✈️ Chiang Mai Part 2: Afraid of Dogs but love riding on a 'tuk-tuk' & coffee?

What you’ll find in this issue:

🏖️ Thailand - True Story

_________________________________________ 

The dogs hadn't moved.

Five pairs of eyes watching me. Calculating. I'd read somewhere that you shouldn't run from stray dogs, that running triggers their chase instinct. So, I stood perfectly still, barely breathing, remembering that I'd not had time for my second rabies booster.

 The largest dog--a muscular creature with a torn ear--stood up.

 My pulse thundered in my ears.

 But then a street food vendor emerged from her stall, carrying a plastic container. She walked right past me, completely unconcerned, and began distributing scraps of chicken to the pack. They swarmed her gently, tails wagging, transformed instantly from potential threat to grateful pets.

 She looked back at me and smiled, gesturing that it was safe to pass.

 I walked almost through the middle of them. One sniffed my leg. Another barely glanced up from its meal. The vendor said something in Thai I didn't understand, but her tone was clear: See? Nothing to fear.

I made it home that night with a new understanding--my fears were often bigger than reality.

The next morning, I decided to take some initiative & do something different. I did a search on my phone for a chi gong class, something gentle to ease me into the day. I showed my Google maps to a tuk-tuk driver who didn’t speak a word of English, and off we went.

The ride was exhilarating. So much for a gentle start haha. Wind in my face, the city blurring past in a chaos of color and sound. We wove through traffic with what seemed like reckless abandon but it was probably just a typical Tuesday morning in Chiang Mai….

But then we stopped at a building that didn't match the photo I'd seen online.

I checked the address. This was it, supposedly. The driver nodded enthusiastically and pointed upstairs. So I paid him and climbed the narrow staircase, feeling uncertain.

The room was half full of people on mats.

I was about 2 minutes in, already sweating when I realized it was a beginner yoga class. Not chi gong. Thanks Google ;)

The instructor approached, speaking broken English. I tried to explain--wrong class, maybe wrong place? “So sorry”-but she just smiled, and gently guided me through the next movement.

"Okay, okay," she kept saying. "You stay. You stay."

So I stayed.

And it was wonderful.

I couldn't understand a word of the instruction. I was the only foreigner in the room. My downward dog looked more like a collapsing bridge.

But then something pretty amazing happened--the woman next to me began quietly translating key instructions into broken English. The person in front turned around periodically to demonstrate poses. The instructor came over twice more to adjust my form with gentle hands and an encouraging smile.

They'd absorbed me into their practice without hesitation. Without judgment.

After class two people approached me--a couple in their sixties, both with kind faces and excellent English. Their names were Som and Preecha.

"First time in Chiang Mai?" Som asked.

“First time in Thailand,” I admitted with a smile. I admitted I'd come to the wrong class entirely. They laughed--not at me, but with genuine delight at the serendipity of it.

"This is very Thai," Preecha said. "Wrong place, right experience."

We talked for twenty minutes. They asked about my plans. I confessed I didn't have many - just a vague intention to explore, to figure out what came next in this strange new chapter of life.

But then Som made a suggestion that would lead to another unforgettable experience!

"You should go to Chiang Dao," she said. "In the mountains. Very beautiful. Very peaceful. There's a hot spring there--good for body, good for relax."

I hesitated. A bus journey into the mountains? Alone? I'd barely survived the night market and a pack of street dogs.

Preecha must have seen my doubt. "The bus is easy," he said. "We write down everything for you. Which bus, where to get off, what to see. Thai people are helpful--you just ask."

He pulled out a small notebook and began writing in both Thai and English. Bus numbers. Landmarks. Even a few key phrases.

Som touched my arm. "You didn't plan to come yoga today," she said. "But you come. And it was good, yes?"

She was right.

So the next morning I found myself at the bus station, clutching Preecha's notes like a talisman.

The bus was packed. I squeezed into a seat next to a woman with a basket of vegetables.

There was no air conditioning, just a load of large fans on the shiny mirror-like roof of the bus.

We rattled north up a beautiful, winding road through increasingly lush, dark green countryside, higher and higher, up into the mountains. It was honestly breathtaking.

I should have been uncomfortable. Anxious.

But then I looked around and realized everyone else was completely at ease--chatting, some laughing, sharing food. The woman next to me smiled at me a couple of times & the beautiful view distracted me from the heat & fan noise!

