No bucket, no boom-boom!

It used to be that Samui was on the hippie trail and the backpacker circuit, but then the great unwashed gradually got more dissatisfied with the development, progress and cost of ‘their’ island paradise and moved on to Panghan.

Panghan was where the Full Moon Parties started, firstly with boats landing a few hundred people from Samui on a remote beach called Haad Rin. Magic mushrooms were consumed in quantities that would leave Cordon Bleu chefs scratching their heads (and perhaps other body parts) in wonder.

They danced and writhed and raved all night. I mean all night, man. And it was good.

A new paradise was declared. A nascent nirvana.

Word got around. Numbers increased. More shacks sprung up to accommodate the curious and the curfew-less. Hundreds grew into thousands. And numbers peaked at 40,000 with the Millenium party which reportedly raged on for endless nights and days.

Others tried to capitalize. Even Singapore tried to get Full Moon parties off the ground but failed (not enough mushrooms perhaps?). And even Samui offers Full Moon, Half Moon, Black Moon parties. And, not to be left out, the United Nations have a Ban Ki Moon ...

But there’s only one authentic Full Moon party. And even in the low season it draws around 6000 party-heads of, well, just about all ages. (At 48 I reckon I was the third oldest person there.)

The recipe is simple. Hop a song taew van from your resort or the jetty to Haad Rin. Hop off when you see the streets lined with stalls selling sand buckets. That’s right, that’ll be your fine crystal glassware for the night … a plastic bucket, sold along with your choice of spirits and mixers, ie, a small bottle of vodka with two cans of soda and a can of red bull for around 250 baht. Then get your wrist band to go in; that’s 100 baht.

Face and body painting. Tatoos. Day-glo fluorescent wear. Everything you need for a complete night out is there.

Then it’s down onto the magnificent beach – a sea of love and lights – where the music is pumping from any number of pubs, bars, restaurants. Just stroll along until you hear the flavour that’s right for you. Cactus and Drop In seemed about the most popular. Any vantage points, such as chairs and tables are taken early, and party-goers will be standing atop these, shirtless (only the guys, sadly, from what I saw), hip-shaking and fist-pumping all night.

Generous gulps from the sand bucket becomes too much for some. As the night draws on, it’s like a scene from the Somme. Comrades are fallen everywhere, and lie where they fell. An official ‘sleep area’ with plastic sheeting and cordoned off is available for those who need a little power nap. But, hell, I’ll sleep when I’m dead and live while I’m alive, as Bon Jovi used to sing …

If an economist or marketing guru wanted to study the free market system and competition they could do no better than watch the bucket stalls along the beach. Handpainted signs appeal to national patriotism (especially signs for Brits, Scandinavians, etc), popular names, the downright cheeky (‘Love you long time’) and the out-and-out sex appeal of ‘No Bucket No Boom-Boom’, jing jing.

 Fire-dancers and fire-swallowers wow the crowd with throat-burning antics. Burnt-out try-hards litter the beach, having peaked too early.

But the hard-core are now fired up and can be seen sliding down a makeshift slide, three stories high onto (but sometimes over or beside!) a rubber dinghy. A chiropractors’ delight! It’s like a bad  car crash – you have to stop and watch it.

Around 3am, the party was in full swing. But we’ve had enough fun and call it quits. I am pleased (and somewhat amazed) to have witnessed nothing untoward all evening -- just a crowd of fun-loving people partying with much bon-homie.

‘You mean you didn’t see people making out on the beach?’ asks my friend Shana. ‘Oh …’ she seems disappointed. ‘You didn’t see people making out in the water?’ Negative again. ‘Oh …’ she seems more disappointed. ‘You mean you didn’t see people throwing up everywhere?’ No, sorry. Her brow furrows like the absence of any of this is a cause for concern.

But clearly all was not well. Her husband Pong, who runs the Blue Lotus Resort where we stayed, tells me of an Irish girl who had hurriedly checked out at 4:30am without the girlfriend whom she’d checked in with. ‘Oh, getting the first boat out,’ nods Shana knowingly, as though she’s heard it all and seen it all before. In a way she has – after all the American has lived on Panghan for 20 years.

That’s clearly the Dark Side of the Moon. But I prefer to look on the bright side. As a party venue, Panghan is hard to eclipse.

KOH SAMUI -- A NEW SENSE OF DIRECTION: SHOOTING FOR THE STARS

Here's a funny thing. It's been about seven years since I've flown to Koh Samui, and I heard things have really developed since then (that'd be right, just after I sold my house on the beach here). Flying in low over the island to land, it was a picture postcard scene: brilliant sunshine, emerald waters, white limestone upthrusts, and idyllic unhurried looking resorts dotting the waterfront here and there.

