A wiser writing colleague once told me that the best travel stories were the ones that avoided cliches. That somehow managed to describe the most exquisite places on earth without relying on tried-and-tested tropes like “slice of paradise”, “tropical oasis”, “picture-perfect escape” and “hidden gem”. (Especially if it’s not actually hidden.) Even if they were exactly that.
Thank you for reading this post, don't forget to subscribe!So I set myself a challenge: to cover my experience at the Four Seasons Resort in Koh Samui without mention any of the above.
While I was quietly confident in my ability to navigate the Merriam-Webster Thesaurus, it turns out 832 pages of synonyms were no match for a resort determined to make every cliche feel accurate.
The Seven-Second Failure of My Anti-Cliche Mission
I arrived at The Four Seasons Koh Samui (better known in recent years for its scene-stealing cameo in the cult HBO drama White Lotus) with every intention of attempting journalistic restraint.
I was there to observe. Take note. And avoid words like “breathtaking” or “stunning” or anything that sounded like I’d been personally ambushed by scenery.
It was an objective that evaporated as quickly as the moisture in the atmosphere. In fact, my restraint lasted only approximately seven seconds after stepping into the open-air check-in lobby, where the views of the Gulf of Thailand were as lovely as the staff.
By the time my buggy arrived to whisk me into the hillside, past coconut palms and into a villa that appeared to have been arranged and approved by a very expensive marketing department, I had already mentally drafted at least four sentences I swore I wouldn’t write.
The Villa That Ruined My Vocabulary
Three iPhone Notes pages into jotting down the kind of observations that I would later use to write this story, I could already see a pattern. My commitment to linguistic discipline was fraying fast.
I could blame the great outdoors. The lush hillside of Ang Thong National Marine Park, that looked like had stepped up for an award-winning performance of Fifty Shades of Green. The sea sparkling a very Devil Wears Prada cerulean blue. And the infinity pool, which sat overlooking both with frankly more composure than I could claim at this point in the journey.
But that would be scapegoating.
Because equally guilty was the inside of my accommodations, which continued the theme of quiet overachievement.
From the jasmine Phuang Malai (the traditional Thai garland of intricately hand-woven fragrant blossoms and leaves) hanging on the door handles, to the basket of fresh and dried local tropical fruit like pineapple and papaya that sat by the king-size bed, my sleeping quarters were a space of calm … in a way that suggested they had never once experienced the phrase “quick email before bed”.
Nonetheless, somewhere in between the two, I started to realise that my original challenge was futile. If not completely doomed.
Because how exactly do you describe a place that keeps removing your ability to be objective? The answer, apparently, is badly.
The Problem With Experiences That Actually Live Up to the Hype
If there was an official itinerary for staying at The Four Seasons Koh Samui, I did not find it. Or more accurately, I refused to look for it.
For the days when I decided that my own private pool was insufficient, the private beach became a second residence.
On the shore, a blackboard gave me a list of potential ways to spend my day. I could take a coconut shell painting class at 9 am, a gel candle-making class at 2, or get competitive with a beach Tic Tac Toe session at 5 pm.
Tempting? Yes. Enough to move me off my sun lounger as staff quenched my thirst with freshly delivered watermelon juice, a scoop of complimentary sorbet, or an invite to take a dip in the communal infinity pool? Not this time.
However, in an attempt to pre-emptively prepare for the approximately 3,473 calories I was to consume in the days to come (see below), I did secure a sign-up for a quick canoeing session.
Out on the water, gliding past palms and watching the coastline unfold from a different angle, I found myself reaching once again for exactly the sort of language I’d promised to avoid. Was it serene? Undeniably. Idyllic? Unfortunately, yes. Every paddle stroke seemed determined to sabotage my anti-cliche mission, offering yet another experience that felt suspiciously like the kind of thing travel brochures have been overselling for decades. The frustrating part was that, for once, those little booklets at the travel agency weren’t exaggerating.
The Part Where I Ran Out of Acceptable Food Adjectives
The dining offerings at The Four Seasons Koh Samui delivered another truly challenging test for adjectives sans stereotypes. So when drafting this section, I decided to simply provide facts and then recommend you search Instagram @fskohsamui for your own visual evidence.
This felt like the safest approach. But, I pass no judgement on other food writers who have described meals as “a feast for the senses”, “culinary journeys” or “bursts of flavour. ” Because, unfortunately for my experiment, the resort’s restaurants spent the next several days making those phrases seem annoyingly accurate.
There is Koh Thai Kitchen: the breezy buffet breakfast and dinner spot perched on a palm-fringed hilltop, where guests can start their mornings (or end their nights) staring out to sea while sampling all-you-can-eat spreads that would not look out of place at a Michelin-starred restaurant (ironically, an award they received in 2026).
