Travelling easily – I wish

Before I start, I would just like to make it clear that we are very lucky people to be able to have a holiday on a very lovely Greek island.

Having got the disclaimer out of the way, I will start on travelling with the Best Beloved and his disability. He can’t balance well or walk well. Just so you know.

Passenger assistance at Gatwick is great and we are well used to how it works and that makes life so much easier.

I park the BB in the special waiting area, ‘nip’ across the length of the ‘shopping zone’ get him a coffee and wander off to mooch about.

This time, five minutes after I had left him, he phoned me and said, ‘ They’ve offered the asking price.’ 

So, we were off for a week away from house selling stuff and by the time we got to Gatwick, it seems we were done.

( Well, apart from all the stress and hassle of moving, the chance they might change their minds and the little issue of us having nowhere to move to…)

The BB decided it warranted champagne on the flight and the lovely cabin crew leader I had been chatting with and telling her our news, said, ‘Of course.’ 

And then there was a crew panic to find the only (half) bottle stashed away in one of their many tiny lockers. ‘Phew,’ she said.

(BTW champagne drinking is no part of the story of travelling with disabilities.)

At Athens they set up a satellite part of the airport during the tourist season.

It is 1.7km from where you land to the exit.

The BB is pushed in a wheelchair – they do not have the nice electric buggies you find in Gatwick.

I walk with our cases. 

This time there was a shortage of wheelchair pushers so two of them took it in turns to push two chairs at once. And another woman pushed her own husband as she didn’t have cases.

We get to the taxi queue and, having been rejected by two taxi drivers who apparently didn’t want have cripple in their cab, we got a nice, chatty taxi driver to take us to the hotel.

Phew.

We ask at reception if there is anywhere really near at hand where we could go out have a glass and really not walk too far.

The receptionist pulled back one of those anonymous curtains you get in hotels, and pointed at a bar 20 metres away.

Phew.

All was good but the BB was worrying about having enough small notes/change to give to the taxi driver in the morning, whether my alarm would be enough to make sure we didn’t miss the ferry etc etc.

Several glasses of wine calmed him – that and someone playing traditional Greek music.

To the extent he left his wallet on the table and the waiter had to find us to return it….

We left for the port ridiculously early, an instinct I have drilled into the BB over the many years.

When we got there – all of a ten minute taxi drive away – I had planned to walk out of the port to a bakery I had found the year before, and buy breakfast.

But it turned out there were hundreds of people already waiting and geared up and yes, we started boarding almost immediately, an hour before we were due to leave.

And then I found out why.

Unlike previous ferries where the passenger hoard pulls their luggage up the same ramp as the cars, this one required you to take your luggage up a ramp, up one flight of narrow, steep metal stairs and then, indeed another of the same and then find somewhere to put it on a relatively small set of ‘shelves.’

The BB was found, two sticks and a slow walk usually does it, by a member of the crew and taken to the front of the queue and an easier access.

So, he was OK and I didn’t have to worry about him.

Now we don’t go overboard ( excuse the pun) on packing but carrying two suitcases up a narrow, steep staircase was not happening.

So I took one and stashed it. Then I had to fight my way through a mass of people moving ( slowly) upwards with their own cases to get the other one. 

Phew, done it.

Getting off was also interesting.

We know that the crew like to get people off as soon as possible so they can get to the next island.

So, knowing crew and passengers seeing someone with two sticks will be kind, and I could leave him to it, I decided I needed to be ahead of he rush if I had to make two trips down the stairs.

I positioned myself at the top of the internal stairs.

And these were the gentle ones.

I got one case and then realised that the crew member was beckoning us down the next flight of stairs whilst the ship was going at full speed with not much between us and the sea…

Did that twice.

‘Luckily’ we were herded into the disembarking area ( so without another flight of stairs, phew) and told to stay out of the way of cars driving past us – health and safety not entirely gone mad then….

BB made it off.

We got our hire car, but that involves a walk. It might not be much of a walk for you, or me, but for some people, including the BB, it is.

We arrive at Vathy.

One of the charms of Sifnos, ‘our’ Greek island is that the beach villages do not have vehicles. 

You leave your hire car in the free car park and walk. 

With your luggage to be pulled across the sandy beach. 

Luckily Vathy has Manos, a young man with learning difficulties, who is universally known and ‘raised’ by the locals, who has an electric cart and for 10 euros and a slightly repetitive conversation, you can get all your luggage to where you are staying.

Thank you Manos.

It is a three minute walk from where we are staying to the sea – and the BB can swim.

It is admittedly and issue of footwear and balance, getting in and out of the sea using rocks to store a stick and so on, but he manages and that is great.

When we were here last year he had ‘gathered’ a bevvy of young women who would help him out and that definitely alleviated the hassle.

So there are some benefits.

This year it is him on his own, and a bit of me.

Such a nice young man

The Best Beloved took on the daunting (in my view) role of being an independent visitor to someone in care.

He was ‘given’ a Vietnamese ‘boy’, I can’t quite remember but I think he was 14. He was lucky in that he had got fostered by a lovely couple. 

The role of an independent visitor is to be an adult outside the home/fostering system to provide an outlet for the young person.

Bao, needless to say not his real name, was into fishing and the BB and he spent many a visit sitting on a cold beach with a rod and line.

The BB knew and cared nothing about fishing but he made it happen every month.

Bao’s English was not great and he spoke quietly, both a challenge to conversation on a windswept beach.

But both of them carried on.

It is the right of the young person to end the relationship at any time they want and the BB expected that to happen – but it didn’t.

When he reached 18 he was allowed to visit our home.

I was, as you might imagine, slightly apprehensive about this.

I know nothing much about Vietnamese food but I was providing lunch.

I did a risotto – and we were off.

Bao loved risotto, he was really into cooking and food of all sorts.

His English was just great, he wanted to go and collect some wild garlic from the woods near us.

For a small young man, he surprisingly ate most of the risotto whilst we discussed food. The BB just had to sit there and let us get on with it – after all this is a man who can do a mean scramble egg and little else.

Since then, we invite him about three or four times a year.

He tells us how he moved out of foster care (but is still part of their extended foster and ‘natural’ family) to live with a Vietnamese couple and babysit their young child, does nails – not entirely surprisingly – enjoys that, but has also passed his driving  test so he drives himself across Sussex to see us, passed his ‘British test’ tried a course in car maintenance but hated it.

I try to encourage him into something to do with food but he says he doesn’t want to ruin his enjoyment by the drudge of it….. I understand that, but I still think he is missing his calling.

Just last week he was coming to us and I had made a lunch the previous day so I could go into Oxfam in the morning.

I got a message from the BB to say Bao had said he would bring spring rolls.

He and they arrived – all handmade and delicious, along with a salad of all sorts of herbs he had grown, bought from Vietnamese suppliers, rice noodles and a ‘sauce’ of pineapple, fish sauce, chilli and ‘stuff.’

It was delicious and we had such a nice meal and good time with a delightful young cook, who told us about his life what he was up to, and all sorts.

His fishing hobby has turned into making elaborate aquariums with specialist plants, rocks he collects and done with some considerable artistry – and, of course, fish.

There is quite a lot of maintenance involved in all this and, apparently, having a shower timed to make sure the CO2 you are putting in is not on too long – indeed, no I had no idea either.

And no, he doesn’t want this hobby either turned into a job. ‘I will make money so I can enjoy the things I want to.’

Well done the BB and Bao, we are lucky to have him in our lives.