Koh Samui is famous among honeymooners and beachcombers alike, with countless picturesque seaside resorts and restaurants spread between its many harbor villages. Inland from its shores, steep hills covered in dense jungle hide an abundance of natural wonders and ancient respites. Located in the Gulf of Thailand due south from Bangkok, it’s Thailand’s second largest island, about half the size of Phuket — making it the perfect size to scoot around on a moped.
Yup, I’m Gonna Need A Bike
This became apparent before I even got to Samui. As part of my Sandbox quarantine, I flew directly from Phuket on a chartered flight from Bangkok Airways. I got a ride from my friend Mr. Jade (see the Phuket post) to the airport from my hotel on a cloudy Friday morning. As I got in the car, he told me that we had another passenger; a Thai girl returning home to Samui who was sitting in the front seat.
When we got to the airport, she and I were in line together, and we made some light chat. Her name was Blue Sky (“Bai Fa” — everyone has a nickname in Thailand) and she was returning from a month-long vacation in Amsterdam. Even though she was a vaccinated Thai citizen, she had to do a full two-week quarantine in the Sandbox too. She spoke perfect English and was friendly and kind.
We parted ways when I got stuck at the check-in counter (long story), and I got a coffee on my way to the gate once I finally made it through. Arriving at the gate, I noticed her on the other side of a large room, where she waved to me from a café. I waved back and went back to doing my thing, dilly-dallying on my phone or whatever. To my surprise, she showed up a few minutes later and said hi. She had bought me a cappuccino.
We talked a bunch more, exchanging some travel stories and laughing about some of the peculiarities of our respective cultures. She told me about a bar on Koh Samui that she wanted to go to called Coco Tam’s, where they have fire spinning performances every night; I had heard about the same place from a friend and also wanted to go. She said one of her friends had bailed on going that evening.
“I’ll go with you, if you’d like,” I said. She looked a little surprised, but smiled and said sure. (I found her surprise kind of funny, because I saw that one coming from miles away.) “But how will you get there from Chaweng?” she asked. I was staying about a 15-minute drive away, too far to walk.
“I’ll figure it out.” I mean, come on — if a local girl wants me to join her at a bar on the beach, I’m never not going to go. Don’t be ridiculous — you know I’ll find a way.
I had been planning on renting a moped anyway, and from that moment, plan became reality. I got to my hotel and immediately watched a bunch of videos on how to ride a moped, since in Phuket, I ran into issues with the renter when it became obvious that I had no clue what I was doing. All my friends said riding was easy, and the videos agreed. I felt confident after watching a few, and I left for a walk towards town.
A little side-story: on my walk, I grabbed some dinner from an open-air storefront/restaurant, where an old lady had five or six pots of stewy goodness on a counter by the street. She didn’t seem to speak any English, but after an exchange of gestures and inflections, she invited me in to sit at a little table — the only one in the place. She brought over some rice and delicious curry; the one I had pointed at. She brought a second bowl of soup, which I hadn’t meant to ask for, but I’m not complaining — it was superb. I finished both bowls, and she immediately brought me another two. “Aroi jing-jing!” I said, meaning “very delicious!” She laughed and smiled, thanking me. Eventually I finished, very content, and asked her how much (“Ah ni tao rai kaap?”); she responded “fifty baht” (about $1.50). It had been a sizable meal. I love this country.
After the tasty dinner, I continued my walk and stopped in at a shop that rented mopeds. I rented one for six days and paid upfront, about $5 per day. He brought me the bike, which now I felt like I could handle. I hopped on, gingerly started it, and suddenly jolted the throttle (note-to-self: don’t do that), embarrassing myself and losing control instantly. Thankfully, he still rented it to me. I took the scooter to a quiet alley near my hotel to practice riding and got the hang of it after a little while.
As it turns out, riding a moped is, indeed, not too difficult. It’s a lot like riding a bike, just faster — and, you know, not exercise. The only part that took some getting used to was turning, which I slowly learned how to do. One of the videos I watched had a fantastic tip: “turn with your hips, not with your knees” — in other words, don’t redirect your body, but balance it instead. So if you’re ever riding a moped… do that.
