Building a Life We Do Not Need to Retire From in Thailand

Why our move to Trat, Thailand, is not about living cheaply, but about building an antifragile, abundant life within our means.

There are plenty of articles online about moving to Thailand because it is cheap (word up, it aint that cheap anymore).

This is not one of them.

My wife and I did not come to Trat to live like bargain hunters, counting every baht and trying to win some strange competition for the lowest possible monthly spend. That version of Thailand has been written about a thousand times, usually by digital nomads with a stock photo of a beach, a bowl of noodles, and a headline promising you can live here for less than your monthly gas bill back home. Actually, you could probably live anywhere less than your monthly gas bill in 2026.

That is not what we are building.

 

We are not cheap.

We live within our means.

There is a big difference.

Cheap living can become fearful. It can make life smaller. It can turn every decision into a sacrifice. Living within your means is different. It is calmer. It is clearer. It asks better questions.

What do we actually value?

What do we really need?

What makes life richer, not just more expensive?

Here in Trat, Thailand, my wife Katae and I continue building a life that we do not need a holiday from. Not perfect. Not effortless. Not always tidy. But real.

And as I approach my sixth decade on this beautiful planet (60’s the new forty), that feels more important than ever.

The Question Changes as You Get Older

When you are younger, the questions tend to be noisy.

How do I earn more?

How do I buy more?

How do I get ahead?

Where should we go on holiday?

When can I finally stop working?

Then, somewhere along the way, the questions start to change.

At least they did for me.

Now I find myself asking:

What do I want my ordinary days to feel like?

What kind of life do I want to wake up inside?

How much do we really need?

What systems can we build now that will support us later?

What does wealth mean if it does not include health and peace?

That last one matters.

For years, many of us were sold a very narrow idea of retirement. Work hard for decades. Save what you can. Hope the markets behave. Hope inflation does not eat too much of it. Hope the politicians do not make a mess of things (fat chance of that). Hope your health holds long enough to enjoy whatever is left.

That is a lot of hope.

I am not against saving. I am not against investing, in fact the boy done good. I am not against money (real money – gold). Money or I should say fiat currency matters. Anyone who says otherwise is usually either very rich, very naive, or selling something.

But I no longer want money to be the only leg holding the table up. You can’t eat a gold bar!

The video that found me and sparked this article (I’ll link to it here) talked about retiring from the system, not retiring from life. That idea landed with me. The speaker described building a future around systems, skills, land, food, water, shelter and community, rather than relying entirely on markets, inflation, politics and pensions.

That is very close to how I have been feeling.

I do not want to retire from useful work.

I do not want to retire from learning.

I do not want to retire from building, growing, writing, laughing, fixing things, braking things and fixing them again, making mistakes, or occasionally muttering at the chickens like they are members of a badly managed committee.

I want to retire from pointless dependence. Doing stupid stuff for other people.

I want to retire from the feeling that life is something you endure for most of the year, then escape for two weeks if you can afford it, and to be honest I haven’t lived that kind of life for over two decades now.

Why Trat Feels Like the Right Place to Build

Trat is not Bangkok.

It is not Phuket.

It is not the polished, postcard version of Thailand that gets packaged for tourists and sold with cocktails, infinity pools and drone footage.

Trat is greener, slower and more grounded.

It is hot. It is wet. It is generous. It is inconvenient. It is beautiful. It is frustrating. It’s great for crowing cocoa. It is alive.

Some days, it feels like paradise.

Other days, it feels like paradise has a broken pond pump, a muddy path, a weed-wacker that will not start, and a sheep looking at you like everything is your fault (it probably is).

Usually, it is both before lunchtime.

For us, Trat is not just scenery. It is part of the design.

This is not where Katae is from. We met in Bangkok, moved to Koh Chang and then the mainland. This is where we have land. This is where the rhythm of life makes more sense for the kind of future we want to build. Not a fantasy future where nothing goes wrong, but a more honest one.

A life closer to food, soil, weather, animals, community and daily usefulness.

Katae also runs Thinglish Kitchen with her sister Karok, which is known in the Trat community. That matters more than people might think.

A good life is not just built with money. It is built with people. With familiar faces. With neighbours. With customers who come back. With tasty food, conversation, trust and the small daily exchanges that slowly turn a place into home.

That is a kind of wealth too.

Not the sort you see on a spreadsheet, but the sort you feel when you walk through town and people know your name.

Soil, Chickens, Sheep and Slow Wealth

On our farm, we build soil with the help of chickens and sheep.

No chemicals.

No shortcuts.

