Thanks largely, to the 1997 hit movie, The Beach, my vision of Ko Phi-Phi was one of a tropical paradise. Of un-touched golden sands, emerald waters and rolling hillside carpeted in dense vegetation. Scarcely populated and unspoilt by the world. One of natures remaining jewels.

The reality of modern Phi-Phi was, disappointingly, somewhat different.

Stepping from the ferry you will find yourself greeted by dozens of expensive hotel and guesthouse owners, all eagerly anticipating the latest group of tourists and only too willing to thrust the laminated pictures of their accommodation into your face.

Beyond them are the winding, labyrinthine lanes that encompass the islands township. It is one large tourist trap. Nothing more. Filled with convenience stores, overpriced bars and bland western food, it has the distinct feel of an 18-30’s holiday resort. To add to that impression are the thousands of young Aussies as well as backpackers from all over the world, that pack the place out for most of the year.

The evenings find the island coming to life, with banging sound systems, nightly beach parties and bars offering drunken tourists the chance, in exchange for a free whiskey bucket, to climb between the ropes and enter the world of Muay Thai (Thai boxing).

Mornings, on the other hand, see the cleanup operation in full flow, with the debris of the previous nights bar crawl strewn everywhere. In contrast to the evenings though, this time of day is relatively serene and a more relaxing time to explore the area.

We arrived here late afternoon hoping to find a room for no more than 500 baht, which was our budget, and quickly discovered that reasonable prices did not exist. Prices were, at least, double what you would expect to pay on the mainland. After pushing through the throng at the ferry terminal we conducted a rough walking tour of the island and, discounting those scandalously overpriced, we found sign after sign declaring ‘no rooms’.

Towards the rear of the township, deflated and beginning to consider the practicalities of sleeping on the beach, we noticed a sign for ‘Chanu Bungalows’, hanging above the entrance to a narrow alleyway. Beneath the sign was a small reception desk that doubled as a pancake stall as well as a tour operator. The woman behind the desk was plump, friendly looking and wearing a beaming, white toothed smile as we approached her. After establishing that they had rooms for the lowest rate we had come across we accepted without hesitation.

The room we took was a stuffy, dimly lit bungalow. Set in the pleasant, compact garden at the other end of the narrow alleyway, it was the very definition of basic. Made from flimsy looking weaved wood, I didn’t hold out much hope for it still being standing the following morning. A light breeze would have pushed it to its limit. Inside the low doorway was a mattress on the floor and a lime green mosquito net hanging above. Opposite, was a lump of wood hanging loosely from the wall, masquerading as a door, through which was the roofless, concrete cell, also known as the bathroom, complete with cold water and non-flush toilet.

At 800 baht per night (besides Sathorn Grace in Bangkok) it was the most expensive room we had rented during our time in Asia. It was also the most basic. That tells you all you need to know about the price structure on the island.

On the plus side, the local family that own the place were genuinely friendly and couldn’t seem to do enough to help us out. Everything was heavily discounted for guests, from the internet, to pancakes, to tours of the island. Even as we were booking in, the plump, chirpy woman at reception had confided that she knew the island was expensive and, as far as possible, she tried to help her guests out as much as she could in the hope that, maybe, their money would go a little further. She seemed sincere and, in many ways, reminded us both of our Australian surrogate mother from the Maroochydore YHA, Gayle. Only, Asian, and less likely to call you a “useless pr*ck“.

Our first stop on the island was the simple but welcoming décor of the Papaya restaurant, tucked away down a short cul-de-sac in the centre of the town. The dishes offer an authentic taste of Thailand and the portions are huge. Restraining ourselves, we ordered one spicy chicken salad, one Thai green curry and a portion of rice. After over an hour of valiantly doing battle with the bottomless dishes we admitted defeat, having finished not a single one and wishing we had opted for elasticated trousers.

A friend we had met in Australia had recommended this little gem to us and for that we are in her debt. It was, easily, the best food we’ve had the pleasure of consuming during our time in Thailand.

We also couldn’t resist the urge to witness the amusing spectacle of drunken foreigners, fully kitted out in gloves, head guards and traditional shorts, staggering around a ring and attempting to kick each other in the face, and so, we made our way to the large, open air, and overpriced, Reggae Bar.

To give you a taste of proceedings, the first ’fighter’ couldn’t even get over the ropes and into the ring. He attempted it, several times, only to fall backward, legs reaching to the sky, onto the floor with a thud. When he eventually succeeded in flopping clumsily through and onto the canvas, he stumbled about, arms flailing all over the place until the bell sounded for round one to commence. At that point he looked up, made a swift decision on which of the three blurry figures in the opposite corner to go for first, and then charged, head first, towards who I presumed was his mate, wound up a full on, windmill style haymaker, completely missed and collapsed on his arse into the centre of the ring.

That there was about as technical as it got.

I have to say though, pretty or not, it was one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen. Pure, unintentional, comedy genius.

The following morning we joined the mass of tourists at the small, cluttered, long boat pier found at the back of the narrow market. Dozens of the iconic wooden boats were floating in the rocky shallows in either direction, awaiting the latest groups to be herded, one after the other, around the must see sights of the immediate area. Included, were the stunningly beautiful, but shockingly crowded, Maya Bay, as well as several snorkelling hot spots, set amongst the crystal clear tropical waters and overlooked by rugged limestone karsts.

During the course of the sun drenched day, Aimee fulfilled a long standing ambition to find Nemo, I got sunburnt, as well as caught in a rip current and almost swept out to sea, and we both, to varying degrees, swum with sharks. Aimee, next to one. Me, in the same ocean.

After departing the next morning, that effectively brought to a close the story of what was generally a disappointing stay here on the much lauded island of Ko Phi-Phi. Disappointing in the sense that our expectations were not matched by the reality. That what was once a truly amazing, natural, picture perfect setting has become overrun by tourism and developed to the point of resembling a tasteless Spanish holiday resort.

If you arrive here in the knowledge that the preservation of nature comes a distant second to the tourist dollar, then you will not be disappointed. Lets not forget though, that this island is officially part of a protected national marine park. The fact then, that this blog has taken on a negative tone, is a shameful indictment of this so called protection.

Just two nights after arriving we climbed aboard our ferry back to the mainland in the hope that our next destination, the private, secluded, Pan Beach, which we had booked the day before, might offer a little more…