At Thailand’s Real White Lotus Hotel, Where the Ultrarich Get Coddled

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At the Four Seasons Koh Samui, a five-star hotel overlooking the Gulf of Thailand, staff members pay close attention to guests like detectives studying their subjects. Their observations extend beyond typical notes about dietary restrictions and drink orders. “I know everything,” says Hannes Schneider, the hotel’s tall, Austrian resort manager with striking good looks. “I know when you arrive, what kind of vehicle you drive. I have a photo of you. I know if you’ve stayed at other Four Seasons hotels. If I call my colleague, I can tell them about your daily activities, both the good and the bad.” Schneider, like the rest of the hotel management team, exudes a laid-back island vibe with his linen clothing and energy-stone bracelets. However, this casual appearance belies his intense management style, which he terms “relentless.” His staff – an intricate network of bellboys, cleaners, waitstaff, supervisors – are constantly in contact to monitor guest movements so they can fulfill their needs or simply greet them by name (“using guests’ names is crucial”). As Schneider emphasizes with his steady, icy gaze, “You are under constant observation. Anything you say, anything you do will be noted and evaluated.

The third season of the satirical series “The White Lotus,” penned by writer-director Mike White, unfolds at a hotel on the Thai island of Koh Samui. Previous seasons have been shot at Four Seasons, a luxurious hotel chain renowned for pampering guests like royalty. Indeed, this high-end brand seems fitting for the show, which portrays affluent tourists displaying appalling, entitled behavior towards hotel staff and fellow travelers.

In early 2024, HBO rented an entire resort for two months. During the preceding year, the show’s director, White, spent a significant amount of time in Thailand exploring locations, understanding the local culture, and observing tourists. He initially hesitated to film on Koh Samui due to his past elimination from The Amazing Race there. As David Bernad, the producer, explains, “He had a very negative, spiritually charged feeling about Koh Samui.” While in Chiang Mai, White was hospitalized with bronchitis and given a nebulizer. According to Bernad, White hallucinated after using the nebulizer, which led him to visualize the entire third season under the influence of drugs. “Thailand is a mystical place,” adds White. His hallucinations resulted in several intriguing relationships: a group of long-term girlfriends who clearly despise each other; the Ratliffs, a wealthy southern family encouraging their daughter’s interest in Buddhism; and two couples – young women with middle-aged boyfriends who spend most of the season frowning and drinking.

At the Four Seasons in January, I observed an assortment of elderly gentlemen lounging under the sun, frequently capturing pictures of their younger girlfriends adorning bikinis at the infinity pool. Additionally, a group of tech-oriented individuals (in workout attire, using earphones, and opting for green juice over breakfast instead of the doughnut bar and caviar) were also present. Most visitors appeared to be Caucasian; however, there was one nanny per child. As Schneider explained, such luxurious vacations are commonplace for these individuals, often costing 50-, 60-, or 70-thousand dollars. During peak season, the hotel’s base villa rates start at around $2,200 per night, and it manages ten privately owned residences that can be rented for up to $30,000 a night, complete with live-in butlers. “These are individuals who have everything in life,” said Schneider, “and they receive it all on a silver platter.” They are successful businesspeople, celebrities, and frequent travelers (exclusively by private jets). On some occasions, so many jets arrive at the island’s sole airport, intended for this resort, that it becomes congested. (During my stay, one jet was too large to land, necessitating a smaller backup.) The majority of tourists hail from the U.S., Central Europe, and the Persian Gulf; unlike the rest of the country, which primarily attracts Chinese, Malaysian, and Indian tourists.

Schneider remarks that Thailand’s tourism industry, a significant part of its economy, has been dormant for quite some time due to the impact of the pandemic. However, last year, tourism numbers were almost back to pre-pandemic levels and the country is eagerly awaiting an increase in tourists, boosted by the popular TV show “The White Lotus,” which has previously spurred tourism in Maui and Sicily. The workers I spoke with at Four Seasons in Koh Samui were from the mainland and had worked at other luxury resorts like Banyan Tree, InterContinental, and the W. They live near their workplace, which is paid for by Four Seasons, commute via motorbike, and eat in the staff canteen. They described the Four Seasons clientele as more mature and sophisticated compared to guests at other local hotels. At the W, guests are typically younger and more lively: “It’s a non-stop party,” says one spa worker, nicknamed Tipfy, who, like many of her colleagues, has an unusual name derived from random objects or nouns. Guest-facing workers need to speak some English (the hotel offers online classes) and their jobs involve a lot of attentive listening; I witnessed one poolside worker being subjected to a 30-minute monologue about a newborn’s bowel movements. When asked if they frequently deal with demanding guests, Tipfy and her colleague, Piano, nodded and laughed. “In the spa, people have physical and emotional issues,” says Fan Mekloy, the spa director. They handle stressed guests by maintaining calmness at all times, smiling, and saying ‘okay’ politely.

