‘I got to see the islands through their eyes’
When Genevieve Roberts returned to Thailand with her family, 20 years after being there as a backpacker, she discovered a new kind of freedom
Iwatched from the deck of our villa on Koh Yao Noi island in southern Thailand as the first spark of white light tipped above the horizon over the Andaman Sea, a stripe of water already pink from the rising sun. As Astrid, four, and Xavi, two, gazed out to sea, briefly calm – calls for water, the potty and teddy panics now in the distant past of at least five minutes ago – I was struck by how wholesome the scene felt compared with the last time I saw the sun rise in south-east Asia.
Then, 20 years ago with my rucksack in tow, I tasted freedom in the form of buckets of whisky cocktails, drunk through straws. Experienced travellers would tell me the spirit was laced with amphetamines, so I never knew whether it was that or adrenalin that left me feeling alert. I’d returned to Britain wearing hippy clothes and headbands bought in street markets, hoping my experiences would carry currency back home.
Now, I dance more often to the Hokey Cokey than to house music; assess mopeds for safety rather than taxi potential; and mention Thai sticks in relation to my two-year-old’s collection of branches, rather than to the sweetscented weed smoked on beaches.
It was far more than the laid-back travelling scene that had drawn me to Thailand: the warmth that soaks through the country; the incomparable snorkelling that made me smile so much my mouth would flood with sea water; lush jungle where monkeys roam; the best massages, which feel like a workout. Two small children would only add to that magic, wouldn’t they?
When I visited Thailand in my 20s, I admired families travelling with kids. “One day, I’ll do that,” I’d think. I had no idea that those parents, laden with toddler paraphernalia, were considering dangers beyond the universal warning of pickpocketing as I spent my hours writing diaries, reading books and polishing coconuts to make hair slides.
Even then, I knew Thailand was well known for its child-friendly culture, hospitality and generosity of spirit. On our recent visit, we tested this to its limits. Not deliberately, of course. And only once, when carnage was unleashed by my children running around a minisupermarket wrecking displays. Thankfully, we were met with sympathy, not strain. The rest of the time it was easy.
Well, maybe not exactly easy: my boyfriend Mark had to dive into a pool when Astrid’s swim float unzipped itself and she started sinking; and Xavi’s lips swelled up when he had a reaction to mosquito bites. But apart from these emergencies – and thanks to the occasional babysitter who entertained the children so we could go out as a couple – the welcome the children received everywhere meant they grew in confidence over the fortnight we were away. By the end of the holiday, they would take each other’s hands to walk down wobbly jetties to explore new beaches.
A LAND OF INDEPENDENCE
Given how much help we received, it would be easy to travel here as a solo parent. Boatmen lifted Xavi into their longtails so he never got spooked or lost his balance; after one breakfast, a waitress washed Astrid’s chocolate-flecked face with a gentleness so far removed from 1980s spit-and-scrub parenting that I relaxed just watching her; another waiter entertained Xavi for an entire meal when he chose to stand at the edge of a perilous balcony rather than join us.
The children also added a dimension that I hadn’t anticipated. It was both a privilege and slightly bewildering to experience the islands through their eyes. We went to an incredible elephant retirement village in Phuket, where animals which have been forced to perform spend their final years, with all the creature comforts of the jungle. Xavi seemed as excited by the stick-collecting potential as by the giant mammals.
When we took a barefoot walk through the forest on Koh Hong, seeing where the 2004 tsunami had left its trail of destruction, he began to collect sticks. And when our long boat landed at one of the most beautiful Karst coves I have ever seen, the fine sand tickling my toes, he proudly held a forked branch aloft, finally sacrificing it for a bucket and spade. But he also spotted trails left by sand crabs and hermit crabs, and watched monkeys playing in the forest at sunset. The sea was so tame that he gained the confidence to paddle, something that scared him – perhaps because of the cold – in the waters of Brighton.