Typical over-exaggeration, I thought, it's still the sleepy hollow I knew before. Then the plane kept on flying for a bit and we landed on Samui. I had been looking down on Koh Phangan!

Samui sure has changed. Long time friends in Bangkok used to tell me: 'Oh you should have been here in the 70s. You had to come by train. Beach front land was for sale for cents, but none of us bought because it was so damn far away and who would come to come to this island anyway?' Last seen, these friends were still working hard for a living, with severely bruised backsides from the repeated kickings they'd administered themselves for missing the, um, boat of Samui's development.

Then the airport went in, back in 1989 and everybody said that'd be the start or the death of Samui. Like a weather forecaster's each-way predictions: 'Tomorrow will be sunny, er, unless it's raining.' A lot of people nearly asphixiated on the body odour of the backpackers and hippies who washed (?) up here in their droves. Looking for that perfect piece of escapist paradise.

Koh Samui became synonymous with Full Moon parties -- nevermind that they were held across the water on Koh Phangan. But just like Byron Bay and Waikiki the mainstream mobs soon followed, lured by the magical settings they'd heard and read about about.  And watched: Alex Garland's The Beach was inspired by a setting on Samui (although it was filmed on a man-made beach near Phuket, but that's Hollywood for you.) And soon the backpackers and hippies decamped to Phanghan and Koh Tao, leaving Samui to much more monied masses. More than 1.1 million arrivals per year in  the last couple of years.  A new load of sun-seekers seems to land every couple of minutes.

The airport was renovated in 2007, becoming one of the most endearing in the world, like a bunch of bamboo umbrellas amid the coconut plantations. And gaily decorated little trolley busses. It feels fun.

I hardly recognise Samui. Where before there had been acres of green fields and coconut plantations and ramshackle rasta bars (with curious clouds of blue smoke billowing from within), now stand gleaming designery boutique hotels and sprawling resorts. Four, five and even six stars. Why even Chaweng's main road -- nothing more than a red rutted clay track before, making it a 4WD adventure ride in the wet season -- is now fully sealed and lined with Starbucks, 7-11, fish spas, 7-11, MacDonalds and 7-11.

Places like Poppies and Tradewinds that used to stand out, just blend in to the stylish streetscape now (well, not completely stylish -- it's Thailand so you're always going to have spaghetti-like scrambled strings of electrical wiring to blot the landscape). It's not nearly Patong or Kuta, but I am a stranger here nonetheless.

***

To make sense of the new Samui, I chat to Khun Seni Puwasetthawon, the MD of Coral Cove Chalet and President of the Tourism Association Koh Samui (the loud shirt pictured above is the official uniform the president is required to wear, I believe).

'Samui is an island difficult to access,' the likeable chap says, 'which is good and bad. Usually the middle and high class come to Samui, looking for 4 or 5 star, pool villas. Also more MICE [don't worry -- it means meetings, incentives, conventions, exhibitions, not rats] asking for high end.'

The high end is represented by foreign chains; Conrad, Four Seasons, etc, as well as home-grown local groups such as Six Senses, Anantara, Mai, Kirikayan and literally hundreds of others.

So what's the attraction, Seni? 'Nature. We are a green island; now we care more about environment, co-operate and keep Samui clean and green. A sustainable destination,' he says, ticking off just about all the buzzwords to call Bingo! 'Relax. Do Nothing. Nightlife, very fun. Angthong National Marine Park. Diving -- Koh Tao and Nanyuang are just 1.5 hours away. Waterfalls and mountains, fruit gardens ...' I can see now why he's the president of the association.

'Also, there are different categories of hotels to choose from 500 baht to 100,000 baht per night at Four Seasons or Everson Six Senses Hideaway.' (I scribble a quick note to myself to try request a freebie, I mean an inspection visit for professional research purposes.)

He's warming to his theme now: 'And great food,' enthuses the man who's clearly tested his island's product. 'Original Italian, Japanese, Chinese, Indian, Mexican, Western. Good steak. And original Thai, fresh seafood.'

OK, thanks Seni, that's enough -- you're making me salivate. I'm off to find some grilled red snapper. Which I find, at a cool local restaurant right on the sand nearby, at just 50 baht per 100 grams. A five-star experience at a one-star price.

Aah, it doesn't get much better than this. And, no, I'm not exaggerating ...