Among the non-Thai employees, it’s often believed that being agreeable comes naturally within Thai culture, which they attribute to Buddhism. However, Jasjit “J.J.” Singh Assi, the hotel’s manager, points out that while staff may discuss difficult guests, it’s not as dramatic as portrayed on the show: “There’s a bit of embellishment there. We don’t invade guest rooms, and we certainly don’t sabotage their belongings.” If a guest becomes upset with Thai staff members, they are instructed to contact Assi or Schneider who will step in to handle the situation. As Assi explains, “Aggression is not part of their disposition. If you exhibit aggression towards them, they tend to withdraw and become more reserved.

Despite maintaining a friendly demeanor due to cultural expectations, it doesn’t equate to true relaxation, especially in a hotel setting where guests expect service like this, notes Assi, snapping his fingers. Similar to his coworker, he fosters a casual persona that masks a firm, unbending leadership style (he is the grandson of three generations of Indian military generals, and his grandfather was one of the founders of the Royal Indian Air Force). Assi’s method leans more towards soft power – when we have breakfast together, he speaks to me in Punjabi, comments that I resemble his sister, and requests his Indian chef to prepare dishes from my childhood. He tells me I can ask for anything I desire and will make every effort to fulfill it, and this is not limited to food. “We can arrange nearly anything” is a phrase frequently found throughout the resort’s website, next to a phone number. It appears to be the hotel’s motto, and something everyone I speak with takes pride in. This philosophy seems to be the backbone of the resort.

The more extraordinary a request, the more excited Assi and his team become to deliver it – to demonstrate they can turn the impossible into reality. A guest once asked for a magician, which was promptly arranged; the hotel even has the island’s only English-speaking Buddhist monk on standby. Recently, a guest arrived at midnight intending to propose immediately. “He said, ‘I need to buy an expensive ring right now,'” Assi recalls, who swiftly flew in a jeweler from Bangkok since everything on the island was closed. While the guest selected a ring, hotel staff secretly brought his girlfriend to the beach, where a surprise dinner was set up. The proposal happened at midnight. Schneider once greeted a renowned singer with an operational sugar gramophone. “Everyone makes big chocolate blocks,” he says disdainfully. “That’s so old-fashioned. How can you truly charm them?” Members of the hotel’s elite tier (an exclusive, invitation-only, annual membership program) receive napkins and pillowcases embroidered with their initials – “It’s quite extraordinary,” he says.

Schneider clarifies that extravagant demands are met only after the hotel verifies the guest’s ability to pay for it by examining their financial records, he notes, “They all have their Profit & Loss statements, naturally.” However, regular guests enjoy an unexpectedly high level of service. One guest expressed surprise when she discovered that housekeeping had carefully cleaned her hairbrush, removing all the hair. A guest who honeymooned at the hotel last summer said, “I didn’t have to think much,” referring to the exceptional service they received. During one dinner, a man hurried past me carrying a child who vomited in mid-air, splashing vomit on my shoes. In an instant, the staff escorted me to another table, providing Champagne, napkins, and sincere apologies. The vomit seemed to disappear miraculously, and the child was quickly taken to the beach.

Schneider invites visitors to venture out and experience the authentic Thailand, but notes they rarely do so. Instead, he shares that they quickly return. His expression suggests contentment as he explains their aim is to bring Thailand’s essence into the hotel by offering Thai cuisine, traditional Thai boxing, and wellness programs influenced by Thailand, including gong baths, massages, and Buddhist chants. One day, I even participated in a session filled with a mysterious feeling of tranquility – until a child unexpectedly vomited on me.

At this resort, there’s a vast array of entertainment options, ranging from sailing to spiritual healing through Reiki, but the most sought-after activity is Muay Thai boxing. This popularity is largely due to its charismatic instructor, Aan Deesamer. He’s muscular and inked, sporting a silver necklace and grill, adding an extra “don’t mess with me” vibe. His Liverpool accent gives the impression of sparring with a character from a Guy Ritchie movie. Throughout each class, he pushes me to my limits; when I mention fatigue, he only laughs. “Do you think I care if you’re tired? Hit me. Make me feel pain.” When I manage to land a hit on him, his reaction is priceless. Guests pay $73 for an hour of this tough love, and Aan explains the reason: “We don’t pamper our guests here. The visitors are just ordinary people like you and me.

The goal appears to be creating an authentic cosplay experience, even if it means enduring physical confrontations – and sometimes, guests will purposely provoke Deesamer, attempting to engage in a fight. He’s often faced with aggressive individuals, usually large men, who try to lift him off the ground and body slam him. Once he managed to knock out an obstinate American by applying a chokehold. “I advised him to tap if he felt himself drifting off. ‘Please, do it if you feel yourself fading,’ I said. ‘It shouldn’t take longer than ten seconds.’ He refused to tap. I released my hold and he fell to the ground. His daughter screamed hysterically, ‘You killed my father!’ I reassured her, saying, ‘No, no. He’s just resting.’ He regained consciousness shortly after and asked, ‘What happened to me?’ I replied: ‘I simply made you sleep.’

He rarely makes his guests feel humbled, but there are times when it seems like an inherent aspect of his job, especially with wealthy men. Given their power and wealth in their respective spheres, they can be quite demanding. However, this is now his domain.

