I stayed at the ‘White Lotus’ hotel

“It’s like a Disneyland for rich bohemians from Malibu in their Lululemon yoga pants,” says Piper Ratliff in season three of The White Lotus. And just like that, a secluded luxury retreat is no longer just a hotel—it’s part of the global conversation. Few things in luxury travel are as surreal as watching a discreet sanctuary for the elite turn into a full-blown cultural phenomenon overnight.

That’s precisely what happened to Four Seasons Koh Samui—a resort that, even before The White Lotus made it the show’s star, had already earned a spot on TIME magazine’s ‘World’s Greatest Places’ list. But now, whether by design or sheer coincidence, it will forever be immortalised as The ‘White Lotus hotel’.

When I checked in last April, my expectations were simple—beach, nature, and the challenge of deciding whether to indulge in a third glass of rosé before sunset. What I didn’t know was that I was about to find myself on the set of HBO’s latest tropical drama.

Sure, there were signs. The resort was mysteriously closed for two months before my visit—an anomaly during peak season. The staff, bound by strict NDAs, were masters of poker-faced restraint—no knowing glances, no hints, not even the faintest hum of the show’s haunting theme track. But in the world of luxury travel, word gets around and soon whispers of the Emmy-winning show’s presence were everywhere.

HBO had taken over the entire resort, paying full price to guarantee absolute privacy during filming. While a few minor scenes were shot at other locations across Thailand, it was Four Seasons Koh Samui that would be its latest centrepiece. Security was airtight—no accidental tourists stumbling into frame. Perhaps only the gently swaying coconuts outside my villa could claim to have seen Mike White’s vision come to life.

What The White Lotus has demonstrated time and again is its power to transform the places it inhabits. These resorts don’t just serve as backdrops; they become icons in their own right.

When season one aired, Four Seasons Maui at Wailea saw an instant spike in interest. But it was season two at the Four Seasons San Domenico Palace, Taormina, that truly sent demand into overdrive. The Sicilian hotel’s rates tripled, online searches surged by 50 per cent, and the once-quiet retreat for discerning travellers became a must-visit for anyone hoping to sip an aperitivo on the terrace where Jennifer Coolidge sat.

So, when news broke that Thailand would be the setting for The White Lotus’ third season, the question wasn’t if HBO would choose another Four Seasons—it was which one. I took this as my cue to book a four-night escape to Koh Samui, fully convinced I had timed it perfectly.

Samui wasn’t initially high on my travel list. The island’s remote, boutique airport, privately owned by Bangkok Airways, creates a virtual monopoly on pricing, with no direct flights from India. An hour-long flight from Bangkok to Koh Samui costs more than flying from Mumbai to Bangkok. In a sense, the island has curated its own clientele, keeping budget travellers at bay while ensuring exclusivity for those who can afford it.

 And then there’s the cost of hotels. Unlike some Thai destinations where luxury and affordability coexist, Koh Samui operates in a different league entirely. Top-tier resorts here charge Maldives-like rates—without the overwater villas to justify them. Why pay the premium, I thought, when I could go to the Maldives instead?

But as I stood at the edge of Estate Villa No 3, surrounded by 42 acres of lush jungle and overlooking the water, I knew I had made the right choice.

It’s hard to pinpoint exactly what makes this property so special. Maybe it’s that it is one of the most thoughtfully designed and impeccably executed resorts I’ve ever experienced. While the beach and its crystal-clear waters are stunning, the real allure lies in the cliffside villas designed by the legendary Bill Bensley. Perched high above the sea, they offer panoramic views that seem to stretch endlessly.

The surrounding hills, dense with tropical greenery, make your villa feel entirely secluded. Yet, despite the remoteness, Four Seasons’s attention to detail is everywhere: from the staff who anticipate your every need without ever being intrusive to the pillowcases monogrammed with my initials. The only sounds you’ll hear from your villa are the rustling of palm trees and the occasional splash from your private pool. It’s quiet, peaceful and exactly the kind of place where time doesn’t rush.

The resort is steeped in the history of Koh Samui itself. Before it became a high-end escape, Samui was known as ‘Coconut Island’, where locals harvested coconuts with the help of trained monkeys. This history is subtly embedded in the resort’s design—monkey motifs appear in villa carvings, statues nod to the island’s past and the open-air layout mirrors the natural curves of the jungle.

Now, with season three of The White Lotus streaming, the transformation is complete. The internet is abuzz with speculation as fans eagerly analyse every frame, trying to pinpoint where the show’s next inevitable corpse will be discovered. Meanwhile, my once-private infinity pool, where I floated in blissful ignorance, now serves as the backdrop for scenes between the mysterious Rick Hatchett and his young, unsuspecting girlfriend, Chelsea.

Let’s face it—Koh Samui has arrived. And Four Seasons Koh Samui has officially been White Lotus-ed. Demand for the resort is soaring, and while no one will admit it on record, rates have already risen by 18 per cent after just two episodes. Travel agents are overwhelmed with inquiries, and tour companies are cashing in, offering seven-night packages with pool villas for $10,200 per person (which, at this point, might actually be a bargain).

 Even Jasjit Assi, the resort’s Indian general manager, who spent months coordinating with the production team, was caught off guard by the frenzy. But leaning into the moment, he has temporarily rebranded one of the hotel’s bars as ‘The White Lotus Bar’ for the next three months.

The once-quiet shores will soon be dotted with guests lounging on the water hammocks, whispering, “This is where Lalisa Manobal sat,” as they sip iced Thai teas and gaze dramatically into the horizon.

So, if you want to experience this paradise before it becomes completely overwhelmed by its own fame, now is the time. Go before rates double and waitlists stretch into 2026. Because if history (and HBO) have taught us anything, it’s this: Once The White Lotus checks in, the hotel belongs to pop culture, not just its guests.