As is always the case, and I make no apology for this, the tears started to run down my face. I know I am remembering my uncles who went off to war in Europe and Africa. My father was too young to serve.

The graves themselves were brass plaques set on top of a slanting rock which seemed to sparkle in the sunshine. I now know, thanks to the incredibly moving book by Eric Lomax, The Railwayman, that these gravestones were cut from limestone. What I had not realised until I had listened to the audio book was that some of the graves were not marked with names, we did not saunter along every row, I always feel like an imposter when walking among the remains of these brave men, was that some plaques merely said “Dedicated to a soldier of the 1939 – 45 war. Known only to God.” Excuse me, but God, isn’t that moving. I also think that every little trumped-up politician should be made to visit places like this when they are considering sending their young folk off to war. It is always soldiers, sailors and fliers who cop the ultimate sacrifice on behalf of failed politicians.

From here we walked along to the museum, The Thailand-Burma Railway Centre. Many relics of the time were on display, all set there as a lesson from history to the modern day. One simple wall display brought home the sheer brutality of the building of the railway, which does not operate any longer, railway spikes, the ones used for connecting the rails to the sleepers, were set out in clusters. Each spike represents 500 prisoners of war who died during its construction. That means that there are around 320 of these spikes on show which, to me, is vast enough and serves as a poignant reminder of the atrocities that took place in the name of war.

Eventually, we hopped on a preserved rail carriage, from a bygone era, for the journey across the infamous bridge. There cannot be a more symbolic heritage railway journey anywhere in the world. It seemed a million miles and lightyears away from the hardship endured by the POW slaves at the hands of their masters. Crops of sugar cane, rice and mangoes came nearly to the edge of the scar, cut through this verdant landscape, making it seem all-so-peaceful. Right next to the bridge is a modern hotel resort offering a far more desirable form of accommodation to guests. Incongruity is not a strong enough word. Yet, this area serves as a real reminder of the futility of war to those who are still alive and remember what went on in this fertile land.

I noted “The Railwayman” by Eric Lomax above. Jane bought this at the museum. I immediately looked the title up in my audio books app and was rewarded when I purchased this version. Whilst it looks back to a time that most of us cannot envisage it is brought to life by the brilliant Bill Patterson. I was lucky enough to discover an old recording of Lomax’s voice and, I have to say, Patterson’s own voice bears a cadent similarity to the author. He brings every syllable, word, sentence, paragraph and chapter to life. I have only owned this recording for just over two months at the time of writing and must have played it in part or whole at least ten times. It is one of those accounts where you learn something new each time you listen to it. If there were the equivalent of Oscars for audio books I feel sure that this would sweep the board.

I have continued learning more about the war in East Asia and will continue to do so. Equally, I feel I could report every new discovery in these pages but, alas, it is time to move on.

Off to Koh Tao next.

Find Out More
Hotel: https://www.ariyasom.com;
Temples and Palaces: booked through Ariyasom;
Floating Markets: booked through Ariyasom;
Siam-Burma Death Railway: booked through Ariyasom.

White Cane Ratings
Hotel: very good - 🦯 🦯 🦯 🦯 (4)
Temples and Palaces: good, lots of steps - 🦯 🦯 🦯 (3)
Floating Markets: adequate, a little precarious - 🦯 🦯 (2)
Bridge Over the River Kwai: adequate, a little precarious - 🦯 🦯 (2)
Just a polite reminder, the white cane ratings reflect accessibility not how good the attraction is; all of these attractions are very good or excellent as attractions but might need a bit of care if visually impaired.

Arriving in Paphos

Normally, I think the best thing about arriving on holiday is the sudden burst of sunshine. We arrived after dark so the first dose would have to wait until the first morning. The storm had abated overnight so it was a walk as soon as the breakfast things were cleared away.

Breakfast was buffet, an enemy of blind people. Not this time, though. I had emailed the hotel before our arrival and was most impressed that when we turned up for breakfast there was a server nominated to go fetch my stuff. Plentiful fruit, nuts and seeds to start with, followed by a goodly selection of cooked. I am useless at cooking omelettes, there’s always something goes wrong, so to have a ginormous one prepared for me was a treat. The coffee was excellent so, all in all, the first meal of the day was worth getting up for. In the end, to be fair to Jane, she took it upon herself to go and get my dishes. Not all the staff, unfortunately, noticed my magic wand, that is my white stick! Overall, throughout the stay, breakfast was a great experience.

