Ko Phi Phi

Human use of these islands goes back a long way: the caves on Ko Phi Phi Le hold old paintings of boats, left by the collectors of edible bird nests who have worked the cliffs for generations under licence. Permanent settlement came later. Muslim fishing families from the Malay-speaking coast and from Krabi settled on Ko Phi Phi Don, planting coconut palms on the flat land and working the reefs, and the islands remained a quiet part of Krabi province into the 20th century, with a community of Urak Lawoi sea people in the north.

Travellers found the islands in the late 1970s and 1980s, arriving on fishing boats from Phuket and sleeping in bamboo bungalows on the isthmus. Development followed the usual pattern of the Andaman coast — bungalows, then guesthouses, then dive schools and bars — and accelerated sharply after the 2000 film The Beach was shot at Maya Bay on Ko Phi Phi Le, which made the bay one of the most photographed places in Thailand.

On 26 December 2004 the Indian Ocean tsunami struck both sides of the isthmus almost simultaneously, destroying the village and killing many residents and visitors; it was among the worst-hit places in Thailand. Rebuilding began within months, along with warning towers and marked evacuation routes. Pressure on the reefs and the shoreline grew with the crowds, and in 2018 the authorities closed Maya Bay to allow the coral and the blacktip reef sharks to recover. It reopened in early 2022 under rules that keep boats out of the bay itself, bar swimming and limit how many people are ashore at once.

Two quite different populations share a small island. The permanent community is largely Thai Muslim, with a mosque, a school and families who have fished and farmed here for generations, joined by Urak Lawoi sea people in the northern bays; the seasonal population is made up of workers from across Thailand and Myanmar and of travellers, many of them in their twenties, for whom Phi Phi has been a fixture of the backpacker route for four decades. The result is a place where fire shows and Islamic observance sit a few hundred metres apart, and where visitors are expected to notice the difference.

The village keeps the rhythms of the mainland south: markets early, prayers through the day, a quiet Friday midday, and the fasting month of Ramadan altering when and where food is served. Thai Buddhist and Chinese-Thai families add shrine offerings and the usual national festivals.

The sea shapes local identity more than anything. Boat handling, free diving and knowledge of the reefs are ordinary skills here, and many families have moved from fishing to running longtails, dive boats and tours without leaving the water. The 2004 disaster remains a shared reference point, and conservation — the closure and reopening of Maya Bay, limits on boat numbers, rules on where boats may anchor — is a constant subject of local argument and pride.

Only a few thousand people live on Ko Phi Phi Don permanently, and the number on the island at any moment in high season can be several times that. The paved lanes are for pedestrians only, with motor vehicles limited to emergency services: deliveries come off the ferries onto handcarts, rubbish and recycling go back the same way, and generators, desalination and water barged from the mainland keep the village supplied. Electricity, fresh water and waste are the practical limits on how much the island can hold, and shortages are routine at the end of the dry season.

Work is tourism and fishing. Guesthouses, dive schools, restaurants, boats and shops employ most residents and a large seasonal workforce; longtail owners run tours in the morning and fish at other times; and the northern resorts operate almost as separate settlements. The wet season empties the island, many businesses close, and staff return to their home provinces.

The day is shaped by the ferries. Boats from Phuket and Krabi arrive through the morning and early afternoon, the village fills, tour boats leave at dawn and return by late afternoon, and the last departures go before dark. Evening brings the seafood grills and, on Loh Dalum, music until late. Residents live mostly at the eastern end of the village, away from the bars.

Island cooking is southern Thai with a strong Muslim element. Seafood is the staple and the speciality: squid, prawns, blue crab, barracuda and whole reef fish, bought from the boats and grilled over charcoal or steamed with lime and garlic. Restaurants in the village set out the catch on ice in the evening and sell it by weight, and the simplest treatments are usually the best.

Southern curries turn up on every menu that caters for Thais: kaeng som, the sour turmeric fish curry, kua kling, dry-fried minced meat with a hot paste, and massaman, the mild, sweet-spiced curry with Muslim origins that is at home on this coast. Khao mok gai, spiced chicken with yellow rice, and roti, griddled flatbread eaten with curry or folded around banana and condensed milk, come from the same tradition. Breakfast for residents is often rice soup or khanom jeen, fermented rice noodles under curry.

For visitors the food is deliberately international — pizza, burgers, banana pancakes, fruit shakes and buckets of spirits are as much a part of the strip as pad thai — and the better Thai cooking is generally found in the smaller kitchens set back from the beachfront, where southern curries are sold by the plate. Fresh fruit and coconuts are sold from carts, and coffee is served thick and sweet with condensed milk.