Gareth Scott

In June 1989, I flew into Koh Samui just two months after the airport opened. There was one concrete road around the island. Paradise, before anyone else found it.

Thailand Got Under My Skin

From Samui, I took a boat to Koh Tao with my girlfriend Marie. The weather turned. A wave smashed through the front of the boat—glass shattered, wood splintered, water flooded in. Everyone grabbed life jackets. Vegetables floated past in a foot of seawater mixed with passengers' vomit. My first thought wasn't the swim to shore—it was keeping my passport dry.

An elderly Thai lady grabbed my arm. I started taking off my life jacket to give to her. She shook her head, smiled, and motioned for me to stay calm. She was right—the boat limped to shore. That moment taught me something no guidebook ever could: Thais understand "sabai" at a level we're still learning.

Koh Tao back then had no mains electricity. Generators shut off at 10pm. After that, candlelight—and cockroaches the size of your thumb flying across the ceiling.

The Flights That Shaped Me

I've flown Aeroflot and spent eight hours in Moscow watching a man clear snow off the wing with a broom and shovel. I did the courier flights when they still existed—flying to Bangkok for next to nothing if you gave up your baggage allowance to carry documents for companies. My first flight to Thailand was with Qantas, on a codeshare with BA.

Once, flying Bangkok to Surat Thani with my best friend Paul and his Thai wife, the plane made noises I'd never heard before. Paul and I didn't speak the entire flight. When we landed, he looked at me and said, "I am never flying on that plane again." A few months later, that same aircraft skidded off the runway at Surat in bad weather.

The Week I Nearly Didn't Make It

I caught dengue fever on Koh Phangan. I was staying at Lighthouse Resort—only accessible by boat or a rickety wooden bridge—and I was too weak to make the journey out. No hospital, no official diagnosis. I matched every symptom in the Lonely Planet health section: the fever, the pain behind the eyes, the rash, the back pain so bad they call it "breakbone fever." The backpacker's bible probably saved my life, along with Marie, who made the trip to Haad Rin to bring back medicine.

For years afterwards, I'd catch the flu every winter and be bedridden for a week—even though I was young and fit. Then one year it just stopped. I rarely get ill now, even working in healthcare. The body remembers, then it moves on.

Where I've Been, Where I've Lived

The travel bug started early—as a kid, I'd hunt flights on Teletext and Oracle for trips to my friend's dad's villa in Nerja, Spain. One summer we took the train from Malaga to Barcelona, then the ferry to Ibiza. I fell asleep on deck and woke up with half my face sunburnt. The other half? Perfectly fine.

Hong Kong for a year—Lantau Island, a village called Mui Wo. Hanover for nine months, working as a carpenter. The Isle of Wight for eleven months as a paramedic. Three months on Koh Samui eating rice and tomato sauce every day because that's what I could afford. It was on Samui in the 90s that I met Granno—Grant Wills, now of Travel Counsellors—who was Travel Bag's top salesman at the time. We've been friends ever since.

Now, when I'm in Thailand, I live in Phanom Phrai—a village near Roi Et in Isaan—with my wife and our nearly two-year-old daughter. I usually fly Don Mueang to Roi Et, then drive. I drive everywhere—Bangkok to Samui, Hua Hin to Koh Chang, up through Korat, Khon Kaen, Udon Thani to Nong Khai on the Laos border. I hold a Thai ID card. I've been to Thailand five times this year alone.

Why I Started SabaiFly

After 35+ years of booking flights, I noticed something: the best deals and insider knowledge were locked away. You had to know which routes, which airlines, when to book.

I hold Silver status with Thai Airways and Gulf Air. I know their lounges, their routes, their quirks. I've flown Qatar, Cathay Pacific, Garuda, KLM, Air France—you name it. SabaiFly exists to share what I've learned so you don't have to figure it out the hard way.