Ko Tao: An Interesting Journey...

Following our interesting stay in Bangkok, we were headed for the island of Ko Tao, situated as it is, in the Chumphon Archipelago. The journey there became an adventure on its own, so this week and next week we will look at that journey. Shall we say, it became a little fraught.

Getting to Ko Tao, one would have thought, should be as straightforward as anything we have managed on the trip to date. After all, it is only about an hour’s flight. You will recall, though, from an earlier episode my concerns about the airline, Bangkok Air, with whom, on this day, we were to be taking our inaugural flight of the trip. Thus far, they had been an enigma. Neither us nor our travel provider could get hold of them to pre-book our seats. Did they actually exist?

Exist they did. And, I have to say, they were absolutely wonderful. Right from the time we left the airport lounge, which, to be fair, that bit was probably down to Bangkok Airport, right through until boarding, the service was magnificent. From the moment we were handed into the care of the cabin crew, it felt like we were the most important passengers they had ever welcomed onto their aircraft. They immediately spotted my white cane, guided me to my seat and went above and beyond in their treatment of me. Jane didn’t have to lift a finger to assist me; just sit back and enjoy her champagne.

I received a personalised safety briefing, which I now understand is the minimum requirement from every airline when transporting visually impaired and blind people. Food and drinks were brought to my seat, placed on my tray with each item pointed out to me by picking up my hand to indicate the placement of each piece. If you are sighted, which most are, you probably cannot even imagine how mega-important such gestures are to the VI world. Sit back and enjoy the flight.

Arriving into Samui Airport was one of those delights that have nearly been erased from modern life. To start with we were greeted by the old fashioned motorised staircase, welcoming us to this particular paradise. The corridors that linked Arrivals to border control and baggage reclaim were all outside under cover. I have never seen another airport like it in my limited travel experiences. Our dedicated transport was awaiting our arrival. It was all running extremely smoothly. This was going to be a fantastic week of supreme relaxation.

The ferry terminal was like stepping off our cosseted business class carousel into the uncertain world of coach. There were no airport assistants to move me safely from one point to another. The waiting area was not filled with comfortable sofas, set on a carpeted floor, bottomless pots of coffee and complimentary food. Air conditioning was afforded merely by providing a concrete shelter without walls. Indeed, had it been constructed with walls it would have been a barn.

We had been handed a voucher to obtain our tickets with no word of explanation and no-one to ask. The floor was formed by a concrete slab, it was power-floated in a nod to comfort, the chairs were of the plastic garden variety, although I think that is doing a disservice to most garden furniture, and the company was of the backpacker variety.

There were about a hundred vacant chairs, so we selected a couple as far away from the backpacking throng as possible. I leaned back but the chair nearly doubled over with the challenge, so I leaned forward with my elbows resting on my knees. Why is it that when there are so many vacant chairs the only oddball in the building makes a beeline for me and takes the seat right next to me. I wondered if, under the circumstances, it was because I also had oddball written on my forehead? Maybe carrying a white stick in the oddball world is some sort of identification. We weren’t drinking from tins, nor were we smoking or vaping, or farting or belching and, what is more, we had, at least, washed at the start of the day.

We had nearly four hours to wait for the ferry. Oddball was making all sorts of noises: grunts, sniffs, coughs, among many other unidentifiable sounds. This was not the luxury travel we had signed up to! Four hours to wait. That was if the ferry departed on time. It didn’t.

It was nearly two hours late when we unhooked the mooring ropes and slid out into the open sea of the Gulf of Thailand. The other passengers, all young enough to be our grandchildren, technically at any rate, were excitable to say the least. It was as if we were wallowing waist deep in alcohol and drug infused testosterone and oestrogen. Giggling girls were quite explicit in what they were going to do with certain boys. All the boys were going to get laid within half-an-hour of disembarking. Oh, the confidence of youth!

By the time we pulled alongside in Ko Tao it was dark. Lighting was extremely poor and Jane struggled to navigate the cases along the, what felt to me, treacherous route to the pick-up point. In addition, she needed to assist me. She was about two hands and arms short. Not a single member of staff came forward to help. It was left to a delightful young couple, she, I think, was pregnant, who took our cases to the end of the pier which allowed Jane to guide me. When we arrived we stood back to let everyone make their arrangements for onward journeys. Nobody was sporting a sign with “Taylor” written on it.

Next time, you will see how our relationship was bent to its limit, maybe even slightly broken!

Aphrodite and Adonis in Paphos

The visit to the Fort had not filled me with excitement about our planned excursions to the Paphos Archaeological Park and the Tombs of the Kings.

When we visited these two attractions in 2010 I think it is safe to say, they did not hit the spot.

I recall in the former, in particular, that excavations were still ongoing and that we could wander around the site without restriction. If it was to be the same this time around, my vision has definitely worsened, I could see me pivoting forward into one of the holes. The latter, as I recall, was a series of manmade caves cut into the rock where kings were laid to rest. How wrong I was. Both sites were absolutely splendid and worth every cent of the entrance money, probably more!

The Park was full of information, right through from the welcoming visitor centre through to the amazing exhibitions of incredibly well preserved floor mosaics. When you think how we at this same time in, technically, pre-history, were trying to work out what the best type of reeds were to cover our mud floors, the Hellenistic people were selecting floor coverings with breathtaking patterns, to grace their exquisite homes.

Some of these mosaics were now protected from the elements by the erection of structural coverings. The Houses of Dionysos, Aion, Theseus and Orpheus are, at present, the best examples of these.

One thing was for sure, my knowledge of Greek mythology was improving every day.

One deity who stands out, above all others in these parts, is Aphrodite. I know she is the goddess of love and, it appears, that she had a voracious appetite in that department. I think she was the sort of girl our mothers would have told us to steer clear of. I think she was the sort of girl that most of us boys could not wait to meet!

I love the story of how she met Adonis. Bear in mind that she was a Goddess, love, lust (not sure which of these virtues was top of her list?), beauty, pleasure and procreation, and she was married to a bloke called Hephaestus, himself a God, of fire and metalworking.

It appears that dear old Heph may have spent too much time poking around in his forge. His wife, it appears, had a bit of a wandering eye. She had taken many lovers, most of whom seem to have been Gods themselves. Then, one day, she was walking in the beautiful Cypriot countryside when she chanced across a pool. A local shepherd boy, Adonis, in a bid to cool off, had stripped down to his birthday suit and jumped in. She was so smitten with what she saw that she hopped in as well, as you do, and the rest, as they say, is history.

I can just see shepherd boys up and down the country tethering their sheep on the village green, before taking a dip in the village pond. What I don’t understand, is that if Heph was such a dab-hand with a forge, hammer and anvil, why on earth did he not produce a chastity belt.

Adonis got his comeuppance in the end, though, he was killed by a wild boar. Umm! I wonder how well that one was investigated by the God police.

When I was looking some of this stuff up I found a section called: ‘Facts About Greek Mythology.’ I’ll just leave that one with you!

Next week we shall finish off in the PAP (an unfortunate acronym) and visit the Tombs of the Kings which, you will find, are anything but.