Koh Chang: A Love Letter in Sand and Salt

How do I even begin to put this place into words?

It all started with a red-eye flight from Chiang Mai to Bangkok. Bleary-eyed. Delirious. Our bags were tucked away in airport storage—we were on the final leg of our adventure, and somehow, six weeks had nearly vanished into the humid haze of Southeast Asia.

I knew my travel companions would be leaving soon. I wasn’t ready. I was just beginning to rely on others less, and myself more. I was just beginning to crave the rhythm of daily life again, instead of the chaos of sightseeing sprints.

But first: We vacation. Driver found on floor three. Van boarded. Ferry en route to Koh Chang. Three-plus hours, plus pit stops for roadside snacks and caffeine hits. I slept most of the way. Energy reserves: critically low. I am not a high-speed traveler—I’m a social sprinter, not a marathoner. And I was out of spoons.

And then… we arrived.

HOLY CRAP!!!

That was the only coherent thought I had when I saw the island. The winding roads had me clutching the seat in a white-knuckled “oh no” moment (one very real “oh sh*t” incident was involved). But the chaos melted away the second we got to our guesthouse—nestled on a hill, overlooking the kind of shoreline that makes your soul sigh audibly.

Dragging our very overstuffed luggage down that hill, I had one thought: “I’m going to have to get this back up later.”Two seconds later: “Nope. I live here now.”

This was the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.

And I’ve seen some stunners: Zion. Moab. The Isle of Skye. But this? This place took my breath, bottled it, and whispered, “You’re staying.”

Koh Chang isn’t the kind of place where you tick off a million “Top Ten Things to Do!” It’s where you slow down. Breathe. Reflect. And then maybe, maybe, go on an adventure. Which we did. One day. Because we had to. Because the universe said, “Hey, remember you’re still on vacation?”

So… we went snorkeling.

Now, let me paint a picture:

• I LOVE the water.

• I hate being wet.

• I’m not a strong swimmer.

• I get seasick.

• I detest sand in all the crevices.

• I had never snorkeled. Not even in a pool.

So naturally, it was time to snorkel in open ocean.

And it was magical.

Yes, I swallowed half the sea. Yes, I flailed and flopped. But once I got my bearings, face down in the blue—oh my stars. Floating weightless over coral cities, watching fish dart like living confetti, surrounded by the hush of the sea?That’s the kind of peace people pay good money for.

It was solitude. Wrapped in pressure. Silence. Backed by wave-song. Infinite. Yet present.

We made three snorkeling stops—each uniquely stunning. I had my trusty “not a GoPro” with me (pro tip: buy the GoPro), and at one point, our guide grabbed it to help me get better shots because I could not for the life of me dive properly. The waves kicked up ever so slightly, and my body said, “Nope.” I listened. I swam back to the boat.

No panic. No drama. Just… okay, body, we’re done now. That’s enough magic for today.

And in true Thai fashion, I didn’t worry for a second about leaving my camera behind with the guide. That’s how much trust this place cultivates in you. Same with the pashmina I forgot on the beach—found it the next day, untouched.

The rest of our days were filled with small moments: chasing sunsets, soaking in pools, playing silly games, and learning more about the people I’d come to care deeply for. These are the memories that linger.

Koh Chang was more than a destination. It was a pause. A recalibration. A moment where I realized how deep my love for this earth—and for the strange, beautiful people I share it with—runs.

Next stop: Cambodia.(And I know, I know I just said I found the most beautiful place on earth… but oh no, my friends. This part of the world isn’t done with me yet.)

---