I met Blue Sky at Coco Tam’s about an hour later. My first scoot was a success, and I didn’t die.
Kicking back in the sand on a warm tropical night sipping mocktails next to a friendly, fascinating, and (did I mention?) gorgeous girl, I thought about how different my life was than just two weeks before and laughed. What a bizarre and wild ride.
She told me about Thai culture and her life. She was originally from Chiang Rai, a province in the north next to Chiang Mai — where I’ll be living for a few months. When she was growing up, she didn’t know what she wanted to do with her life, but her friends and family suggested that she go to nursing school because they thought she’d be good at it. She did, and she fell in love with the work. Ten years after graduating (if you want to guess her age), she still works as a nurse, now at Koh Samui’s hospital, and she’s lived on the island for two years.
“I have a really great life. I’m really happy!” she said with that characteristic combination of humility and playful excitement that seems to be a trademark of Thai people. I could tell that she really meant it, too.
That’s not to say that Blue Sky had no troubles. She told me she was worried how she was aging; I told her she still looked young. Indeed, even in her early mid-30s (that’s my guess at her age), she looked like a beautiful 20-something. “I think when you’re happy and relaxed, you age better,” she responded. Very true.
“Still,” she said, “I don’t think us Thai girls are very pretty.” I chuckled and simply told her I disagree (since she probably would have been offended if I told her she was insane to ever think such a thing). I still haven’t met a girl here who I didn’t think was beautiful. I can see why she would think that — and I’ve met a few other Thai girls who have expressed similar beliefs — because beauty here is completely different from Western billboard standards, but still. There is a quiet carefulness, peace, kindness, grace, and humility in everyone here, both men and women, that makes them glow with love. It’s the opposite of the in-your-face, over-the-top audacity of Western beauty, but it’s intensely appealing in a completely different way.
For example, another girl I met asked me how I was liking my time here so far. I told her I was loving it and enjoying it so much. She smiled and quietly replied “Thank you for liking Thailand,” as if Thailand was a shy, unpopular friend of hers that she was desperately trying to introduce to good new people. If that isn’t adorable, I don’t know what is. How could anyone not like it here?
Yet in our fast-paced world, this small kingdom of the east doesn’t generally get much recognition. People here really appreciate it when you appreciate Thai culture, which is as rich, nuanced, and vibrant as any. And while it may not be a huge economic or imperial superpower, Thai hospitality is second to none.
I learned that it’s common to ask “have you eaten?” in the place of “how are you?”, and that if the response is “no, I haven’t eaten,” you will then be invited to sit down and eat together. This same sentiment is probably how I ended up on the beach with my new friend, Blue Sky. It was platonic, of course, but still a fantastic time — we talked for nearly three hours, and she showed me some of her favorite places to eat and hang out after we left the bar.
Nonetheless, other than that first evening on Koh Samui, I didn’t hang out with people too much this week. I was reflecting on this the other day, though: Seeing as I’m a foreigner traveling alone in a land that doesn’t speak very much English (and I speak even less Thai), basic social interactions have started to take on a different and more powerful meaning. Simple smiles and conversations with waiters, streetfood vendors, massage therapists, beachgoers, cooks, and clerks are actually quite socially satisfying — just a “Hi, how are you, where are you from? How long are you staying? Welcome!” interaction is both meaningful and gratifying, and I feel neither lonely nor alone.
Hopefully it doesn’t sound too weird, but here’s another story surrounding this. Before coming to Thailand, I had never gotten a massage (at least, not a professional massage) in my entire life. Of course, they’re famous and insanely cheap here, so I got one in Phuket, and I got another today on Koh Samui. The physical touch was similarly very socially gratifying to me. Admittedly, physical touch is one of my love languages, so perhaps that’s not a surprise.