We are natural farmers, which sounds much more romantic than it sometimes feels when you are hot, sweaty, covered in crap, and wondering whether the sheep are secretly plotting behind your back.

But building soil is probably the best metaphor for the life we are creating here.

You do not rush it.

You feed it.

You protect it.

You add organic matter.

You chop and drop.

You let animals do what animals do.

You watch, adjust, wait and learn.

Healthy soil is not instant. Neither is a healthy life.

The modern world loves speed. Fast results. Fast delivery. Fast food. Fast money. Fast opinions. Fast outrage. Fast everything. We don’t do fast, and we don’t do smart, but that’s for another blog post.

Soil does not care.

Soil has its own clock.

That is one of the things I love about farm life. It forces you back into reality. You can have all the clever ideas in the world, but if the soil is poor, the plants will tell you. If you neglect the animals, they will tell you. If you ignore the weather, the weather will tell you, often quite dramatically.

There is no hiding behind theory.

The land gives feedback. We learn from it.

Sometimes gently.

Sometimes with a slap in the face.

Simple Does Not Mean Easy

People often confuse simple living with easy living.

They are not the same thing.

A simple life still breaks. It still leaks. It still needs tools, sweat, patience and the more than occasional colourful phrase muttered under your breath.

The farm does not care if I am tired.

The dogs still need walking.

The animals still need feeding.

The grass still grows.

The sun still comes up hot.

The rain still comes when it fancies.

But here is the thing. The problems feel more honest.

I would rather be tired from working outside than drained from sitting in traffic.

I would rather solve a real problem with water, soil, tools or animals than spend my day wrestling with artificial urgency, pointless admin, another digital platform changing the rules just because it can or a robot asking me if I’m human! The last is my favourite and drives me nuts!

That does not mean I have rejected modern life.

Far from it.

One of the strangest and most satisfying parts of my life now is the contrast.

In the morning, I might be out on the farm or in the garden, walking the dogs, chopping and dropping, sweating through my shirt and doing physical work that makes my body feel useful.

Later, I might be back on the Mac, working with AI, building online resources, websites and businesses.

One world is physical, hot and immediate.

The other is digital, abstract and full of possibility.

Somehow, they balance each other.

The farm keeps me grounded.

The online work keeps me creative.

Both are systems.

Both are tools for freedom.

It is a strange old life when one hour you are dealing with sheep and the next you are dealing with artificial intelligence.

But honestly, some days the sheep make more sense, 555.

Health Without the Gym Membership

My health routine would probably disappoint a fitness influencer.

There is no dramatic before-and-after photo.

No gym mirror selfie.

No protein shaker theatre.

No complicated biohacking routine involving ice baths, red lights, mushroom dust and a subscription app with a smug logo.

For me, it is simpler than that.

I wake up and drink a glass of water.

I walk the dogs.

I work on the farm.

I chop and drop.

I try to sleep early.

I get up at dawn.

I use SleepCycleTimeCalculator.com to help get my sleep cycles right, because being useful in the morning starts the night before.

I also like to take a regular home saunas and relax with a massage at a spa for an hour or two.

Katae does similar, although she is more disciplined than me. She also works out and stretches properly, while I claim farm work as my gym membership and hope nobody investigates too closely.

But it works for us.

Health does not always need to be complicated.

Sometimes it is water, walking, sunlight, sweat, sleep, real food and a reason to get out of bed.

That last one is underrated.

Purpose is part of health.

Having something useful to do changes how you move through the day. It gives shape to your energy. It keeps you connected to the world around you.

I do not want a retirement where the main event of the day is deciding what to watch next or how to get rid of another hangover.

I want to keep playing and living life to the full.

Living Within Our Means Is Not Living Cheaply

This is where I want to be very clear.

We are not trying to live the cheapest life possible.

We still like good food.

We still value useful tools.

We still buy things that last.

We still enjoy comfort.

We still travel to foreign lands.

We still believe some things are worth paying for.

But we are much less interested in buying things to impress people we barely know.

Before I buy something now, I ask myself two questions.

Do I want it?

Do I need it?

If I cannot answer yes to both, I don’t buy it.

Even when I get a double yes, I often sleep on it.

By the next morning, I usually realise I did not need it after all. It was just my ego trying to get its hand in my pocket.

That little habit has probably saved me more money, clutter and regret than any budgeting spreadsheet.

It is amazing how often a purchase looks essential at 4pm and ridiculous by 7am.

That is not deprivation.

That is discipline.

And discipline, used properly, creates freedom.

Living within your means should not make life smaller. It should make life lighter.

