I don’t usually write hotel reviews—life is too short—but every now and then an experience is so spectacularly awful that you feel morally obligated to warn others, the way someone might shout “don’t go in there!” in a horror movie.
If your attention span is about as short as the room’s lighting options, jump to the end for the final verdict.
The Setup
We booked this trip to celebrate our anniversary and, having been away from Asia for two years, decided to return to one of our favourite places on Earth: Koh Samui.
Little did we know we were about to star in our own budget remake of The White Lotus—one where the plot is the same, but the production quality… isn’t.
The Good (Yes, There Was Some)
• The food, cocktails, and staff were genuinely great—actual rays of sunshine in an otherwise solar-eclipse-level experience.
• The pool area and restaurants? Lovely.
• Breakfast didn’t change much, but it was delicious, like a comforting rerun of a show you don’t mind watching again.
• Special mention to Joy at the front desk, who tried harder than someone attempting to stop a sinking ship with a paper cup. Joy, you were fighting a losing battle, but we appreciate you.
The Bad (Brace Yourself)
1. The “Special Occasion” That Wasn’t
When the hotel emailed asking if we were celebrating anything, I expected… something.I replied that it was our anniversary and asked for recommendations.
Their big, creative idea?
Dinner at Treetops.
Groundbreaking. Truly. Who knew “special” just meant “eat at our restaurant like every other guest, but pretend it’s different”?
2. The Pool Suite: A Masterclass in Misleading Space
The room size looked good online.
In reality?
About 90% of the “suite” was outdoor space or bathroom, and the actual living area was roughly the size of a confused hamster’s playpen.
No chairs, no sofa, barely a cupboard—it was like they designed the room using the theme “punishment, but make it tropical.”
It sat down a set of stairs, hidden by plants and sunlight-proofed so effectively that I now understand what life in a bunker must feel like.
3. The Great Escape (Denied)
After one claustrophobic night of involuntary togetherness, my wife and I decided that our marriage would be safer in a room where we weren’t sharing oxygen molecules at point-blank range.
But:
• No pool villas available (Fair enough)
• No refund (fair enough).
• No transfer to another Anantara (same brand, different owner, mysterious rules).
So we “upgraded” to a shared pool villa—basically two Alcatraz cells welded together.
It had:
a) Lights dimmer than my hopes by that point
b) Curtains designed by someone who hates sleep
c) Visibility from neighbouring rooms so generous you’d think privacy was an optional add-on
If you wanted to change clothes, you had to assume the whole block was watching. Think “community theatre,” but you’re the unwilling star.
For this upgrade, they kindly gave us a THB 500 (£12) discount. Stunning generosity.
4. The Spa, or: Expectations vs. Reality
Given it was our anniversary, we booked a couple’s spa session.
The therapists were good, but the rooms looked older than the concept of massages themselves.
I’ve seen nicer, newer treatment rooms on Chewang Road at a third of the price.
However, the spa did give us a bottle of shower gel as an anniversary gift, so that, according to them, “we can shower together”. Sigh.
Tips If You’re Brave Enough to Book Anyway
• Spend most of your time outside your room. Trust me.
• Bring a flashlight—your phone won’t cut it.
• Book the half-day/full-day cruise from cruise desk at the reception. The boat is great, the crew even better, and the sunset is unreal.
• Avoid Pig Island. It’s crowded, smelly, the sand is full of pig droppings and a pig is a pig. Whether on the beach, on a farm or on yr plate.
• Get your massages on Chewang Road. Skip the hotel spa.
• If you need help, look for Joy. She’s the MVP.
• Keep clothes on in your room unless you enjoy accidental audience participation.
A Fair Note
On our last day, Joy arranged anniversary decorations, gave us THB 5000 (~£125) credit, and waived the airport transfers.
She truly tried to salvage the trip.
But the hotel wasn’t done with us yet.
The Grand Finale
The morning of our departure, the toilet flooded.
The bathroom became unusable.
We had to run to the lobby toilets like contestants in a very undignified obstacle course before sprinting to the airport.
I have never been happier to leave a hotel. Ever.
Final Recommendation
If the White Lotus references tempt you—don’t be me.
If all other options are fully booked, pitch a tent on the beach.
You’ll be more comfortable, have more privacy, and your toilet won’t revolt.