Chiang Dao appeared like something from a dream, honestly. Mountains rose dramatically from the valley floor, shrouded in mist. The air was cooler here, cleaner. I followed Preecha's instructions to a hot spring, walking along a path that wound through the tallest plants I’d ever seen with huge leaves that must have been a meter across.

The spring itself was perfect. Natural pools of mineral-rich water in wooden barrels, steam rising into the canopy above. I soaked for about forty minutes, feeling tension I didn't know I'd been carrying dissolve into the heat.

But then, just before I climbed out, a couple of girls maybe in their thirties, smiling brightly, struck up a conversation with me.

They found out I didn’t have my own transport so one of them suggested they take me on their motor scooter for some coffee.

I had no idea how safe it would be for the three of us to ride on a single scooter but I’d seen whole families doing it in the city. Probably safer up here I thought.

So I did what I'd been learning to do in Thailand: I smiled and said yes.

We flew down mountain roads (not recommended without a helmet), me clinging to the back of the scooter seat with both hands, my heart in my throat but a ridiculous grin on my face. They took me to a roadside cafe I never would have found on my own--it was set back from the road. A small hut with just one table & a bench in front of it, and an elderly lady brewing the coffee.

But then I tasted it.

It was the best coffee I'd ever had in my life. Rich, complex, with notes of ...God only knows but it was good! Made right there on the side of the road by someone who'd probably been making it the same way for forty years.

The girls who'd brought me--I don’t remember their names--refused payment for the ride so of course I paid for our coffees. About ten minutes in, they said their goodbyes (one had a birthday celebration to host at her own cafe elsewhere), smiled, waved, and drove off, leaving me standing there with my coffee, not far from the bus stop, completely bewildered by the casual kindness of strangers.

The experience got me thinking about something important.

I'd spent so much of my life in the UK being self-sufficient. Independent. Not wanting to bother anyone or be bothered. But here, in this strange and overwhelming place, I was learning to accept help. To trust. To say yes to invitations I didn't fully understand.

And every time I did, something wonderful happened.

The bus ride back to Chiang Mai felt different. I wasn't just a tourist anymore, not quite. I was someone who'd ventured into the mountains, bathed in hot springs, and been taken on an impromptu adventure by kind strangers.

But then, as the bus pulled into the station and I prepared to return to my apartment, I felt a familiar ache in my left leg.

The nerve damage. The weakness I'd been living with for two years. The limp I'd accepted as permanent.

It had been bothering me more since I arrived--all the walking, the heat, the unfamiliar terrain.

So I decided I needed to do something about it.

And that decision would lead me to Pan…

[To be continued in Part 3...]

You can read part 1 to this story here, thanks for reading!

⭐ Featured Retirement haven

If Chiang Dao is Northern Thailand's quiet soul, Chiang Mai is its bright, slightly chaotic, endlessly charming heartbeat.

Temples. Night markets. Coffee shops with better latte art than London. Sprawling mountains & jungle just 30 minutes away. It's no wonder so many people come ‘for a week’ and are still here three winters later.

This isn't a checklist. It's what happens when you put all the must-see spots into a single, very human Chiang Mai daydream—especially if you're 50+ and not interested in bungee jumping off anything;)

You can see Wat Phra That Doi Suthep sparkling above the city from almost anywhere in town. It's Chiang Mai's diva temple—and it deserves the attention.

You wind your way up the mountain road (or let a red songthaew taxi do the work), then climb the naga staircase… slowly. No rush. There are plenty of places to stop, breathe, and pretend you're just ‘admiring the view.’

At the top: a golden chedi that glows even on cloudy days, monks chanting softly in the background, and a sweeping view of the entire city, tiny and hazy below. Come early morning or late afternoon and you'll understand why every guide calls this a must-see.

Inside the crumbling brick walls and moat of the Old City, life slows down just enough for you to notice the details.

You wander shady backstreets and suddenly there's Wat Chedi Luang, a massive brick chedi that's been standing since the 1400s. A monk in bright orange robes walks past a 7-Eleven like it's the most normal thing in the world. Bells chime, people chatter in both Thai & English, scooters buzz by.

Within a few blocks you can stumble across classics like Wat Phra Singh, Wat Chiang Man, and a dozen little neighborhood temples nobody puts on lists but that end up being your favourites anyway.

By day, Chiang Mai is gentle. By night, it turns into a glowing maze of markets that smell of pad thai, grilled chicken, incense, and trouble (the good kind).

Take your pick: the Sunday Walking Street market that takes over the Old City, the slightly more local Saturday market on Wua Lai Road, or the classic Night Bazaar on the east side of town.

