Travel Changes

Primarily about Koh Samui - This is my longest piece to date and your email may truncate (gmail in particular) - look for the "View entire message" if your message is truncated.

Travel… tourism….. discovering new places….

Before starting, I fully understand that my perspective on how things used to be has been repeated since Ibn Battuta and Marco Polo began their travels. This is just the perspective of a baby boomer who got to see a few things that are no longer there.

It’s 2025 - Comino and it’s Blue Lagoon in the Maltese Islands is now restricted to limited visitors - Entrance fees are paid to visit Venice - Limits on Acropolis visitors each day - Bhutan’s limit on visa counts. Is it still an adventure when we wait in the queue?

All of the above are a result of the millions of humans who want to visit the wonders of our planet and the communities we have built upon her. Travel continues to become simpler and cheaper, so more and more people are involved and almost all destinations are available.

The other morning, I read an article on the online BBC link regarding exotic TV and film locations directly boosting tourism in real time. Their prime example was the recently released season 3 of White Lotus which was set at the Four Seasons Hotel in Koh Samui, Thailand.

I have been lucky enough to have started world wide travel in the summer of 1969. And it turned out that it would become the palette I got to use to paint my career story and then during vacations, push it even further. And the one possible glory of international travel is that regardless of what you have seen and where you have been, there is always another destination that will stretch your understanding.

While not my path, I had several friends who traveled the trail in the late 60’s and 70’s when you could live in countries we can no longer even enter. Living in Kabul, Tehran, all the amazing spots along the western edge of the Silk Road. Simple treks the length of South America and beach life in Southeast Asia.

Over those 56 years since 1969, there have been a lot of changes. You no longer have to queue up at American Express or a hotel to make a call to the US. In Europe, you don’t have to carry around a half dozen different currencies at the same time. A section of your hand-carry is no longer brimming with maps and directions to locations. You can buy almost any cuisine in any major city worldwide. And I am unsure if any of those are actually improvements.

Outside of very remote, third-world locations, much of the mystery is gone. The trappings, flora, fauna, and people are still in place, and their culture is still unique and different, but thanks to social media and the internet, a well-researched trip will provide few surprises.

After waiting through years of civil war and frequent coup d’etats, Maria and I were lucky enough to be early visitors to Cambodia in the late 90’s. In Siem Reap, there was only one hotel, the colonial era classic, The Grand. Far beyond our budget or interest range. We stayed in a local guest house and loved our six day stay. Angkor Wat was frequently deserted and the outlying temples were our private treats on most visits.

We returned eight years later… and things had changed. There were hotels on every corner, tourist shops everywhere and it was now a location. The magic remains, but the experience was far different. And that trip was 19 years ago, so I cannot imagine what it is like today.

Koh Samui where I spent a month in Dec ‘83 and Jan ‘84 was a unique tale for me. It was far removed from the island as it exists today. And the only thing the island presented on White Orchid shared with my journey was the local love of Muay Thai.

Today, there are dozens of five-star resorts, and all the major American and European deluxe chains are represented. You fly in and fly out with all the deluxe touches of resort life easily at hand.

NOTE: This is not meant to disparage luxury hotels. I have enjoyed staying in 5-star properties in urban and resort environments. This is just a reflection on what has been and what has changed. And for me, a rumination on what a rare, yet noteworthy journey can mean to a person.

Mr White’s production team chose well by selecting the Four Seasons Koh Samui. It is in the slightly peninsular NW corner of the island and, thus, a good place for principal shooting as it is a bit removed from other properties. But, oh the changes between the island and the “Samui Folk” that I got to know 41 years earlier.

Cut back to the Christmas season of 1983. I was in Hong Kong, part of an A-level production team brought in for a Christmas special being done by Teresa Carpio. She was a superstar in Hong Kong and the Far East. In fact, she was the first Chinese entertainer to appear on Japanese TV. Teresa was a Chinese/Filipino singer and presenter from a multi-generational music family. These Christmas spectaculars were also the opening shows at the new arena, the Hong Kong Coliseum.

My friend Jerry Levin had been approached by Teresa’s husband, Peter Mui who was a successful trader, designer and businessman. He had Jerry put together a design, production and support team that would allow this show to rival anything done in the States or Europe.