He has trained several actors from the show “The White Lotus,” including Arnas Fedaravičius, who portrays a charming private butler and health coach, and Patrick Schwarzenegger, the spoiled, libidinous eldest Ratliff brother. Deesamer recalls an instance where he had to wait for five minutes while Schwarzenegger was engrossed in his phone or watch. Before they started boxing, he says, Schwarzenegger began to grumble about aching shoulders. “So I asked him to elaborate on the issue,” Deesamer explains. “He dismissed it casually, saying ‘It doesn’t matter.’ He showed no respect at all, considering who he was in my house.” (Later, the show’s producer, Bernad, informs me that actors from “The White Lotus” can transform into their characters during filming. “Whether we cast exceptionally well or we cast individuals who embody their characters, everything starts to merge.”)

As a movie buff exploring this tropical paradise, I found myself marveling at the seemingly endless struggle between the resort’s dedicated groundskeepers and Mother Nature. While Deesamer and his team gracefully weave threads of Thai culture for the guests, these unsung heroes wage an unending war to preserve the resort’s 43-acre terrain – a breathtaking cascade that descends from two lush mountains into a meticulously groomed jungle, overlooking the sea. Each dawn breaks to reveal around forty workers on their feet, ready for battle against nature’s relentless encroachment.

In my travels across Southeast Asia, I’ve encountered countless hotels teeming with creatures great and small – lizards, bugs, even water monitors. Yet, this resort stood curiously quiet, save for the occasional buzz of a mosquito purging operation. Twice a week, each building is enveloped in a cloud of mystery as a chemical concoction is released to eradicate unwanted visitors.

The beach at this resort has also undergone a transformation, with truckloads of sand brought in post-winter storms. One morning, I watched a man scaling the towering heights of one of nearly 900 coconut trees, reaching out to pluck just a single frond. It was a humbling reminder that even in paradise, there’s always work to be done.

Visitors continue to voice concerns about natural conditions, as if a resort like Four Seasons could regulate them as well. For instance, Zoe Thomas, associated with Koh Samui’s local dive center, Discovery Divers, and in charge of the hotel’s scuba and snorkeling activities, often hears comments such as “The water is too salty” or “It’s too sunny.” On occasion, she must prevent guests from picking up live marine life — sea slugs, cowries, corals — from the delicate reef that safeguards the beach. A colleague who collects feedback from guests at the end of their stay reports that while they may complain about pool temperature, they sometimes express frustration about the weather in a broader sense — “at times, they’ll ask us to bring the sun,” he says, gesturing frustratingly towards the sky.

In simpler terms, it’s essential to make visitors feel valued and attended to, even if some requests are unattainable. Fulfilling their desires, such as sending monks, magicians, or pastry gramophones, might not be necessary. As one manager put it, “Everyone craves recognition.”

For example, a staff member named Thomas frequently encounters guests who request scuba diving, despite their inability to swim and fear of water. If they complete skills training, instructors will accompany them throughout the dive. And if they don’t, he explains, “We’ll take them, dip them underwater by a meter, essentially, so they can have the feeling of an experience.”

Another manager notes that the wealthy require special attention, but no guest can be told exactly what they want. Instead, it’s about actively listening to their needs and then offering solutions that give the illusion of choice. The guest ultimately believes they are making a decision, even though the staff is guiding them towards a solution.

I inquire from the managers if they’ve ever set boundaries regarding requests. Schneider states that the hotel won’t provide marijuana for you, but will point out places where it can be purchased. (Cannabis is decriminalized in Thailand, and as soon as you exit Samui’s airport, you encounter a main road filled with stores selling it.) Assi clarifies that he doesn’t allow sex workers in the hotel, but if a guest persists on bringing “a companion they meet elsewhere,” they must register them. (Although prostitution is illegal in Thailand, the Thai sex industry flourishes largely due to the internet, as per Ronald Weitzer, a criminology professor who wrote a book on the subject: “There are several online, membership-only forums where current and former sex tourists and expats – whom they call ‘sexpats’ – discuss and suggest various bars, massage parlors, brothels.”)

If a visitor is leasing one of the properties, which are supervised by the hotel but not governed by its regulations, they have free reign to do as they please. Incidents such as these have occurred: In 2021, a British cryptocurrency trader used crystal meth, commandeered a speedboat, and fired pistol rounds towards the Four Seasons while he was residing there. Such events are not uncommon on Koh Samui – in 2015, two men were executed for raping and murdering British backpackers. Recently, a man was sentenced to life in prison for murdering and dismembering his lover on the island. Last summer, a local housekeeper inherited several million dollars and some cats from her French employer, who had taken her own life on her property. The hotel seems to play a significant role in the series, serving as a character in its own right. As Ratliff’s Buddhist-curious daughter describes it, “The White Lotus” portrays an exaggerated version of the Four Seasons, catering to rich bohemians from Malibu. When asked if he resides on the resort, Assi laughs, “No, no, no, I refused. A person like me would go mad here.

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2025-03-04 17:52