Fewer pointless purchases.

Fewer financial leaks.

Fewer things to store, repair, maintain and pretend you still like.

More margin.

More peace.

More ability to say yes to the things that actually matter.

Different Ways to Measure Wealth

The older I get, the less impressed I am by one-dimensional wealth.

Money is useful. Very useful.

But if money is the only measure, you can end up rich in numbers and poor in life.

These days, I think about wealth differently.

Time Wealth

Time wealth is having enough control over your day to feel like it belongs to you.

Not every minute. Life is still life. Things need doing.

But enough of the day should feel chosen.

There is a deep difference between being busy because you are building something meaningful and being busy because the system has eaten your calendar.

Health Wealth

Health wealth is being able to move, work, sleep, think clearly and enjoy the day without dragging yourself through it.

For me, that means dawn starts, farm work, walking the dogs, better sleep and less unnecessary stress.

It is not glamorous.

It is better than glamorous.

It is useful.

Relationship Wealth

A strong relationship is one of the greatest forms of wealth.

Katae and I are not just sharing a home. We are sharing a project. A direction. A rhythm, and we just celebrated our 11th wedding anniversary in Japan.

That does not mean every day is perfect. Of course it isn’t.

But building something together gives life a different kind of strength.

Community Wealth

Thinglish Kitchen is part of this.

The farm is part of this.

Living in Trat is part of this.

Community wealth is knowing that life is not just you, your bank account and your Wi-Fi connection.

It is people.

It is place.

It is being known.

It is belonging.

Skill Wealth

The more you can do, the less helpless you feel.

Growing, fixing, writing, building, cooking, preserving, repairing, learning, adapting, using tools, using technology, solving problems, all of these are forms of wealth.

Skills travel with you.

They make you harder to knock over.

Soil Wealth

This one might sound strange unless you have spent time trying to grow things.

Good soil is wealth.

Soil can feed you.

Soil can teach you.

Soil can humble you.

Soil can support a whole system of life if you respect it.

Peace Wealth

This may be the most underrated one.

Peace wealth is waking up without the constant feeling that you are behind.

It is sitting still without guilt enjoy a nice cuppa tea.

It is knowing what is enough.

It is not needing to prove your life to people who are not living it.

Systems That Buy Back Our Future

Every useful system we build now is a gift to our future selves.

A food system.

A soil system.

A water system.

A health routine.

A sleep routine.

A spending filter.

A digital income system.

A community system.

A way of working that does not depend on being in one place, in one job, at one desk, for one employer, forever.

The video that inspired this article made a point that stuck with me: every system that provides for a basic need means money you do not have to spend and time, (the most precious of all commodities) you do not have to trade.

That is exactly it.

If our land gives us food, that is not just food.

It is less dependence.

If our routines protect our health, that is not just health.

It is more future.

If our online work creates income, that is not just money.

It is optionality.

If our spending habits reduce waste, that is not just saving.

It is freedom from clutter, debt and regret.

People often think freedom comes from one big dramatic move. I’ve been there, it’s a cathartic experience.

Selling everything.

Quitting the job.

Moving abroad.

Buying land.

Starting again.

Sometimes those things help.

But real freedom is usually built quietly, system by system over time.

A better morning routine.

A lower monthly cost.

A useful skill.

A piece of land improved.

A tree planted.

A debt avoided.

A habit changed.

A relationship strengthened.

A business asset created.

Small things compound.

Soil understands this.

So does life.

Antifragile and Abundant

I like the idea of becoming antifragile.

Fragile things break under stress.

Resilient things survive stress.

Antifragile things become stronger because of stress.

That is what we are trying to build.

Not a life with no problems. That doesn’t exist.

A life that becomes stronger, wiser and more capable through the problems it faces.

For us, abundance does not mean having everything.

It means having enough of the right things in the right places.

Enough food.

Enough water.

Enough income.

Enough skills.

Enough margin.

Enough health.

Enough humour.

Enough dogs.

Enough love.

Enough sense to know when ego is trying to spend our money (your ego isn’t your amigo).

Abundance is not always luxury.

Sometimes abundance is walking outside and seeing food growing.

Sometimes it is sharing a meal.

Sometimes it is knowing you can fix something.

Sometimes it is sleeping well.

Sometimes it is having fewer things, but better reasons.

Sometimes it is a quiet morning in Trat before the heat really kicks in, dogs walked, water drunk, mac charged, and the day still full of possibility.

Escaping the West Is Not Enough

I understand why people want to escape the West.

The cost of living.

The weather.

The politics.

The pressure.

The consumerism.

