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 give myself 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 offered 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 journey.
Koh Samui let me dive once more, deeply, into the Thai way of life — exactly what I wished for at the end of this trip.
To relax on the island
The final stop of my three-month Thailand journey had to be an island that would wrap me in one last warm embrace at the end of May—right before the monsoon decides to make its grand entrance. So I looked for a corner of the country where the rain still behaves politely and waits its turn — and I quickly ended up in the Gulf of Thailand. Koh Samui. The name stuck to me instantly, like a Post-it you just can’t shake off. A different climate than the Andaman Sea, they said. Less rain. More palm trees. Perfect for a few wonderfully slow-paced resort days spent drifting between the pool, the sea, and the “I’m doing absolutely nothing today” mode.
The flight from Bangkok to Koh Samui was booked faster than I could say “one more mango sticky rice, please” — and just as quickly over. Barely an hour in the air, and suddenly the island appeared beneath me, with beaches that looked hand-painted and a jungle that seemed to grow secretly at night just to appear extra lush during the day.
Upon landing, it became immediately clear: this is a completely different Thailand from the one I’d seen so far. Honestly, it wouldn’t have surprised me in the slightest if a few hula girls had been waiting at the airport — that’s how cute and tropically romantic this mini-airport feels. I’ve rarely entered a place that signaled so clearly: Welcome to vacation. Right now. Immediately. No detours.
Even during the approach, the island showed off its entire repertoire: long beaches, plenty of untouched jungle in the interior, everything compact, everything inviting. I treated myself to eleven days here — a worthy finale to a journey that had already filled my heart to the brim.
What do I love most about this airport? Its proximity to everything you actually want to see on the island. Chaweng Beach, Lamai Beach, Big Buddha — all just a short ride away. No complicated transfers, no “first three hours in a minibus, then a ferry, then another scooter ride.” Here, you step off the plane and you’re basically already there.
And so that no one gets lost, there are transport options for every budget and speed preference: taxis for the straightforward route, songthaews for those who prefer things breezy and adventurous, and minivans for the “just drop me somewhere and I hope it’s the right place” crowd.
In short: Koh Samui welcomes you with charm, simplicity, and an effortless ease that puts you in vacation mode the moment your feet touch the ground.
Koh Samui is a popular island in Thailand, known for its beautiful beaches, stunning scenery, and vibrant nightlife. There are plenty of activities to enjoy, including water sports, yoga and meditation, as well as a wide variety of restaurants and bars. It’s also a favorite destination for wellness and spa treatments. Some of the island’s most famous sights include Wat Plai Laem Temple, the Big Buddha, and the Hin Ta and Hin Yai rock formations. There are also many ways to explore the surroundings — from boat tours and island-hopping to hikes through the mountains.
Overall, Koh Samui is a fantastic destination for a relaxing beach holiday with endless opportunities for both adventure and downtime.
Lamai Town and Beach
Lamai — even the name sounds like a promise of sun, sea, and a soft shhh whispered by the waves as you walk barefoot along the shore. For a few days, this place is my home. I’ve settled into the Coconuts Palm Resort, a small tropical gem that truly lives up to its name. Once, coconuts grew here — now the palm trees sway elegantly over two turquoise pools, between which charming bungalows hide as if playing a game of “go on, try to find me — you will anyway.”
Everything feels well-kept, warm-hearted, almost familial. French hospitality dressed in tropical flair — a combination that surprisingly works. And yet, a faint shadow lies over this idyll: I am the only guest. For days. A resort just for me, one that’s meant to be alive with voices, laughter, and clinking cocktail glasses. The owner just lifts his shoulders in resignation: no bookings.
I had hoped to finally meet other travelers again, to exchange stories, maybe stare together at one of those ridiculously perfect sunsets. Instead, I’m accompanied by a silence that first feels strange — and then slowly becomes a gentle travel companion.
If I’m honest: since early April, I’ve barely spoken a word of German. Now it’s the end of May, and sometimes I wonder whether I can still say “Hallo” without accidentally adding an exotic accent. I knew it was low season — but I didn’t expect it to feel like “Thailand’s quiet weeks.” Many restaurants are closed, some shops look as if they’ve buried their last bit of hope in the sand. Even the beach carries that mood: no tourists, no sunbeds, no groomed pathways — just sand that somehow looks a little tired. I rarely stay long; the scene feels too melancholic.
So instead I head out, explore hidden bays, look for places where the sea still breathes freely and nature follows no timetable.
Because in reality, Lamai is the complete opposite of all this: a lively, colorful place that usually pulses with beach bars, markets, street-food stalls, and temples. The beach is one of the most beautiful on the island — long, curved, made for swimming. In the evenings, when the sun sips its last drink of the day and paints the sea gold, Lamai usually transforms into a place where you feel life: light, tropical, carefree.
Around it, excursions await: Wat Sila Ngu, bright red and theatrically dramatic like a temple from another world; the Grandfather and Grandmother Rocks, whose shape I won’t comment on here without risking indecency; boat trips to tiny islands; hikes through the green hills that remind you Thailand is always a little wilder than you think.
And yet, this year, everything is different. Less laughter, more wind in the palms. Fewer encounters, more time with myself.
Maybe — and this still surprises me — that is precisely the magic of this journey. That it forces me to slow down. That I’m not just discovering places, but also a piece of quiet within myself. A quiet that doesn’t hold me back, but walks with me. And whispers:
You are exactly where you’re meant to be right now.
Night Market where the night smells of chilli
Lamai. The name alone already sounds like walking barefoot, like salt on your skin, and like a cocktail you never ordered — but somehow fits perfectly, as if the island itself knew exactly what you needed. During the day, Lamai is a laid-back beach town with palm trees, massage beds, and a relaxed “I’ll-get-to-the-point-in-a-minute” atmosphere. But at night? Everything changes. Then life bursts awake — colorful, loud, wonderfully chaotic. That’s when the “Walking Street,” the legendary night market, comes alive — and suddenly the island seems to grow a second lung.
Here, the air smells of fried garlic, freshly grilled fish, and that papaya salad that smiles at you while simultaneously launching an attack. From every corner a pan sizzles, someone shouts something unintelligible (probably “Spicy or very spicy?”), and a tourist tries to look dignified while holding a skewer full of squid cubes. Spoiler: he fails.
Between all this, colorful lanterns sway, T-shirts no one needs pile up, and jewelry — for reasons I still don’t understand — somehow ends up in my bag. I blame the island. Or the atmosphere. Or the banana fritters.
I wander through the crowd, camera in hand, heart wide open. Every stall tells a story: of artisans whose hands have seen more life than my camera will ever capture; of people hoping today is the day you order the BBQ shrimp; of glowing fruits that look as if they’ve fallen out of a tropical comic book. And again and again, those fried bananas that somehow make everything better.
Music drifts through the alleys — sometimes Thai pop, sometimes a street musician whose guitar has definitely seen better days, but whose smile is absolutely priceless. It’s this mix of nostalgia, chaos, and joy that hits you right in the heart. If you can’t find a moment of happiness here, you’ve either taken too many selfies already or you left your heart somewhere between the airport and your hotel.
If you really want to feel Koh Samui — not just the sand between your toes, but real life — then go to Lamai at night. Let yourself drift. Try things you can’t pronounce. Talk to people you’ll only meet for this one evening. And enjoy the feeling of being part of a small adventure that welcomes you with open arms.
By the end, you’ll smell like Thailand itself: of chili, the sea, and just a tiny hint of longing.