Some team members were in Hong Kong for more than a month, but my duties had me headed to Hong Kong for about a two week stay. We were putting the shows together in a virginal arena which is always a challenge. Maybe I can do a long treatise on that stay at another time.

My next tour was with David Sanborn in Japan at the end of January, so I had decided to stay in Asia for that time and was currently planning to just wander around and explore Thailand.

Prior to 1998 one landed in Hong Kong via Kai Tak airport which literally banked your flight in through Kowloon, landing on a peninsula built out into the harbor. During landing you could watch folks hanging their washing out on their balcony, not all that many meters from the wingtips.

We were ensconced at the spectacular Peninsula Hotel, another colonial classic with full luxury in every corner. She was the queen of the promontory facing Hong Kong Island, an ideal position near the Kowloon piers for the ferry system that connected the mainland to the island.

The hotel lobby bar at the Peninsula was a gathering spot for upper class “gweilo” (Cantonese for white devil) and since our crew did not look like the typical posh businessmen, the bar manager had provided us tables in the far back corner for our drinks when we returned from the venue.

One evening a workmate brought over two women to join the entourage. Like most of us, they were in their thirties and widely traveled. Jane was American and Pam was Australian. They both worked in academia as adjunct professors in Asian studies and were currently on holiday.

The hard reality was they were cruising the bar at a posh hotel hoping for a long shower as their flat was under water rationing. Folks in our squad, gladly gave them access to a long shower and they became kind of regulars in our group (and they had great connections for non legal substances).

When they found out I was to be floating free for a month, they told me to forget the wandering and to go and spend my time on Koh Samui. Both had been travelers on the hippie trail I mentioned earlier and they insisted that in all their journeying, there was nothing quite like time spent on Koh Samui (which none of us had ever heard of before).

Back then, Phuket with the Ao Phang Nga islands and Pattaya were the known, hip beach stops if heading to Thailand. Pattaya was a short hop from Bangkok and Phuket was down the peninsula towards Malaysia and sitting on the west coast, facing towards the Bay of Bengal and India. Koh Samui was not on any tourist list at this time.

Jane and I became more than shower buddies and she discreetly shared that she and Pam also worked in moving items internationally without full governmental inspection (so to say).

The more they told me, the more fascinated I became. Primarily a small fishing supported island with a bit of agriculture inland, the “Samui Folk” had several beaches on the eastern coast that had small bungalow groupings, family owned, that sat just above high tide. There was easy access to Thai grass, magic mushrooms growing on the island and in addition to beach combing there were multiple waterfalls throughout the island’s interior. Some on long, jungle like trails.

They advised that I would be one of the few, if any Americans on the island as most of the visitors were European or Australian. No television, no newspapers, no contact with the outer world. Just a spot where one could sink into a gentle paradise and see what you might find. They giggled a bit about sending someone they met at the Peninsula Hotel off to Koh Samui, promising it would be nothing like the 5 star luxury I was comfortably experiencing in Hong Kong. One night Jane whispered to me, “But we do believe that if anyone in your gang is game for this, you might be the one.”

They warned that travel from Bangkok was a bit of a gruel, with a minimum 12 hour train ride down the peninsula to Surat Thani, then a two hour bus ride over to Don Sak where one caught the fast boat to the arrival pier of Na Thon. The fast boat was a two hour ride. And they suggested I avoid the slower boat running closer to seven or eight out of Surat Thani. Their last piece of advice was to take a good flashlight and plenty of batteries for anything that needed them as the shopkeepers in Na Thon charged a fortune.

I had made up my mind. After we loaded out of our Christmas extravaganza, I flew to Bangkok with Blue Johnson, a good friend who I had toured with on Al Jarreau and this project. Blue was already deeply familiar with Thailand from R&R during the Vietnam War and he soon moved to Thailand full-time. He had close friends to visit so our time together was limited to a very unique night in Bangkok before we parted and moved in different directions.

After waking in the late morning, I made my way to Krung Thep Aphiwat Central Train Terminal, naively thinking I would get myself a nice, 1st Class sleeper ticket down to Surat Thani.

