Koh Samui Back in the halcyon days of the 1960's, there were no Lonely Planets to guide the trickle of adventurers travelling overland between Europe and Asia. Unlike today's pampered and ubiquitous backpackers, yesterday's intrepid young explorers had to rely on word of mouth advice about the route lying ahead. Amongst other essentials, this included "approved" lodgings, where kindred spirits globe-trotting in opposite directions congregated, and exchanged information about rutted roads already endured.
One such hostelry was the legendary Thai Song Greet Hotel, (alas, gone forever) near Bangkok's central Hualumpong railway station. At 20 baht (then worth US$1) a night, it was still considered "expensive" for it had grimy rooms, and guests shared a small, smelly toilet-cum-bathroom at the end of each cluttered and humid corridor. Those who could not afford the hotel's dubious luxury nevertheless came here to obtain that precious intelligence essential for their onward journey.
If Koh Samui is well known today, the first reverent mention of the name was most likely heard in the packed downstairs restaurant of that dirty but charismatic tryst. Amongst the pungent smoke billowing from the cook's wok, word frequently passed around about an idyllic island in the south east of Thailand, very difficult to reach, a place with only walking tracks, and as close to being paradise as Mother Earth can possibly provide. Furthermore, this was no tiny islet, but a large and mountainous tropical haven with rushing streams, thick forests, and dozens of deserted pristine palm-fringed beaches, the stuff of dreams and fantasy.
Born therefore - like so many other resorts - of backpackers' private discoveries, Samui forty years on boasts a network of roads, an entire tourism infrastructure, and almost-hourly flights landing at the picturesque airport. If purists might lament this transformation, the island nonetheless retains much of its magic, and international tourism has done little so far to mar the intrinsic tropical beauty. Development has affected mostly the coastal areas, and much of the mountainous interior remains untouched. Up here, the friendly inhabitants carry on their lives cultivating coconuts, banana, durian and paddy just as before, accepting sun-lotioned foreigners as an inevitable result of progress, like telephones and television.
Today, plump middle-aged codgers, who, as slim pimply-faced youths might have lounged under Samui's swaying palms in 1962, can still relive that lost island feeling today, albeit with luxury hotels and the conveniences of the 21st century all around, and the sense of real adventure long since gone.
Roughly 250 square kilometres in size, and rising to a height of 635 metres, this rugged granite island is almost the size of Penang, and Thailand's third largest after Phuket and Ko Chang. ("Koh"is Thai for island) Settled originally by Malaysian and Chinese fishermen, it is thought that the name Samui derives from the Chinese word Saboey, meaning safe harbour. Less developed than Phuket, it boasts its own distinct personality, and the proud native population of around 50,000 speaks its own distinctive southern dialect.
It has an enjoyable but often unpredictable mix of tropical weather conditions, the sunniest months falling between January and August, with occasional refreshing downpours. More frequent rainstorms arrive in September/October, lasting through to December. The hottest months are from March to June. The sea temperature averages 29 degrees Celsius year round.
One such hostelry was the legendary Thai Song Greet Hotel, (alas, gone forever) near Bangkok's central Hualumpong railway station. At 20 baht (then worth US$1) a night, it was still considered "expensive" for it had grimy rooms, and guests shared a small, smelly toilet-cum-bathroom at the end of each cluttered and humid corridor. Those who could not afford the hotel's dubious luxury nevertheless came here to obtain that precious intelligence essential for their onward journey.
If Koh Samui is well known today, the first reverent mention of the name was most likely heard in the packed downstairs restaurant of that dirty but charismatic tryst. Amongst the pungent smoke billowing from the cook's wok, word frequently passed around about an idyllic island in the south east of Thailand, very difficult to reach, a place with only walking tracks, and as close to being paradise as Mother Earth can possibly provide. Furthermore, this was no tiny islet, but a large and mountainous tropical haven with rushing streams, thick forests, and dozens of deserted pristine palm-fringed beaches, the stuff of dreams and fantasy.
Born therefore - like so many other resorts - of backpackers' private discoveries, Samui forty years on boasts a network of roads, an entire tourism infrastructure, and almost-hourly flights landing at the picturesque airport. If purists might lament this transformation, the island nonetheless retains much of its magic, and international tourism has done little so far to mar the intrinsic tropical beauty. Development has affected mostly the coastal areas, and much of the mountainous interior remains untouched. Up here, the friendly inhabitants carry on their lives cultivating coconuts, banana, durian and paddy just as before, accepting sun-lotioned foreigners as an inevitable result of progress, like telephones and television.
Today, plump middle-aged codgers, who, as slim pimply-faced youths might have lounged under Samui's swaying palms in 1962, can still relive that lost island feeling today, albeit with luxury hotels and the conveniences of the 21st century all around, and the sense of real adventure long since gone.
Roughly 250 square kilometres in size, and rising to a height of 635 metres, this rugged granite island is almost the size of Penang, and Thailand's third largest after Phuket and Ko Chang. ("Koh"is Thai for island) Settled originally by Malaysian and Chinese fishermen, it is thought that the name Samui derives from the Chinese word Saboey, meaning safe harbour. Less developed than Phuket, it boasts its own distinct personality, and the proud native population of around 50,000 speaks its own distinctive southern dialect.
It has an enjoyable but often unpredictable mix of tropical weather conditions, the sunniest months falling between January and August, with occasional refreshing downpours. More frequent rainstorms arrive in September/October, lasting through to December. The hottest months are from March to June. The sea temperature averages 29 degrees Celsius year round.
