From jungle temple to tropical beach
Koh Samui in Thailand — a vibrant, multifaceted island you simply have to experience for yourself! I’ve reached the final stop of my journey here and decided to treat myself to a few quiet days before heading back home and returning to everyday life.
Now I’m sitting on the veranda of my bungalow, looking back on the past weeks, and realizing: Koh Samui is the perfect finale to my Thailand adventure. The island has given me so much once again — from an exhilarating quad tour through the dense jungle, which I had all to myself, to a place that truly enchanted me: the Magic Garden.
Since I had rented a scooter for a few days, this enchanted garden was, of course, right at the top of my bucket list. And it was absolutely worth it! The intricate stone sculptures, the gentle trickle of water, and the mystical atmosphere made this place an unforgettable highlight of my trip.
Koh Samui allowed me to dive once more deeply into the Thai way of life — exactly what I had hoped for at the end of this journey.
Quadtour
Something truly special was the quad tour I took in the heart of Koh Samui — an adventure oscillating somewhere between engineering, tropical madness, and pure joy of life. Even the ride there, about 45 minutes from the hotel, felt like a mini-expedition. The closer we got to the base station, the more the jungle pressed in on the road, the thicker the humidity became — and the wider my grin stretched. Somewhere between palm trees and potholes, it became clear: today is going to be a good day.
After a brief technical introduction — which, to be honest, sounded less like German TÜV standards and more like “You’ll be fine” — we were off. I had booked the several-hour tour to the waterfall and the treehouse, and soon realized: riding a quad is different. Very different. Those familiar balance instincts from motorcycle riding? Forget it. The handling felt rawer, more direct, almost primal. But after a few minutes, I’d fallen for this little beast and followed my guide along rocky trails deep into the island’s interior.
And the best part: I was the only participant that day — a private VIP jungle tour without having to be Jeff Bezos. The path took us far from any road, through muddy stretches, across streams and river crossings, up, down, up, down — while the tropical sun burned above us and the engine hummed along in rhythm with the jungle’s constant drone. Loud, wild, rough, beautiful. A bit like life — just with more mud.
After a few hours, we reached the “Bridge Coffeehouse,” a place that feels as if someone in the middle of the rainforest simply decided, “This would be a lovely spot for a treehouse café.” I balanced over delicate rope and wooden bridges from platform to platform, the jungle roaring below, cicadas in my ears, and a view over a sea of deep green leaves that looked as if it had been lifted straight out of a Studio Ghibli film. Up here, you feel free — and at the same time wonderfully tiny. A good mix, if you ask me.
One Thai tea later, we continued on to the waterfall. The trail was short but intense: 35 degrees, 82 percent humidity, and every breath tasted like adventure — with a subtle reminder that I should probably drink more water. The waterfall itself cascaded down several tiers into the valley below, powerful and yet meditative. I stood there — alone, surrounded by this vibrant nature — and knew: this is exactly what a perfect travel moment should feel like.
If you’ve brought swimwear, you can jump into the cool pool — I simply soaked in the moment. This tour leaves more than dust on your skin and a few drops of sweat on your shirt: it immerses you in the wild side of Koh Samui. A piece of freedom that stays with you — long after the engine has fallen silent and the jungle has spat you back out.
Magic Garden – Where the jungle whispers
From my small hotel in Lamai — the Coconuts Palm Resort, where the pool glitters sleepily in the morning and the palm trees pretend to wave at me — I set off that day on my scooter toward the island’s interior. No tour guide, no schedule, no “Say cheese!” moments. Just me, the road, and the gentle puttering of my two-wheeled adventure disappearing somewhere into the hills of Koh Samui. The wind first carries salt, then soil, later rainforest — and I think: this must be what freedom smells like when it goes on vacation.