You weave past artists selling their own paintings, and vendors with wooden carvings, coconut bowls, wax flowers, herbal balms, and clothing at their stalls, and then the food, oh the street food!

Mango sticky rice, grilled skewers of chicken, red peppers and pineapple, and mango sticky rice. You tell yourself you'll ‘just look.’ You will not ‘just look.’

When you're not temple-hopping or chasing waterfalls, Chiang Mai is really, really good at one thing: slow life.

Outside the old center, in the trendy Nimmanhaemin area—Nimman for short—café culture is practically a religion. Huge lattes in ceramic cups, leafy plants everywhere, people reading, writing, or happily doing absolutely nothing productive at all.

If you're 50+ and thinking about retiring overseas, this is where you look around and think: ‘I could do this. I could absolutely do this.’

Side note:
Coffee has become a hobby of mine - tasting some of the best coffee I’ve ever had in Thailand has contributed to this!

I must have drunk thousands of flat whites in cafes around the world, most not as good as those in Thailand to be honest. It never gets old…

Except when I try to make it at home haha;)

I’ll have to share some of my latte art disasters with you soon. As long as it tastes good, right? I’ll also share my favourite coffee roaster just outside Chiang Mai for the perfect, freshly roasted coffee sitting right on the Ping river.

Watch this space.

Imagine this: mornings with temple bells and a leafy backstreet walk in the Old City. Late mornings with a second coffee in Nimman, watching the world go by. Afternoons that somehow turn into a massage, a nap, or both. Evenings wandering a night market with a plate of something delicious in your hand.

The big sites—Doi Suthep, Old City temples, elephants, Doi Inthanon, the markets—are absolutely worth seeing. But what really hooks people isn't a single attraction. It's the rhythm. The way life here runs just a little softer, a little slower, a little kinder to your nervous system. It does you so much good!

Chiang Mai gives you all the temples and culture you could ever want, jungle and waterfalls as easy day trips, and coffee shops that make ‘retired but still curious’ feel like an aesthetic, not an age.

It's big enough to be interesting, small enough to be human. And whether you're visiting for a week—or quietly scoping it out as your next long-stay base—one thing's almost guaranteed: you'll leave already planning the next time you come back.

Thinking of checking out Chiang Mai for yourself? Start with a few days in the Old City, add one temple day (Doi Suthep), one nature or elephant day, and one evening just wandering the markets. If you fall a little bit in love with the place… don't say I didn’t warn you!

Walk After Every Meal (Even Just 10 Minutes)

Easy to do in Thailand! Eating out is often cheaper overseas, particularly in Chiang Mai where walking to and from a simple side street restaurant is not only a lovely experience but also incredibly cheap!

Chicken & cashews or “pad krapow gai” (another chicken dish with sweet thai basil) with a side portion of rice is just 60-70 Baht (around $2 US ) in Chiang Mai, for example, for a good-sized portion too.

Retirement. It’s a time for relaxation, certainly, but for many, it also brings a quiet yearning for purpose, a desire to continue contributing…

You’ve lived a life rich with experiences, honed skills, and accumulated a treasure trove of practical knowledge.

What if I told you there’s a simple, rewarding way to share that wisdom, make a tangible impact, and even earn a little something on the side – all without becoming a tech wizard?

This isn't about starting a complex business or spending hours glued to a screen. It's about leveraging the incredible power of your life experience, combined with a touch of modern technology, to create something truly valuable for the next generation.

Think about it:

These aren't just hobbies; they're invaluable "how-to" guides waiting to be shared. In a world often focused on the new and shiny, there's a profound hunger for authentic, time-tested wisdom.

You possess that wisdom, and frankly, you have a responsibility to pass it on.

This isn't complicated. Here’s the straightforward approach:

This isn't a full-time job; it's a fulfilling endeavor. Imagine dedicating just a couple of hours a week – perhaps an hour to record a video or write a guide, and another hour to use AI for refinement and then upload. That's it.

The impact, however, can be immense. You'll be teaching, inspiring, and guiding countless individuals who are eager to learn from someone with real-world experience. You'll be leaving a legacy of practical knowledge, ensuring that valuable skills and traditions aren't lost.

Your wisdom is a gift. It's time to unwrap it and share it with the world. The tools are simpler than ever, and the need for your unique perspective has never been greater. Start small, share what you know, and rediscover a profound sense of purpose in your retirement.

If you decide to create a newsletter and/or blog, click here for a discounted trial on Beehiiv. Good luck!