Returning to Bangkok

This time we will look at some of the challenges visually impaired passengers may encounter at an airport, before outlining an attraction or two in the Thai capital.

Now, if you have been to Langkawi, you will be aware that the airport is as delightful an experience as airports can be. We were to take two short hops, going through Kuala Lumpur.

If anything has been Disneyfied, and this is only an opinion, it is KL Airport. I am not a fan of the word surreal. Basically, the prefix sur means second and, in my view, there cannot be such a thing as a second reality, things are either real or false. No in between. My experience going through this airport was as close as I have ever been to surreality. I think a better word would be para-real, sort of meaning nearly real.

As a visually impaired passenger I am provided with assistance at such facilities. All I really want is someone’s shoulder or elbow to hold so that I don’t bump into people or other obstacles, people usually are the biggest obstacles as they don’t stand still, damned inconvenient if you ask me. It strikes me that airports cannot work out what to do with visually impaired clients so, to get over this conundrum, they simply plonk us in a wheelchair.

Don’t get me wrong, I am very grateful for any assistance that comes my way, but I don’t half feel a fraud getting in and out of a wheelchair. In the past I have heard muttering from fellow passengers when they haven’t spotted my white cane, although with many they have no idea what the white stick means. I am sure they believe me to be some eccentric throwback to a time when furloughed army officers, waving ratan canes, would stroll the streets ordering the general riffraff out of their way.

There was one occasion, memory tells me it was at Stansted, that one man was so annoyed at the presence of wheel-chaired passengers that he said, quite loudly, and I am paraphrasing slightly I’m sure, “here come the bloody benefit scroungers!” I did not hear the comment as I do have a tendency to confront these cretins in a deliberate bid to embarrass them. Hats off to him, though, it is an amazing skill to tell whether someone is a benefit scrounger or not purely because they are sitting in a wheelchair.

In my case, I probably don’t do anything to allay these bigots’ invidious thoughts. When I arrive at the departure lounge, I normally hop out of my conveyance, have a bit of a stretch and walk a few steps before sitting down. I am convinced others believe I am much like Matt Lucas’ character in Little Britain, Andy Pipkin, who whenever peoples’ backs were turned would jump out of his trundle-cart and do a little dance, or whatever.

Shocked is not a word adequate enough to describe what happened next. Maybe surreal is as close to the right word as is possible, although I still like the thought of promoting para-real! There we were, strolling through the miles of ways to our gate, Jane ambling alongside with a small-wheeled piece of hand luggage, me with mine on my lap and our assistant merrily pushing my trundle-cart, I love that description, got it when I asked for a synonym of wheelchair. Then, after a wee while, a man appeared to my left, Jane was to my right, looking like he was enjoying a stroll on a lovely summer’s afternoon.

You need to remember that most visually impaired men and women who have been registered as Severely Visually Impaired, blind in old money, are not actually absolutely blind. I am no exception and have a tiny bit of vision in the outer periphery of each eye, so am rewarded with a slight perception of what is going on in the world around me. I thought that the fellow who had just drawn up on my port side bore an uncanny resemblance to the chap who was supposed to be guiding my cart through the throngs of people.

I glanced over both of my shoulders. No-one was pushing me, I was on my own, in a Tesla trundle-cart. My knuckles went white, I am sure, it always feels faster in one of these contrivances than it does walking. I squeezed everything very tight, didn’t want any spillages in case of an accident.

The pusher must have sensed my anxiety as he held out a small remote control and explained that carts were becoming autonomous as some of the passengers were so heavy, the risk of injury to airport staff was a real probability. None taken!

Speaking of throngs of people, as I was, what is it with passengers at airports, some of them just dawdle along with their brains oozing out of their ears, not showing any awareness whatsoever, I nearly wore the occasional one on my knees. Next time, I might turn my white cane into a giant kebab stick and see how many I can skewer before depositing them in the brain bin at the next exit.

We have been to Bangkok previously and are well aware that density of traffic can be a real challenge. We were collected from the airport by our hotel’s chauffeur service, and I have never experienced anything quite as bad as it was on this occasion. What is usually a thirty or so minute drive to our accommodation was, this time, well over an hour. The moral to this tale is do not, under any circumstances, rock up into Bangkok during rush hour, it won’t get you off to the best of starts.

We were staying, for the second time, at the tranquil Ariyasom Villa Hotel, a low-level oasis among the towering high-rise desert dominating the city skyline. It is no less better than the first time we stayed here, and I would thoroughly recommend it to anyone going to the Thai capital.

One thing to remember is, if you are a rampant meat-eater, it only serves vegetarian food. Please don’t be put off by this, it is among the finest non-meat-eating restaurants anywhere in the world. God, there’s me sounding like an authority, which I most certainly am not. It might even be the only place that I have actually eaten vegetarian, but the food is fabulous with a huge choice of dishes.

When one goes to Bangkok there is always the well-known attractions: the temples, the royal palaces and the redlight district, complete with ladyboys which, I hastily point out, Jane and I have been not even close.

Don’t, however, ignore the urban parks, I hardly ever hear of anyone saying to visit these. We took ourselves off to one such botanic delight, Benchakitti Urban Forest Park. What a jewel it turned out to be, only a temple bell ring from the city centre.

The centrepiece, in my view, was the tremendous lake, complete with many and varied water features, with most generous paths around the perimeter, including a most attractive skywalk. What a pleasure it was to see young lovers walking hand in hand. When in Bangkok and all that, Jane and I locked fingers as well. Young, not any longer I am afraid; lovers, of course, although the overriding purpose of us holding hands was to stop me wandering off into the water. Breathing in the surprisingly clean air of this botanic dream was a good way to banish the stress of the previous day’s flying.

The park boasted a museum of the future, a concept I struggle with, even though the definition of museum is a building housing items of a historic, scientific, artistic and cultural nature, so perhaps there is such a thing as a museum of the future, but it was both educational and fascinating in one.

It showed us an overall plan of the city of the future complete with increased green areas and, probably the main goal, of clean canals. Jane explained that I was blind to one of the keepers, more akin to an over-zealous policeman, and asked if I would be able to touch the model to get an idea of what it would be like. He nodded his head which we took as an affirmative of our request and promptly walked away.

I was so impressed that this was made tactile to me. We strolled around to the other side, adjacent to the exit and under the careful eye of our friendly guard. Following Jane’s description of what was in front of me I leaned in for a feel. Crikey, anyone would have thought I had attempted to steal the crown jewels.

The guard seemed to suffer an apoplexy, marching toward us, arms cartwheeling all over the place, gesticulating that I was a dreadful vandal come from the west to undermine the work of the local council. Talk about frightening, we could not understand a single word he shouted at us, spittle flying like a shotgun cartridge exiting a sawn-off, so we quickly made for the outdoors and freedom.

We have no idea what brought about the change of demeanour. The only thing we can think of, having not comprehended Jane’s original request, is that we had got away with it in the beginning. Taxi!

I will leave it there this time with this briefest of offerings. Next time we will visit the old capital of Siam and might even get as far as Chiang Mai, in the cold north.

Find Out More
Ariyasom Villa Hotel: https://www.ariyasomvillahotel.guestreservations.com
Benchakitti Urban Forest Park: https://www.greener.bangkok.go.th

White Cane Ratings
Kuala Lumpur Airport: good, a little Disneyfied - (3)
Ariyasom Villa: very good, attentive staff – (4)
Benchakitti: very good, easily accessible and nearly tactile - (4)