My destination: the Magic Garden, a place that sounds like a fairy tale but feels like walking through someone else’s dreams. Between rocks, streams, and moss-covered statues, a quiet realm of stone and spirit unfolds — created by Tar Nim Thongsuk, a fruit farmer, artist, and, if you will, island philosopher. In 1976, at the proud age of 77, he began building this garden: as a tribute to Buddha, as a retreat for monks, perhaps even as a gift to time itself.
The garden goes by many names:
Secret Garden, Magic Garden, Buddha Garden, Heaven’s Garden — and somehow all of them fit. Hidden it truly is, magical without question. And when you wander through this green labyrinth, past dancers, musicians, mythical figures, and stone animals, you feel it: someone didn’t write their imagination into a diary — they carved it straight into the rock.
“Heaven’s Garden” — that’s what many locals call it. Because people come here who are nearing the end of their path. They want to see heaven once more before they enter it. That thought lays a quiet dignity over the place, as if time holds its breath for a few minutes.
The road up leads over the island’s highest point, the roughly 640-meter-high Khao Pom. Some claim you need four-wheel drive to get there. I say: absolute nonsense. My scooter and a healthy dose of adventure were more than enough. And honestly — if you only know Koh Samui via the Ring Road, you’re missing half the island.
And since you’re already up here: definitely continue on to the SeaView Restaurant. I promise you, Pad Thai has rarely tasted as good as it does at this altitude, with a view over the shimmering expanse of the Gulf of Thailand. It’s one of those moments when you’re not quite sure whether you’re smiling because the food tastes so incredible — or because you’ve just realized that you’ve arrived. Not just geographically.
The jungle is blossoming and fragrant
The jungle of Koh Samui has this peculiar way of hugging you — not like an old aunt who squeezes too tightly, but more like a tropical welcome that’s slightly damp, smells of earth, and immediately tells you: you’re out of excuses now, this is where you truly arrive.
After just a few steps off the road, the familiar sounds disappear. Engines? Silent. Music? Far away. People? Clearly busy somewhere else. Instead, nature conducts its own orchestra: crickets, cicadas, water dripping onto leaves — and somewhere a monkey call that sounds like he’s laughing at his own acrobatics.
I still remember the moment I stood in the middle of all that green and felt as if the jungle itself were breathing. It was as if someone had cranked up the saturation of life. Everything around me pulsed. Everything was bigger, denser, brighter than my imagination had ever allowed — and trust me, my imagination is pretty well trained.
Between the massive trunks of rainforest giants grow plants I usually only see in tropical greenhouses — there they behave politely in pots, here they live wild, unruly, unrestrained. Vines hang from the trees like natural climbing ropes, and between them red and yellow blossoms seem to explode, as if someone had decided to give the tropics a proper shake. Some leaves are so large I would’ve gladly used them as an umbrella in the next rain shower, others so delicate I hardly dared to touch them — afraid they might dissolve into thin air.
The ferns fascinated me the most — tiny ones, massive ones, in spirals, fans, and shapes I’d never even seen before. In damp ravines I discovered orchids clinging to tree bark, and bromeliads that had built their own little jungle drinking fountains. Even on dead branches, new life sprouted. Nothing is lost here. Everything is reused. The jungle is the true master of recycling.
The deeper I went, the stronger the scent became. A mix of earth, blossoms, resin, and that subtle tropical humidity that casually whispers, “Forget about your hairstyle.” The ground gave way softly beneath my feet, almost like a mossy carpet delighted that someone finally walked across it. Everywhere something grows — between rocks, in crooks of branches, even on roots that themselves carry more plants. Here you suddenly understand what “abundance” really means.
And then there are those encounters that catch you so off guard you stop in your tracks: a butterfly the size of my hand, shimmering in blue and emerald, looking as though it had fluttered straight out of a fantasy movie. A monitor lizard strolling through the undergrowth as if he owned the place. Or a tiny, almost transparent frog that leapt right in front of my feet — probably to show me who actually has the overview here.
None of it felt threatening. It was simply fascinating. The jungle shows you its world, and for a moment, you’re allowed to be part of it.