I think what we all desire from our social interactions is to be seen and held in compassion and space by another person. There’s no reason that this can’t happen physically rather than verbally, and being carefully massaged satisfied this same need for me. In the gentleness of the touch, you can feel a loving invitation to relax, breathe, and be happy. Everything is okay, and the person massaging you is here to help you let go of any tension you’re carrying.
I felt a little awkward and uncomfortable during my first massage, but this second one that I had today was incredible. I expressed my deepest gratitude, and my massage therapist was very pleased and grateful to have served me so well.
Anyway, to sum up, being here is like walking in sand. Your feet sink in and you walk a little slower, but it moves with you and matches the contours of your foot, covering it and gently tickling between your toes, reminding you to slow down, breathe, and take in its caress.
Tropical Paradise
In Phuket, I felt like a tourist. In Koh Samui, I feel like a human (for all of the above reasons). There were few other tourists around, and I was mostly spending my time living the good life with locals.
But, seeing as this is a travel blog, I’ll write about some of the sites a bit too. I quickly became a master scooter rider; less than a day after hopping on for the first time, I felt completely confident to drive long distances around the island, helping me get to all sorts of magnificent places.
The way I see it, Samui has, essentially, two types of attractions. The first is beach resorts. While Phuket had tons of public beaches, it seems like on Koh Samui, the majority of beaches are private. It’s not the kind of place where you just “go to the beach.” Instead, you eat at a restaurant on the beach, or you stay at a hotel that has a private beachfront. I found it remarkably difficult to find a public beach to chill on, actually. To be honest, Phuket’s beaches were prettier anyway, with their crystal clear water and clean, uniform sand. The ones on Samui were a little dirtier, and the water a little more opaque.
Instead, the commercial spots along the beaches are very nice here. The chairs, spas, pools, restaurants, tables — you name it — they all have spectacular views over the water. Dozens of neighboring islands dot a majestic horizon, no matter where you are on the island. It’s a great place to just sit back and watch the water rather than swim in it, necessarily.
The other type of attraction is, of course, all the nature stuff, which is what put Koh Samui on the map in the first place. While here, I hiked to a waterfall in the middle of the jungle. I had been planning on going to the beach that day, but when I saw the beautiful pools in the middle of a clearing, I just hopped in instead. Few tourists are on Samui now, and I had the entire waterfall to myself. It was very peaceful, and I relaxed in the refreshingly cool water, listening to the birds around me.
On another day, I swam in another waterfall, this one much bigger. It was similarly a great experience. There’s something wonderful about swimming in a waterfall pool rather than just going to the beach. It feels a little more adventurous and wild, or something like that — a little more connected with nature, perhaps.
The island is famous for some of its rock formations, particularly along the southeast coast and around the village of Lamai. I went to the Valentine Stone, a nice heart-shaped rock, and to Hin Ta and Hin Yai rocks — grandfather and grandmother’s rocks. These are unapologetically shaped like male and female genitalia, and some of the tourists posing for pictures had some pretty hilarious, irreverent ideas. It was all in good fun.
Behind Hin Ta and Hin Yai, there was a quiet little tidal lagoon shaped out by some more rocks. I decided to go for a short swim in it. As I sat still, fish would swim right up to me, and I would watch them from above the surface through the crystal clear water. Some nearby fishermen cast their lines into the ocean and patiently waited for the same.
After a terrifyingly steep moped ride up a hilly unmarked road, I came to the Overlap Stone, a lesser known spot with a fantastic view. Staring at the vastness beside me, I felt a sort of cosmic oneness, like when you know you’re exactly where you’re meant to be. It felt immensely significant and personal, although what the significance was, I cannot claim to know. That’s my life, in a nutshell.
Deep in the island’s central hills, I found my way to the Secret Buddha Garden. It appeared like something out of a fairy tale. Abandoned stone buildings were covered in moss, and statues of children, Buddhas, workers, and animals were everywhere, like a little dwarf village. A creek and waterfall ran down the center. It was serene and mystical.
