I dreamed of Thailand’s paradise island, but I left it too late to visit

In the 12th installment of Metro Travel Hot Takes, Sophie-May Williams shares her disappointment with an island that Hollywood put on the map.

Thailand is a destination on many people’s bucket lists, mine included. From tropical beaches and rainforests, to laidback culture and world-class cuisine, it ticks all the ‘paradise’ boxes.

In 2023, I was one of the 28.15 million tourists who travelled to the Southeast Asian country.

Though figures still hadn’t reached pre-pandemic levels, it was obvious that tourism was steadily recovering. The place felt alive.

In Bangkok, I dived straight into the chaotic atmosphere, hailing tuk-tuks like a local and gorging on green curries. In Ko Tao, I sipped bottles of Chang in a fishing boat-turned-beach bar. In Ko Pha Ngan, I hiked through verdant forests, discovering coves lined with coconut trees.

For three long weeks, my experience was everything I had imagined it would be. In fact, it was better.

But when I arrived on tiny Phi Phi Island, which welcomes (read: endures) over 14 million international tourists each year, something shifted.

Instead of being greeted with simple shacks serving up seafood or smiling locals inviting me onto their island, I was met with a Burger King and McDonald’s. Side by side.

I’m no snob. And I’m certainly not one to shy away from a McChicken sandwich after a night out. I’d just heard stories of Phi Phi being one of the most naturally beautiful islands in Thailand. The 2000 movie The Beach had also been a reference point, so expectations were high.

It wasn’t just that the Golden Arches had been my first sight after a particularly nauseating boat ride.

It was that the vibe felt off. I’m not naive to the fact that many places in Thailand cater to the ‘party’ traveller. The difference was, I had yet to come across the disrespectful type.

Case in point: On our first night, we saw fully grown men release their bladders into the ocean as people skinny dipped, while others got dangerously obliterated on the infamous buckets. In hindsight, it’s no surprise the island constructed two fast food restaurants within a 30-second walk of one another. They’re clearly a much-needed hangover spot.

My visit to Phi Phi wasn’t just for the dramatic limestone cliffs, turquoise waters and white sandy beaches. Which, by the way, didn’t disappoint. I was also visiting a friend, Ana, who had been living on the island since 2018.

Spending six months of the year in Thailand and the rest on the Isle of Wight, Ana has seen firsthand how the island has changed.

She explained that before the 2004 tsunami, Phi Phi was the authentic Thailand paradise you envision: wooden huts, palm trees, and untouched beaches. But unfortunately, the disaster destroyed so much of the infrastructure, locals had to rebuild from the ground up.

‘The Thai people were so resilient and resourceful,’ Ana told me.

But as modern hotels and sprawling resorts sprang up, what made this place so special started to slip away.

‘In the years I’ve lived on Phi Phi, I’ve seen it get busier and busier, especially during high season,’ Ana said. Which is when the behaviour gets worse: people flick cigarette butts in the sea, leave rubbish on the beach, and feed monkeys cans of beer ‘for a laugh.’

I saw evidence of this. On a trip to the exquisite Monkey Beach, where we snorkelled amongst schools of colourful fish, I watched people harass the monkeys for the perfect Instagram shot.

Ana said it really hit home how much damage tourists can cause when she spent time on the island during Covid.

‘I saw so much of the landscape restored. The main party beach, which usually had murky water from boat petrol, was the clearest I’d ever seen it. It was so nice to see nature getting the break it needed.’

Interestingly, in the two years since my visit, Ana explained that Phi Phi has been working to reduce its party reputation. By no means are they trying to shun it for good — they’re just asking people to be more respectful.

‘Phi Phi Island is a dream world. I’ve always said it’s the best balance of paradise and party, with such beautiful places to discover if you venture off the party tourist track,’ Ana said.

I can also vouch for this: the iconic viewpoint took my breath away.

The hike to the top was filled with magical moments, too. Locals stopped to talk to us, I enjoyed a fresh mango smoothie from a small cafe halfway up, and I met plenty of like-minded travellers along the way. All of whom shared my sadness for the behaviour on the beach.

Ana is right. Everyone who visits this island says the same thing: that it leaves a special place in their heart.

It’s just a shame that the careless party actions of a few (which are always tourists and never locals) can ruin the reputation of such an extraordinary place.

Who knows, when I head back to Thailand in 2026, perhaps I’ll make a detour to Phi Phi. I can only hope that I experience the same island my friend fell in love with: one where tourists are considerate of the environment and the people around them.