The feeling that you are always working, always paying, always chasing, always tired.

The system is working just fine. It’s designed to keep you enslaved to it.

But moving country is not a magic bullet.

Thailand will not fix poor habits.

Thailand will not fix a bad relationship.

Thailand will not fix overspending.

Thailand will not fix a restless mind.

Thailand will not give you purpose if you are not willing to build one.

You can recreate the same treadmill under a warmer sun and compound on it with language and cultural differences.

You can bring the same stress, same ego, same spending habits and same need for status with you.

If you do that, you have not escaped much.

You have just changed the background scenery.

The real work is not moving to Thailand.

The real work is designing a better life once you are here or even better, before you leave for it.

And that means asking uncomfortable questions.

What do I actually need?

What am I trying to prove?

What am I willing to give up?

What am I willing to build?

What habits are coming with me that should probably be left behind?

Greener pastures are not just found.

They are made.

And then they need maintaining.

Preferably before the sheep eat something they should not.

The Beautiful Trade-Off

Every life is a trade-off.

The trick is to choose your trade-offs consciously.

In Trat, we have traded some convenience for more space.

Some polish for more purpose.

Some predictability for more presence.

Some status games for more peace.

Some passive comfort for active participation.

That will not suit everyone.

Good.

It does not need to.

This is not an argument that everyone should move to Thailand, buy land, keep animals, build soil, run online businesses and talk to their doggies.

Although, to be fair, there are worse plans.

This is simply the life that makes sense to us.

A life where work still exists, but does not swallow the whole day.

A life where money still matters, but does not get to be the only measure.

A life where we can build physical systems on the farm and digital systems online.

A life where local community matters.

A life where the ordinary days feel valuable.

That is the bit people often miss.

The goal is not to create a life that looks impressive from the outside.

The goal is to create a life that feels right from the inside.

The Goal Is to Keep Playing

I do not want to grow older by slowly giving up.

I want to keep playing.

That does not mean pretending age is not real. It is real.

Bodies change.

Energy changes.

Priorities change.

Recovery takes longer.

At some point, you have to stop acting like you are twenty-five with a slightly dodgy instruction manual.

But ageing does not have to mean disappearing from your own life.

It can mean adapting.

Building better systems.

Changing the pace.

Using tools.

Asking for help.

Teaching someone younger.

Passing things on.

Making the game playable for longer.

That is what I want.

I want to still be useful.

I want to still be curious.

I want to still build things.

I want to still walk the dogs at dawn, even if one day I walk a bit slower, ‘cos so will my dog.

I want to still plant trees, even if someone else has to dig the holes.

I want to still work on ideas, write, create, build online resources and learn new tools.

I want to still laugh with Katae.

I want to still have a reason to get up and bounce outta bed.

That, to me, sounds much better than the old retirement brochure version of life my late father was sold.

What We Are Really Building in Trat

So what are we building here?

A farm, yes.

A new home, hopefully (with a pool… maybe).

Better soil.

Healthier routines.

A stronger marriage.

Useful businesses.

Community roots.

A more intentional relationship with money.

A life with more physical work and less artificial stress.

A future with more options.

But underneath all of that, we are building a way of living.

One that feels more aligned with who we are now and who we are becoming.

We are not trying to disappear from the world.

We are trying to participate in it differently.

I still love technology. I still love building online. I still love AI, websites, content, digital tools and the strange magic of creating something on a screen that can help people you may never meet.

But I also love the land.

I love the feeling of being tired for a good reason.

I love seeing small improvements compound.

I love the fact that farm work does not care about your clever opinions.

I love that this life keeps both sides of me busy.

The digital builder.

The soil builder.

The man with a Mac.

The man with a machete.

Both are me.

Both are useful.

Both are part of the plan.

Greener Pastures Are Built

Maybe greener pastures are not somewhere you escape to.

Maybe they are something you build.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

With soil, systems, restraint, love, sweat, humour, community and the occasional late night.

For us, that place is Trat.

Not because it is cheap.

Because it gives us room to build something rich.

Rich in time.

Rich in food.

Rich in purpose.

Rich in peace.

Rich in useful work.

Rich in the kind of everyday abundance you cannot always measure on a spreadsheet.

And if I am lucky enough to be here years from now, a little greyer, probably more cantankerous (and enjoying it throughly), still walking the dogs at dawn, still planting trees, still building online, still annoying the chickens and still laughing with Katae, then I will consider that a life very well spent.

Not a life I escaped to.

A life I helped build.

A life less ordinary.

Building a Life We Do Not Need to Retire From