I'd always imagined that Koh Samui would be this amazing island paradise untouched for the most part by Westerners and tourism, with pristine beaches and friendly locals welcoming you to their street stalls. Indeed, on the ferry over from the mainland, the blue silhouettes of distant islands were like hands beckoning us over to their sandy shores. However I quickly discovered how naive my preconceptions were, and also how tarnished the island really was.

In reality, it is really only an overdeveloped Western tourist trap. I don't know where I would begin pointing out all the ways it has fallen short of my expectations, but it's somewhat of a disgusting destination. Our first impressions of it weren't very favourable either: we arrived at our hostel greeted by a tattooed man from Liverpool, and the first thing he asked us if we wanted any mushrooms or cocaine. He was definitely on something himself (he later found out it was meth), as his eyes were unnaturally dilated, and his colleague, a young man from Colombia, started telling us about where all the best cocaine could be had in the world. At one point, when Colombian Dude was taking out the money box, Liverpool Dude suddenly snapped and said "Get away from the counter! You'll have yourself fucking arrested!"

Our confusion wasn't to end there though. When we entered the shitty complex of houses that made up our hostel, we found out that there were people smoking something funky in the kitchen, and when we got to our rooms all the bedcovers were covered in a well-concocted brew of mould, cobwebs, and bodily fluids. There was no resistance given by the springs in the mattress, and even by normal hostel standards it was atrocious.

We met the owner, a stocky Californian, later when he invited us to dinner with him and then to a local Thai boxing bout. He seemed to really love the island, and said that it was his favourite place in the world. Indeed, he seemed pretty trustworthy at first, perhaps because he was a Westerner, but Thailand had us fooled again. First, we saw the demographic for what it really was: sad, middle-aged white men who kept ogling Thai girls in their short shorts or cradling them in their arms. Smoking and leering, they seemed like the kind of guys who couldn't get girls back in their home countries. Probably the most disappointing thing was that they thought this was actually some sort of paradise where they could live for cheap and they could use their currency to purchase some semblance of intimacy.

The shops and restaurants were targeted to this demographic; it was the norm to see Irish pubs, a drugstore called the "Aussie Pharmacy", and your standard concentration of fake watches and make-up and sunglasses. If there was any of the island's unique character left, then it kept itself well-hidden. Otherwise it is just another outpost of the 21st century form of Western colonisation.

The party scene isn't much better. We could enjoy ourselves, but the price for fun was having lady-boys and protitutes constantly coming up to grind against you. It was as if they were so attuned to the clientele that normally patronise the clubs. It also caused us to hurl some aggressiveness against each other--we weren't immune to that. I would chalk it up to lack of sleep. Even being followed around by stray dogs and homesless people probably contributed to it. The nightlife was so wearing that on our last night on the island, we actually decided to forgo partying, and ended up having a relaxed night of local food in the markets accompanied by some killer fruit smoothies.

That said, there were always great times that were had with the boys. One particular highlight was being in an upscale club right next to the beach. The music was playing down and the bar was closing up when Lenny betted Michael to jump into a fenced off pool. In a blink just long enough for Mikey to discard his clothes, he leapt past the rope and into the water, before sprinting away into what he must have supposed was the cover of darkness.

His escape was short-lived. Security awaited him patiently at the other end of his escape route, and it wasn't long before Mikey found himself dripping in his underwear, with security holding his wrists behind him, explaining himself. Mikey was about to cost us another 2000 baht in fines (AUD 80), but we managed to talk ourselves out of any penalty, and Mikey was saved again for future dumb bets.

Our love affair with pools was to be repeated the next night, around the same time the same club closed. Feeling cheeky, we walked a few hundred meters down the dark beach, and found a resort right on the edge. There was an infinity pool that sat facing the ocean, and breaking into it was no hard feat. It wasn't long before we had all jumped fully naked into the pitch-dark pool, and enjoying a few cold beers courtesy of the poorly secured bar fridge.

No pool adventure escapes unpunished however. Perhaps it was because of our laughter, but we were soon holding our breaths underwater as a torchbeam pierced the surface of the water and sought us out like a searchlight. No longer able to hold our breaths, we resurfaced to find the silhouette of a man shining his light on us, and we scurried back onto the beach hastily collecting our clothes, running naked on the sand looking for our next refuge.

There were beautiful moments during the day where I was back where I belonged in summer: right next to the water. The long stretch of tourist resorts lay along Chaweng Beach, which I suppose was nice enough. But it withered in comparison to the sanctuary of Silver Beach. It was much smaller, and tucked away in a little cove where those who can properly afford an island holiday stayed. That place would have been my definition of an island paradise.

It was surrounded by large granite blocks that guarded it from the plebs (which Lenny and Jakob tried to climb and return covered in malaria), and there were no hawkers along the beach trying to sell cheap trinkets and the like. The feathers of clouds above were only matched by the clouds of fine sand that you would kick up in the clear, emerald water. You could swim a hundred metres out and the water would still only be waist deep, inviting you to lie on your back and just let the clouds and your worries drift away from you. Like some sort of aquatic balm, it cooled and calmed you, and if ever I would return to Koh Samui it would be because of places like these.

We repeated the pattern at night, where we found another beach resort we could crash. We rested on the rattan recliners, catching glimpses of shooting stars and breaching subjects that we wouldn't have discussed three years ago. It was at times like this that the magic of life would touch you, without the need for drugs or drink, and you would be raised to another level of sublime experience. It is impossible to describe the feeling without making myself out to be a dreadlocked hippie, but perhaps it is the same type of peace you get from listening to a great piece of music, or cracking open a cold soda after being parched for hours, but magnified tenfold. It was marvellous.

Overall, despite bad first impressions and not being what we had envisaged (and despite Lenny and Jakob sacrificing their bodies to malaria research), we took what we could out of the island, and what we got was a remarkable time with great people, great places, and great experiences. We were also graciously blessed with plenty of sunshine the whole time we were there. Koh Samui is not a bad place at all if you can afford being away from the backpackers and the repellent hoi polloi. There is a world-class marine national park nearby which a thick wallet can easily get you to. You can buy comfort and serenity in a secluded corner of the island where the trees grow thick and tall and the food costs literally ten times as much. But if you're in the company of beautiful friends or a beautiful woman, then I would do it again with no hesitation.





Postscript:

Almost a big part of the thrill of travelling is the joy of discovery. It's being in the right places before everyone else finds out about it. Everyone has been to and seen the Eiffel Tower or Buckingham Palace, but imagine being the only people in a secret beach that is yet unmapped. And the thing is that these places can't be planned for, or you can't find companies that will take you there. You have to be touched by luck, or by word of mouth. And while there will always be questions about the inevitable human impact analogous with discoveries, it is still the impetus that keeps us hoisting our packs in search of adventures unseen and unheard.