Okay, I’m just going to say it and risk being pelted with coconuts: White Lotus doesn’t make me want to visit Koh Samui. It makes me want to run the other way — preferably to a place without Wi-Fi or smug characters in linen suits.
But clearly, I’m in the minority.
The internet is frothing over Season 3, and Koh Samui has become the latest pilgrimage site for the global fandom. Agoda reports a 65% spike in Thailand searches from the US alone. It’s like the series dropped a tourism nuke — again. According to Agoda’s Andrew Smith, the show is “one long advertisement” for Thailand. Subtlety is dead.
I get it. I watched Season 1. Dutifully. The Hawaiian backdrops were stunning, the people were beautiful until they turned grotesque — all as expected. Who wants to hang out with such people on your island getaways? Caricatures with cocktails. It was entertaining in that slow-burn, cringe-your-way-through-it kind of way.
But I couldn’t get into Season 2. That is, until a friend — whose taste I usually trust — asked me if I’d seen it. I confessed I couldn’t make it past the opening. The look he gave me was somewhere between pity and betrayal. Suddenly, I had the worst kind of FOMO: elitist pop culture guilt.
The White Lotus in Cape Town.
I tried to escape it — literally. I flew to Cape Town. Surely, I thought, the White Lotus spell couldn’t reach the tip of Africa. And then I passed a building on Kloof Street. Big sign. Familiar font. “The White Lotus.”
Turns out it’s a wellness centre. Though I did wonder — do you go there to be killed or healed?
The cat that got out of the bag at Delaire Graff Estate, Stellenbosch, Cape Town
At that point, I gave in. I was staying in a villa so picturesque it practically screamed “future White Lotus location,” so I streamed Season 2, mostly to avoid cultural exile. By episode two, I found myself walking through the lush grounds of Delaire Graff with friends, when the inevitable happened.
“Who’s your favourite character?” one asked. I answered. Without missing a beat, he said, “Oh, she dies.”
A couple walking behind us actually screamed.
They, too, had been White Lotus-ed.
Clearly, I’m the outlier here — immune (or resistant) to the White Lotus effect. But the data tells a different story. The original resort in Maui reported a 425% spike in website visits after Season 1. The second season’s hotel in Sicily? Booked out for six months post-filming.
And now Samui’s enjoying its moment in the sun, with a 65% rise in foreign bookings during Songkran. Whether it’s the scenery, the drama, or the fantasy of being someone else somewhere else — the lotus continues to bloom.
But for me, the bloom is off. I’m still haunted by that wellness centre in Cape Town.
Whatever rocks your lotus, baby.