We travelled around the south-west of Thailand, arriving in Phuket and staying at the SAii Laguna, where we watched sunsets on the beach, then island hopped, by speedboat, to Pimalai on Koh Lanta. Four days later, we took a boat and car ride east to the Banyan Tree on the coast in mainland Krabi, and finally took a longtail boat to Six Senses, on the island of Koh Yao Noi.
ADVENTURES IN NATURE
The standouts were the traditional southern Thai huts – taken to their most luxurious – at both Pimala and Six Senses. We spent more time at each resort than we would have done without the children. Staying in teak and bamboo villas made by local carpenters, dotted among forests of bananas and palms, we felt firmly rooted in nature as the electric hum of the cicadas heralded each sunrise and sunset. Every time we left our villa we were on an adventure, spotting hornbills, butterflies and giant spiders, listening out for larger wildlife.
One night on Koh Lanta, I left a beer can out; by morning the monkeys had clawed it open to enjoy the dregs.
The level of luxury was a far cry from my backpacking days: there was no looking at the underside of mattresses for signs of bed bugs. Instead we slept surrounded by the forest and sea, in a deep, restful slumber – something that comes rarely to Astrid and Xavi. While our stay was almost certainly less glamorous than that of businessman and philanthropist Bill Gates at Pimalai, I doubt he experienced the level of joy that Astrid found while singing and dancing to Jelly on a Plate in the private pool. And, fortunately for other resort guests, the thick jungle muffled the sound between villas.
At Six Senses, we collected eggs from chickens which lay to the sound of jazz music (happy chickens make for tastier eggs); went for massages that I swear made me look momentarily younger; cycled around the island, lush from the rainy season; watched The Jungle Book at the beach cinema; and ate and drank by the infinity pool with breath-taking views over Phang Nga Bay.
Everywhere we stayed was childfriendly, with thoughtful elements included – such as the water slide at the SAii Phuket and an amazing kids’ club at Banyan Tree in Krabi, with activities including climbing ropes, ball pool yoga and ice lolly-making. Better than any kids’ club by far was the young ecowarriors programme at Six Senses, on which the children took part in beach cleaning, candle-making and mixing oat baths. As they made fishing rods and crafted fish from plaited banana leaves, Xavi’s holiday was complete.
NEW TASTE SENSATIONS
The food was so good we listed it among our “bests”: best cocktail (tom yam cocktail at Six Senses); best soup (tom kha – also at Six Senses – and tom yam at Banyan Tree, which had great chefs but the highest prices); best soft-shell crab (Pimalai); best squid (Bird’s Nest restaurant at Banyan Tree). With noodles a Thai staple and ice cream on offer everywhere – as well as children’s menus and the best breakfast buffets – Astrid and Xavi enjoyed sampling new dishes.
Each time we went further afield, whether travelling inland, exploring lagoons and stalactites among the limestone, or sailing to a beach I remembered from long ago, we would get almost giddy with the sights. We took a speedboat from Pimalai to Koh Rok Noi, a 90-minute, 31-mile round trip – the equivalent of popping to France for a swim. We took turns exploring the water, finding butterfly fish, puffer fish and iridescent blue starfish. The rainbow-coloured fish and healthy coral lived up to my memories of my first ever snorkel off Koh Tao, almost 190 miles east, where I’d pretended I was in a nature documentary as I explored what felt like an undiscovered world.
A day spent at the beach on Koh Lanta was the closest I came to my carefree, sun-blushed time travelling independently for years. I took Astrid out on a paddleboard, exploring the calm turquoise bay. We had massages that made us limber, made giant sandcastles, and ran in and out of the sea, time no longer a concern.
While we didn’t return home wearing hippy clothing, we did bring back a Tibetan singing bowl in our suitcase, chosen after a massage that started with the vessel’s hypnotic vibrations. It was only when we were buying it that I remembered I’d had one packed, alongside my diary and hammock, in my backpack two decades ago.
And while I might have been underwhelmed by the thought that Xavi’s overriding memory of his trip would be his impressive stick collection, the reality proved otherwise. One day, not long after we’d returned, he asked to visit monkeys after nursery. By speedboat.
Every time we left our villa we were on an adventure, spotting hornbills and butterflies