Naive, because I was attempting this in between Christmas and New Years. And while Thailand is a Buddhist country, both holidays are acknowledged and are happy time for families. First and Second class tickets were sold out and I had to wait until an evening departure to finally cadge a third class seat, which was sharing a skinny bench with three other people. At 6’ 3”, I was not only the only farang in the section, I was huge and a bit out of synch to my fellow travelers. I had stored my suitcase with the hotel bellman to retrieve on my way back to Japan, but even the backpack and shoulder bag I carried were a bit much as well. I shrunk myself as best I could.

A few hours after departure, folks started sleeping, spreading out newspaper, first on the floor under the benches, then leaning on each other on the benches and finally in the aisles. Some Thai lads invited me to join them between the rail cars to drink Mekhong Whiskey. They spoke some pretty basic English and tried to teach me some Thai slang to expand the little conversation booklet I had bought at Kai Tak when departing Hong Kong.

After about two hours of that silliness, I headed back to my seat, clumsily tiptoeing between the sleeping bodies on the floor. Upon arrival, I found no room on my bench and stood there for a while, balancing myself with my hands on the overhead racks. Suddenly, the older woman who had been a seat mate sat up and woke her neighbor. They squeezed together and with open smiles, gestured for me to take the space by the window (again, tiptoeing around bodies on the floor). With the help of the Mekhong, I fell asleep quickly and got a bit of sleep before dawn came calling.

That morning was amazing! I watched this packed car come alive. People had laid out newspaper to sleep on when lying on the floor. It was gathered up and wadded into balls by the windows. Folks found their toothpaste and face flannels and visited the loos at each end of the car.

We pulled into a station where a few got on and a few got off. With windows opened, all the trash was handed out to vendors on the siding who were selling cups of tea, cold drinks, breakfast muffins etc. It was chaotic and orderly at that same time and I just marvelled at it all as I sipped the Coca Cola I had purchased. We pulled out and 30 minutes later at our next stop, the tea cups acquired at the stop before, went out the window along with my Coke bottle and other breakfast trash. Several folks acquired water, fruit and more snacks.

I was sitting there in wonder as there was something else going on, but I could not place it…

The sharing of space, the levity of spirit, the ingress and egress of foodstuffs and trash. It was different from most places I had been before, and obviously, my third class passage was part of all that. AHA! I finally figured it out. In this incredibly cramped, hot, humid area, filled with a thriving populace, there was none of the olfactory closeness that crowded body odor usually creates. Between a fish and vegetable diet and the cleanliness I described on morning rituals, there was a scent clarity that might be lacking in another culture.

Just a few years earlier, Sony had introduced the Walkman. It was a portable cassette player that could fit in a jacket pocket and play music to your headphones. With a few hours left on the ride, I pulled my backpack down, put on my headphones and let it play. The elderly woman who had helped me with my night seating simply stared at me, wondering what the hell I was doing.

I took my headphones off and offered them to her, smiling, she took them in her hands and put them on. There was a bit of a jump as the cups closed on her ears and then a huge smile as she began swaying to whatever it was I had on the machine. She took them off and motioned, asking to share the headphones with the woman next to her. I ended up walking the rig around part of the car until one of my hungover whiskey mates looked over and said “Walkman! Big deal.”

In Surat Thani it took some time, I found that the next slow boat from Surat Thani does not leave until late evening and is a 7 hour ride. The quicker alternative was out of Don Sak. I found a pickup truck heading to Don Sak and bounced my butt across a palm tree landscape with ox carts, motor scooters, loaded buses and pedestrians all claiming space as we broke out of Surat Thani. Things rapidly became less crowded the further we went and the road became more of a paved trail. At the dock at Don Sak, there was a funky looking multi purpose coastal boat. About 60’, it had fishing net outriggers that were battened down and a processing table that was covered with a tarp. Banked around the open area was seating for about 20.

I found myself with three other travelers heading to Koh Samui along with a dozen locals and climbed aboard.

When we got to Na Thon, the four of us found a truck to take us to the east shore. The two primary beaches were Lamai and Chaweng. The others were heading to specific locations and I jumped off at Lamai and began walking the beach.

