The first hotel in Koh Samui
( in 1965 )

Koh Samui lives on the coconut-lives on it, indeed, with an exclusivity which can hardly be exceeded by any other region with a mono culture. There are a few rice fields on the island and the coconut +6the field and garden produce is brought over from the mainland. This is not because the island cannot grow there crops but rather because the people there can afford to import them. Growing coconut palms is a paying proposition. And what is particularly remarkable is that the palm yields all this bounty and demands almost nothing in return. The owner does not even have to pluck the ripe fruit; his monkeys see to that. These are trained animals, which are kept as pets and looked after very well by their masters. Once the nuts have been plucked and gathered, the first-and last-real work has to be done: the thick protective layer of fibre enclosing the nut has to be removed. Down by the sea about an hour's walk to the south of Angtong there is a factory where the fibres are torn from the green shells and laid out on an open space like freshly mown hay, turned, dried and finally raked together. Only the fibres themselves are processed on the island; the nuts are taken down to the harbour and picked up by ships which call at Koh Samui every eight or ten days to carry them to Bangkok. The islanders are very much aware of the debt they owe to the munificent palm tree, for in the temples there is always a particularly large and beautiful coconut in brass holder on the altar. The coconut palm gives the island not only its wealth but also its beauty.
Marked off from the village by a little palm wood and only a few paces from the beach stands the temple. " Temple" is the usual translation of the Thai wood " wat, " but it is not really correct since "wat" means not only the temple itself but also the dwellings of the monks, their communal dining area, the school rooms, the cemetery and so forth. But neither is monastery quite the right word, for it has overtones of seclusion whereas the "wat" is a place where everyday life bustles in and out all the time.
The last day of our stay on Koh Samui happened to coincide with the February full moon. This is the day when the villagers flock to the temple to bring the Buddhist monks offerings of food. The women take great pride not only in preparing a tasty dish but also in topping it off in an appetizing and artistic manner. The night before the festival of the full moon there is a kind of church bazaar within the temple compound. Lights are strung from palm to palm, and between the monks' huts a number of stalls are set up for the sale of fruit, dainties and even household articles. The entire population of the village throngs through the fair, and the air is filled with the ear-splitting music of several percussion and brass bands all playing at the same time.

The monks live in pairs in huts which are scattered round the temple in the palm grove and look hardly any different from the usual farmhouses perched on stilts. Two wooden trestles are the only furniture in these airy cells, the walls are covered with book-shelves, pictures from magazines and souvenir photographs. Each cell is half student's room and half alpine hut and looks remarkably snug.
The monks were treated by the population and particularly by the school-children with respect but at the same time a degree of familiarity that showed how closely religious and everyday lift were woven together. This was brought home to us very vividly on the day before the full moon festival in the temple.
The temple is an undecorated hall at the upper end of which a statue of Buddha presides over an altar covered with sacred vessels and offerings. In the middle of the room there is a low wooden platform on which the monks sit cross-legged and at the front end of which there is a pulpit in the form of a capacious arm-chair. The faithful squat on level ground of the aisle running round the platform.

Koh Samui lies roughly half way as the crow flies between the capital Bangkok and the Malayan frontier. Being an island, it has always been open to the influence of the neighbouring country to the south. This is why two typically Malayan institution, cock-fighting and bull-fighting, have become popular not only with immigrants but also with the local people. There are cock-fights in every village on Sunday morning. Each place has its own pit consisting of a roofed timber building, circular in shape with seats in tiers all the way round. Cock-fighting is strictly a male affair and women are not admitted either to the arena or the forecourt. The fights are not so cruel as in some other places because the cocks attack only with their beaks and natural spurs and no knives are fitted. The people of Koh Samui go in for cock-fighting not so much through a desire for bloodshed but rather because it gives them a chance to indulge their passion for gambling.

The bull-fighting is an altogether more exciting affair, but it takes place only a few times a year. The fight is staged in the open palm wood not far from the village.Once again, the audience consists of men and boys only ; the women are found a place on carts at some distance from the scene of battle where they can usually see next to nothing. There are no end of ceremonial preparations as the two bull buffalos are groomed for the contest: they are sprinkled with holy water and censed with the smoke of pine splinters, their foreheads are rubbed with rice pap, their horns decorated with tinsel and gold leaf, special flowers and herbs are tied to their fetlocks, and all the time there is a singing of sacred songs and murmuring of spells. All of which shows that these fights are survivals of ancient religious practices.