Last but not least (and I’ve described these in a completely different order than I visited them in), on the northwest corner of the island, I trekked to the Monk’s Cave after a delicious meal of Panang curry at a secluded, remote beachside restaurant. Maybe it was because of the high tide, or maybe it’s always like this, but to get to the cave, I had to do some scrambling across steep rocks in my sandals. It was a little dicey at times, but I’m young enough to not really care. I made it without too much issue.
The Monk’s Cave was a real treat. I’ve visited several Buddhist temples on my trip so far, but none were this isolated. Completely alone, I sat next to the Buddha statue and meditated for a while, as I had attempted (but felt rather awkward with people around) at some of the other temples. Listening to the sound of waves, I returned to a grounding, tranquil presence while meditating with Buddha; refuge, protector, inspiration, trailblazer, and tagatha (“one who has gone beyond”). Ironically, as I got up to leave, I saw some people at the entryway who had been politely waiting for me to finish before entering.
I guess I left out a third type of attraction; really, everything else. This included more Buddhist temples — I especially loved Wat Plai Laem — and the quaint Fisherman’s Village of Bophut, with a long, narrow street running down it, old and weathered buildings on both sides.
Sadly, so much is closed right now. In Chaweng Beach, the most touristy part of the island, there is a multiple-mile long stretch of road where virtually nothing is open at all. Similarly, almost all the storefronts in the Fisherman’s Village are closed. Lockdown has been hard here, but it’s coming to an end — while I was here, Samui opened itself to fully vaccinated tourists on October 1st with much more lax quarantine and testing rules. They are hoping tourism picks up again soon, with the high season around the corner.
Instead, if you want to find the stuff that’s open, just go where the locals go! I enjoyed unbelievably delicious streetfood at the Bangrak night market a few times, and a long stretch of shops in another part of Chaweng was almost entirely open, where I ate another few times.
According to Blue Sky, a lot of Thais are coming down to visit the islands these days because the tourists are all gone, and everything is cheaper. Usually, it’s much more expensive, but with so little business, prices have come way down. I’m pretty sure I was one of two guests in my entire hotel. My fancypants room ordinarily would have cost somewhere around $150 per night; during these times, though, I paid around $25 per night.
It’s weird for it to be so empty. I like the space and quiet this affords, but I feel sad for the local business and shop owners. I imagine they must be struggling, and I want to help them as much as I can. At the very least, I’m extremely grateful for the opportunity to be here, and I’ve enjoyed my stay very much.
Tomorrow, I am officially finished with quarantine! On my way to Chiang Mai, I was going to have a layover in Bangkok pretty much no matter what flight I got, so I decided to spend a few days there. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I especially want to go out and enjoy the nightlife — the next few days might hold some pretty crazy stories, who knows. Either that, or everything will be closed. We’re going to see.
Wherever you are, I hope you feel connected to your community and grateful for the opportunities and abundance around you. May you live well, happily, and prosper.
With peace & love,
Andrew
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Don’t count out the beaches in Koh Samui. From what I remember, I think the Andaman and Gulf of Thailand tend to be opposite seasonal spots. Part of the year, the beaches are better on one side, part of the year the other from the weather. Although the Andaman is pretty kick ass and haven’t been to Koh Samui. After your quarantine, I hope you get time to check out the limestone cliff islands and Koh Phi Phi while you are in the area back on the Andaman side, Sir Christopher “Scaramanga” Lee had his cliff cave fortress over there!
Turkey was the same way. I think with fewer tourists around, the local Turks really stuck out in the touristy areas to the point where they almost were replacing foreigners one for one and kept everything vibrant.
If Khaosan Rd is empty in Bangkok, then Thailand will REALLY be struggling. I trust you’ll find some vibrant crowds and active nightlife there.
Interesting – that makes a lot of sense, actually. Both islands seem very beautiful in their own ways! The Andaman did really WOW me for sure.
Bangkok had a 10 pm city-wide curfew while I was there, so nightlife was pretty nonexistent. I didn’t go to Khaosan Road, though, so I can’t comment on the liveliness there. Sukhumvit and Si Lom were both very empty, but there were tons of people in the giant malls, especially in Siam.