From my chats on the boat, I knew that Chaweng was a bit more popular than Lamai and so I thought Lamai might be my spot. However, nothing really resonated and I decided to head up to Chaweng. There is a rocky point between the two and it’s a bit hilly, so I was pushed back onto the road. A passing pickup truck filled with farangs pulled over, told me I looked tired as hell and would I like a ride to Chaweng. I thanked them and swung on board.

Between the kids on the boat and those on the Lamai beach and in the truck, I came to realize that at 32 years old, I was an old man. Everyone I had met to date were in their mid to late twenties. I realized large gratitude and was thankful for how flexible and wondrous my life could be.

I jumped off at our first Chaweng stop and re-started my beach patrol. Most of the “villages” were 6 to 12 bungalows with an eating/gathering area and usually family run. I stopped a few times to get a feel and have a soda or beer.

The bungalows were one small room, with a small covered porch out front. There was no plumbing in the bungalow and you shared a village holding tank shower and a toilet building. A few bungalows had a gravity toilet appended to the back of the bungalow. No electricity at the bungalow, but each village had a generator that took care of running the blendors and providing night light at the eating area and covered things like a dance or other events. My bungalow had the aforementioned gravity toilet and it cost $2 per day. Food was garden fresh and inexpensive as well. Beers and sodas were the items that cost most as they were imported to the island.

I walked to the end of Chaweng and found my home. A small, 6 bungalow village and the family running it were the nicest hosts I had met on a day filled with them. I was exhausted and after unpacking my few possessions, sat down on my porch and marvelled at the view in front of me. And rapidly fell asleep.

I was awakened by the mother of the owner family who let me know that if I wanted dinner I should let her know. The sun was setting and I had slept the afternoon away. That night was a green chicken curry and afterwards, I walked back down the beach, learning the evening routines.

One village was all Aussies. Another village seemed to all be spiritualists of undefined sect (but they sat meditation most of the day). Even though I am a horrible dancer, my favorite was the dance village. This just meant they had a stereo and cassette player and space to dance. Everyone came there and it was a great, mixed group of people. German bouncing off French, interspersed with Dutch and Italian. A hodge podge of English accents, but Jane and Pam were correct, I was the sole Yankee.

One village, set back from the coast a bit was all single Brits and Aussies men who had hired girls in Bangkok to come and stay with them. These were guys closer to my age group. They were their own scene and rarely interspersed with everyone else. But it was acceptable in Thai culture as the women made money that went home to support family. Gratefully, we had little contact with them.

My days gradually gained a rhythm, an island format. “Mama” as she asked to be called would make me a banana and mango smoothie every morning and pancakes with mango slices laid upon them. A bit stuffed, I would go to my porch and sit there listening to Steely Dan. I had a lot of different cassettes with me, but what I remember most clearly was constantly banging through the Steely Dan catalogue during my stay. Not knowing I would be doing rudimentary bungalow living when I left LA, I had brought Noble House by James Clavell for reading (a very big, fat book and not easy to travel with). But damn, it served me well during my long stay on the island.

Afternoons were for exploration. Wat Phra Yai temple (also known as Big Buddha) was a nice long hike from my bungalow. The myriad of waterfalls in the island center often required a lift. Sometimes I would plot that out in advance and other times, just start walking and see what happened.

My favorite waterfall was Na Mueang waterfall

Some evenings I would eat at other villages and I would rotate between going to the dance village and just staying in at night and getting to bed early.

There was a lot of excitement regarding the big monthly Muay Thai matches. I knew nothing about Muay Thai and needed it explained to me. Sometimes called Thai Boxing, is a Thai martial art and full contact combat sport that uses stand-up striking, sweeps, and various clinching techniques. It is frequently referred to as the “Art of Eight Limbs” due to its use of fists, elbows, knees and shins. A decade or more later, as MMA - UFC began its climb into the mainstream, the whole world became familiar with Muay Thai.

Some folks who had been on island for several months took me to my first match. It was pretty rudimentary. Outdoors. There were four large platforms about three feet high for fans to stand on and then an open area inside the square formed by the viewing platforms. There was a raised dais about the size of a boxing ring that sat at the same height as the simple viewing platforms.

