The virtues and vices of Ko Phi Phi are hotly discussed by travellers and travel writers alike. The natural beauty of the island is unparalleled, even in a region of the world renowned for its stunning destinations. Limestone cliffs, turquoise waters, white sand beaches and miles of trackless forest make Phi Phi a perfect tropical island in anyone's book.

But developments over the past 20 years have made it the subject of controversy, with those who wanted to preserve its natural character, pitched against those who wanted to make it a world-class holiday destination and profit from the trade. To understand the dispute, you have to imagine what the island was like, 20 years ago, when it was first 'discovered' by adventurous backpackers looking for Eden on earth. They found it on Ko Phi Phi Don -- a long, wide sand bar gracefully arching between two magnificent islands, creating two placid bays ideal for swimming, snorkelling and scuba diving, surrounded by cliffs waiting to be climbed and forests to be explored. Back then there were only a scattering of bungalows, which was populated mostly by a community of sea-faring gypsies, who call themselves the Chao Ko -- the Island People. There was no pier and only one public boat each week made scheduled trips out to the island.

But the paradox in seeking out a hidden paradise is that it subsequently winds up on the map and others begin to seek it out, too -- in ever-increasing numbers. This became the primary driving force in shaping the island, fuelling the long, hasty and haphazard development of the island's infrastructure. The once-idyllic Ton Sai Beach became a port, clogged with boats and debris, with a pier to accommodate the large vessels needed to bring the growing number of visitors to shore enmasse. The sandy isthmus is almost unrecognisable now, blanketed with guesthouses, luxury hotels, bars, restaurants, tailors, internet cafes, travel agents, banks, CD shops, jewellery stalls and clothing markets. Here, price gouging is the norm and tourists are hounded by Thais and resident foreigners alike touting diving trips, boats for hire, places to stay and bars to drink at. Those who remember what it once was, and what it could have been, find it impossible not to shed a tear when they see the place today. It exists, after all, on what is partially national park land. Thailand might have created a well-managed park with walking trails, rock-climbing, caving, unspoilt diving and snorkelling sites ... From that perspective, it is a paradise lost.

But the blame doesn't rest solely with foreign tourists, the Thais have been grabbing themselves a piece of the pie as well. The western world has been paving paradise and putting up a parking lot for a long time before Thailand got into the game and can hardly take the moral high ground when it comes to how Thailand uses its natural resources. Whatever one may wish had been done with Ko Phi Phi, the balance of forces in Thai government and in Thai society have conspired to create their own future for the island as a well-developed and fairly affordable resort destination for holiday-makers from around the world

The chequered history of Ko Phi Phi took a tragic turn with the 2004 Asian tsunami. In the wake of the devastation, the future of the island seemed uncertain and the balance of power seemed to shift. Plans were revived to assert government control of the island and restore its status as a national park, allowing only careful and controlled development. But local land owners saw this as a cynical landgrab by parties within the Thai government, who, they suspected, really just wanted the cash cow all to themselves. The government's plans were thwarted and private industry rebuilt, reinvested, and expanded the island's infrastructure. And they did so in fairly short order, considering the enormity of the task and a complete lack of any government relief. At present, private development has picked up where it left off before the tsunami and shows no intention of changing course.

On the bright side, the island has been cleaned up considerably from the festering sore it was a decade ago, when construction marred much of it and filth covered the beaches. Through a combination of a growing emphasis on ecological preservation, and, ironically, the tsunami itself, today the sand and waters are fairly clean, there are no private cars or macadam roads and no plans to introduce any. A few dozens saleangs -- motorcycles with side cars -- pick their way over sand and dirt roads, transporting passengers and their bags to their hotel when they first arrive, but they are mostly used for getting goods and equipment from here to there. Other than that, modes of transport are limited to push carts, bicycles and flip-flops.

At present, as it was before the tsunami, Ton Sai village occupies a large chunk of the isthmus, constituting nothing so much as an open-air shopping mall. Along Ton Sai beach, half-a-dozen bars blast pop-music out over the water, serving pricey drinks and providing fire shows for the tourists into the wee hours of the night. Though on average it's more expensive than many other Thai islands, it's still remarkably cheaper than similar accommodation in other premier destinations around the world. Try finding a decent room in Hawaii or San Tropez for ten dollars a night.

Despite the touts and the crowds, Ton Sai village remains just what many vacationers are looking for and provides everything they need for a fun, memorable holiday. And in terms of the unspoilt tropical paradise the island once was, the good news for the keepers of the flame is that it has not died out completely. Ko Phi Phi Don's sister island, Ko Phi Phi Leh remains completely untouched, and only available for daytrips by boat -- though many now complain that the inundation by day-trippers has spoiled the place in an only slightly less regrettable way. But there's more: between Ton Sai and Laem Thong, at the northern tip of the island, there are half-a-dozen beaches, many accessible only by boat, offering an escape from the maddening crowds. There you'll find some dirt cheap accommodation, charming, rustic bungalows and mid-to-high-range spots -- from banal tour-group operations to some of the most exquisite luxury spots in Thailand. And there are still Chao Ko living out on Laem Thong, running local shops along-side the fancy resorts, selling food and drink at local prices.

Even within walking distance of Ton Sai village, inland towards the northern part of the isthmus, there's a great variety of places to stay where you can easily forget all about the shopping mall's dubious attractions. Old school travellers may well loathe what they see when they get off the boat, but when all is said and done, the natural beauty of the island is still there to be enjoyed, and with a little effort, they may well find paradise regained.