A mention here to the accessibility around the outside of the hotel. Generally, it was good, but one thing does wind me up with public places. Please don’t paint white nosings on some of your treads; either paint them on all of them or none of them. Thinking you have got it right, I then blunder into steps which aren’t marked. Not great, I am afraid!

After breakfast, off we went. We turned left, east, out of the hotel. Then, there it was, the sun on my face, on my back, and in my eyes and, by the way, on my lilywhite legs, as pointed out by a very good Facebook friend, or so I thought. I hate wearing shorts; the mercury normally has to go above 30°. This was the way to spend a grisly November day! There was not much sign of last evening’s storm, except for a few palm fronds, torn from their trees, scattered on the path; it wasn’t a huge leap of faith to imagine a fella, on a donkey, progressing along this route. We strolled along the coastal path as far as St Nicholas Church, more akin to a chapel given its size, at Sunset Point which, apparently, is the place in Paphos where one can watch the sun go down over the sea horizon every day of the year; from its most northerly point during the summer solstice, through the autumn equinox, to the most southerly point at the winter solstice. Easy access to sunsets means it is marketed as the ideal place for that perfect sunset photo opportunity on your wedding day. Although it is Greek Orthodox it will also carry out Anglican and Catholic weddings. Great selling point. A brilliant place to get hitched as you can watch the sun go down, all the way, on your single life! I notice that Trip Adviser calls this building delightful; yep, that is about it, in a nutshell. Not that I’m greatly into these things, but if any of our children ever decide to tie the knot, hold it here and I’ll be there.

Speaking of photo opportunities, we walked out to a manmade promontory affording a great view back to Paphos harbour and the fort. Whilst there, we were aware of a couple trying to get the perfect photograph. They asked me if I would be kind enough to take a photo of them in front of the view? How they hadn’t spotted the white stick I’m not quite sure. I held it up to emphasise my situation. I get fed up with people who say there is no such thing as a stupid question. If that’s the case, asking a blind man to take a picture is as close as it gets to stupid. Jane stepped into the breach. She took the photograph, they looked at it, shook their heads, she took it again. Eventually, she got it right, something to do with the fort not quite being in the right position. They returned the favour.

“My husband is a photographer, maybe we should charge you for the picture,” said the woman.

Given how long it took us to get their perfect picture I responded with “I used to be a quantity surveyor, maybe I should charge you for telling you how many bricks you need to block up your mouth to stop that drivel dribbling out.” Of course, the last bit stayed in my head! By the way, I reckon it would be 60, which is one square metre!

Next stop was the aforementioned fort. Wow, not sure that I have been so underwhelmed in my life when it comes to matters military history. As far as I was aware there was only one information board. When one of the write-ups I found suggested it had beautiful views and should be followed up with an ice cream, I think that was about it. Didn’t seem that threatening from a martial point of view. If I was a General looking to take it in times gone by, I think I could have achieved my objectives with half-a-dozen soldiers and a collection of common-or-garden step ladders to effect an escalade. I am sure it has much more potential, after all there has been a sort of fortification there since Byzantine times. Okay, for you history ignoramus out there, including me, when was the Byzantine Empire in existence? Basically, it was a biproduct of the Roman Empire, the Eastern Roman Empire, centred on Constantinople, modern day Istanbul. It really came into its own after the sacking of Rome and, indeed, lasted for nearly a thousand years after that. Cyprus was then owned by a succession of overlords including the Franks, Venetians, Ottomans, and, of course, the British. On the face of it, the entrance fee of €2.50 seemed like extraordinary value for money. When you think, though, all you get is a view, not much good for a blind bloke, and a nose-full of diesel fumes from the marina, it made me think that getting into Canterbury Cathedral, £17.00 per head, seemed like amazing value; at least you get some bloodied swords for your hard earned!

White Cane Ratings
Access: adequate, dodgy stairs for VI - 🦯 🦯 (2)