It was an astonishing evening. The speed and agility of these fighters was contrary to the boxing and wrestling athletes that were common in the west at this time. The strange contrast between the Thai people and their generally gentle way of life and the way they behaved as Muay Thai fans was another wake up call for me to look a bit deeper. The fighters were respectful and greeted each other with bows. But the fighting was ferocious.

The bout was down in Lamai and we all headed to Bauhaus which was the closest thing to a pub on the island. It really was not much more organized than the dance village but post fight, there were a lot of us there, maybe 30-40 farang travelers.

I met a Thai man around my age and his American wife. They had recently moved back to Koh Samui. He was born and bred Samui Folk and had gone to college in the US and then worked the Pattaya area in construction. Plans were already in place for a Koh Samui airport and he knew that it would change the island irrevocably. He had returned to begin a construction company. He saw a commercial opportunity but also was hoping to help instill some way to keep folks from just becoming hospitality servants. He explained how the local dialogue was torn, with many not wanting the airport. It was a reminder that what I was experiencing was soon to be gone.

One day I discovered that my village had a VCR and TV that they used to show movies (a draw for folks to come and buy beverages, dinner etc, just like the dance village). But as it turned out the device had broken and no one could fix it. I offered to give it a try. As it turned out, there was a little breaker built inside the case. It was jury rigged and I assume there to protect against generator surges. It just needed to be re-set. I also added a little cleaning of the video heads and scrubbing the rubber advance wheels and we were able to make it work. I became a bit of a favored guest to Mama for my remaining weeks.

Big announcement up and down the beach that our village would show movies a few nights a week. The selection was not great and the TV set was maybe 24”, but the locals and foreigners would come on by - anything past about a dozen folks overwhelmed the viewing space. The Godfather was the favorite (it was grainy and on two cassettes, but nice and long which helped with the bar receipts.

There was also local Thai marijuana that was smoked and eaten (ganja cookies at Lucky Mother were a big favorite). But the special item were the local mushrooms.

I had not done psychedelics in several years but in this environment, I really wanted to have that experience once again. Mama had asked me several times if I wanted a “special omelette” each morning and half way through my stay, I relented and said yes. It was a substantial omelette and after breakfast, I returned to my bungalow porch to let the transformations begin. We later determined that Mama may have dosed me a bit heavily in her video gratitude.

After a bout of nausea, I strolled up to Big Buddha, where the 40’ tall statue appeared to be floating out over the bay. The temple is on the north side of the island and you could look across to Ko Phangan, Ko Tao and some smaller islands. The farang rumor was that there were idyllic beaches there and a mythical community of travelers. At the time both islands were unserved by ferries and had little populace, if any. Today, both are tourist destinations, with Ko Tao being one of the world’s great scuba destinations.

Of course no one had been to either island to back any of this up. 15+ years later Alex Garland wrote The Beach and then Danny Boyle directed Leonardo DiCaprio and Tilda Swinton in the movie, set in 2000 and the story’s premise was based on the beachfront campfire tales told back in the early 80’s.

By this time it was nearly noon and I was roasting, so it seemed a good idea to head inland to the waterfalls.

I was eventually rounded up by some folks in a pick up headed the same way. My verbal communication skills were a bit rough by this point and I simply enjoyed the trip as we visited several of the falls, just floating in their collection pools and marveling at where I was. By dusk, my trip was beginning to fade and I spent a quiet evening just lying on the beach in front of my bungalow, watching the stars come out to play.

Since Koh Samui, I have been fortunate in my travels and have been to some remarkable spots on earth. But the month I spent there remains unique. It was a solo trip and my interaction with others on island was actually pretty minimal.

The freedom to experience all that came as a result of my work and it came time to return to the rest of the world. The train ride from Surat Thani back to Bangkok was in a first class cabin and the hotel shower I took in Bangkok lasted far longer than the total of all my holding tank showers on the island.

It was quite a journey to actually access the island, but once there…

It was a simple stay. Straightforward, uncomplicated days.

And as they rolled on, the breadth of each day became wider, more open and I got to see a different man in the mirror. I cannot say it was a journey for everyone, but I found a real comfort with myself and wish the same for anyone reading this.