Think: Croissant ladders, build-your-own bagel walls, a spreads station with made-in-house passionfruit jam, and a fresh juice bar with bottles of green smoothies and cold brew coffee to go.
At night, the same venue leans a little more traditional – with slow-cooked curries courtesy of Chef de Cuisine Jeab, fresh local seafood in myriad incarnations, and a sugar-centric dessert spread that reflects the Italian origins of the pastry chef. Often with a side of traditional Thai dances for entertainment.
In contrast to the endless offerings of Koh Thai, beachside Pla Pla offers fewer options. But it is no shorter on deliciousness.
Here, the menu leans towards Med/Pan-Asian fusion, with lighter lunchtime options like ceviches, salads and sandwiches. And a few more carb-heavy additions (the lemon fettuccine is one of their signature pastas) after dark.
While not generally a big drinker, alongside the excellent cocktails that are on offer on demand, one of the Four Season Koh Samui’s most interesting options is their “Rum Tasting Flight” at The Vault – where guests can sample an impressive collection of rare and limited-edition spirits from around the world.
By this point, I had exhausted most of the neutral vocabulary available to me. “Excellent” was already doing heavy lifting. “Memorable” was circling overhead. “World-class” was trying to sneak through the back door.
And so, when it all became a little too much, I opted to head home and enjoy an [Insert non-cliche adjective] room-service meal, draped in a chic striped silk dressing gown, with a drink from my fully stocked min-bar on the deck of my [Insert non-cliche adjective] villa.
The Last Stand Against Self Love as a Travel Language
Self-love at the Four Seasons Koh Samui takes many shapes.
There is a spa, of course. There always is.
So, I booked a 90-minute “Samui Fusion (Lom Wind)” session at The Secret Garden Spa. The treatment combines traditional Thai massage techniques with aromatherapy oils and gentle stretching, designed to ease tension while coaxing guests into a state that can only be described as pleasantly horizontal. Conducted in an open-air treatment villa surrounded by tropical greenery, it was the sort of experience that made checking my emails feel like a distant and deeply unnecessary memory.
While the resort’s fitness facilities (A gym! A tennis court!) attempt to guilt me into considering physical activity as a form of self-care, I opt instead for a sound bath healing session with the hotel’s wellness team, where singing bowls, vibrations and meditative soundscapes work together to encourage relaxation.
Whether the session achieved spiritual enlightenment is up for debate, but it certainly succeeded in convincing me that lying still and listening to soothing noises qualifies as a legitimate holiday activity. Even better, it gave me a rare 60 minutes where I wasn’t trying to find an alternative to “unspoilt beauty”.
I continued the cycle of self-care with a one-on-one Muay Thai match with Anuphong Deesamer, fondly known as Kru Aan. Part fitness session, part cultural immersion, the private lesson offers an introduction to Thailand’s national sport, teaching basic strikes, footwork and defensive techniques. It is also a surprisingly effective reminder that muscles I was previously unaware of do, in fact, exist.
And then, quietly proud of myself, I follow it up with a Thai Banana Fritter making (and eating) class, undoing all my work.
By this point, my quest to avoid travel-writing cliches was hanging by a thread. Words like “rejuvenating”, “transformative” and “unforgettable” hovered nearby, waiting for an opportunity to sneak onto the page. I resisted them as best I could. But after several days spent alternating between massages, meditation, exercise and deep-fried bananas, objectivity felt less like a professional obligation and more like an unrealistic personal expectation to do balance without the buzzwords.
The Verdict
So in the end, the “cliche-free” experiment didn’t quite go to plan. I set out to describe the Four Seasons Koh Samui without leaning on the usual language that tends to follow places like this around, only to discover that the cliches exist for a reason. Not because travel writers are lazy, but because every so often a place arrives that seems to have been designed specifically to make those words inevitable.
Every time I tried to avoid the obvious descriptions, the resort quietly pushed me back towards them. Not through marketing copy or expectation, but through the far more persuasive method of simply being exactly what those overused phrases have always been trying (and failing) to describe.
Which leaves me with a slightly humbling conclusion: clichés aren’t always shortcuts. Sometimes they’re failed attempts at accuracy.
Because when a place keeps insisting on being exactly what it is – impossibly beautiful, absurdly comfortable and almost aggressively well-composed – language starts running out of alternatives.
And so I failed. Repeatedly. In multiple tenses.
Not because I couldn’t find better words. But because the resort kept making the worst ones feel correct.
But hey, at least I didn’t say “hidden gem.”