I was about to get my head shaved.
At the Dhutanga Insight Meditation Center—an all bhikkhuni (female monk) spiritual sanctuary tucked away in nature outside the bustling city of Bangkok—Punya, the head monk, patted me on the shoulder, silver scissors in hand, and asked, “Are you ready to become a monk?” I nodded, attempting to hide my fear. Her gentle hands held a lock of my long, dark hair. Before I said goodbye—snip, snip, snip—it was gone. A few tears welled, and I wondered, “Am I going to be ugly now?”
Then, with careful precision, another monk began shaving my head. Once complete, my fingertips grazed my cold, naked scalp.
Christina Fang/Travel + Leisure
My monkhood only lasted two weeks; I couldn’t fight my itching desire to explore Thailand. But, when I left, the monks gave me a blessing necklace to keep me safe on my adventure. Three months later, rocking a fresh pixie cut, I would wear this same necklace as a part of my costume while playing a meditation student on the set of The White Lotus.
Who knew my travels would land me on an HBO hit?
Like Piper (played by Sarah Catherine Hook) in The White Lotus season 3, I arrived in Thailand eager to immerse myself in the spiritual world of Thai Buddhism. My journey began at the Dhutanga Insight Meditation Center as a volunteer. Before sunrise, I’d wake to the sounds of chirping birds and croaking lizards. Each day brought a slow and steady rhythm—moving from meditating to chanting to studying the Dharma (the teachings of the Buddha) to completing chores. My favorite one? Planting baby mango trees to blossom long after we’re gone.
Christina Fang/Travel + Leisure
The night after I left, I went straight to Khao San Road—a short but electric street packed with bars, budget hostels, and street vendors hawking everything from fried scorpions to fake IDs. I traded my baggy meditation clothes for a little black dress and dove straight into chaotic nomad life. With a group of fellow backpackers, I hopped from bar to bar, passing around cheap alcohol and inhaling laughing gas balloons. The night blurred into neon lights, pulsing music, and the reckless energy of travelers chasing freedom at the bottom of a rum-and-Coke bucket.
The next morning, as I nursed my hangover by attempting to meditate, I realized Thailand exists in extremes. Travelers come here seeking transformation—whether through serene spirituality or wild revelry. Some find enlightenment in meditation halls; others, in the dizzying haze of a Khao San Road bender.
I found it in both.
Thailand exists in extremes. Travelers come here seeking transformation—whether through serene spirituality or wild revelry. Some find enlightenment in meditation halls; others, in the dizzying haze of a Khao San Road bender. I found it in both.
Months later, I fell in love with Koh Phangan, an island split by these dualities. On the western side, in Sri Thanu, a spiritual community thrived, filled with yoga shalas, tantra workshops, and ecstatic dances. But on the south side lived the dark underbelly: Haad Rin, home of the Full Moon Party, the world’s biggest beach rave, replete with neon paint, fire dancing, and, again, plastic buckets of alcohol.
One day, a WhatsApp message invited me to be an extra on an unnamed HBO show. I was skeptical yet open to a new adventure. A few weeks later, I found myself on Koh Samui, a more developed neighboring island with spacious resorts, a double-decker mall, and its own airport, ready for my first day on set.
Christina Fang/Travel + Leisure
For 2,250 baht a day (about $65 USD), I pretended to be a meditation student at Wat Phu Khao Thong, a quiet, secluded Buddhist temple hidden away in Koh Samui’s Mae Nam area, home to monks and stray dogs. Within its grounds stood a striking golden pagoda and intricate dragon-adorned stairway (a feature you’ll spot in The White Lotus).
Before dawn, the extras arrived on set, still groggy as we sipped free coffee from the craft services table. In between takes, we bonded over card games and travel stories. We were a motley crew of backpackers, expats, and locals, all chasing a paycheck and a slice of Hollywood fame. Spending 12 hours a day together, a camaraderie formed among a small group of us. Whenever one of us got a close-up with an actor, the rest would silently cheer.
My shining star moment? A 15-second scene with Victoria Ratliff (played by Parker Posey) as she freaked out about her daughter Piper potentially joining a cult. But my favorite behind-the-scenes highlight was watching Mike White direct in a “Get Your Sh*t Together Portia” t-shirt (a nod to a character from season 2).
From the perspective of a lapsed meditation student and former monk, the depiction felt surprisingly accurate. Most scenes we spent sweeping the grounds, meditating in groups, and studying Dharma. The moment that felt off? A scene where we ate a meal at night—because I know firsthand monks don’t eat past noon.
Our last day of shooting flipped the script, so to speak. We changed sets from a tranquil temple to a rowdy rager. Fisherman’s Village Night Market was reborn as a tightly packed alley leading to Full Moon Party. Suddenly, it was like I was back on Khao San Road—except this time the buckets were filled with water. Dressed in pink cat ears and booty shorts, I pretended to party until we wrapped at 3 a.m. The night ended with my castmates and I slipping away for a sneaky photo with Aimee Lou Wood and Charlotte Le Bon.
My time as an extra strangely mirrored my two-sided experience as a traveler in Thailand—both as a spiritual seeker and a party chaser. But it was something outside myself that I fell in love with: the people.
As I watch the show with my fellow extras on Zoom, I am left wanting more insight into Thai culture, spirituality, and life beyond the tourist experience. The only Thai characters in The White Lotus work for the resort. As the finale approaches, I can’t help but wonder, will the show strip away the glitz and glamour for a more authentic glimpse of Thailand?
On day two of filming, we spent most of the day sitting in a stuffy meditation hall, filled with synthetic smoke and towering cameras. Hours passed with our eyes closed, legs folded in lotus position. I started to battle my own eyelids, fighting the urge to open them and check the clock. I wonder how many of us were actually meditating—and how many were just pretending.
At the end of the day, maybe that’s the real question: When we explore new places, are we truly immersing ourselves in new cultures, or are we simply acting as our old selves, pretending to be transformed by foreign destinations?
Like The White Lotus suggests, the answer depends on the traveler.
