✈️ I Went to Thailand to Heal My Leg and Ended Up Rewriting My Life.. (🇹🇭 Thailand Special: Part 4)

What you’ll find in this issue:

🏖️ Thailand - True Story

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My flight back to the UK was in three days.
I was chilling on my balcony in one of those cute elephant chairs, watching the sunset paint Chiang Mai, when a weird feeling hit me: dread.

Not the usual ‘pre-flight jitters’ kind of dread. Something much bigger.

The "oh no, back to the same old same old" dread. Slipping back into routine, the gray skies, the slow fade into nothingness that retirement seemed to promise.

So, I did a crazy thing.

I grabbed my laptop and changed my flight.
I didn’t cancel it – I’m not that brave – but I pushed it back.

Two more weeks in Thailand.
Time to see what else this wild country had in store for me.

But then, right on cue, the doubts crashed the party.

What on earth was I thinking?
This was ridiculous. Irresponsible.

I had a perfectly good flat in Newark, UK. Friends who’d be wondering if I’d been abducted by aliens. A life that made sense, even if it had stopped making me happy.

I spent that night pacing my apartment, my newly strong leg carrying me back and forth.
Every sensible reason to go home, every logical argument to stop this madness, lined up neatly in my mind.

And yet…

When morning came, I stuck with the new flight.

The next two weeks felt like a life I’d forgotten was even possible.

I took a cooking class and finally learned to make thai green curry in a big wok without setting my hair on fire …

Noi, my instructor, who had the patience of a saint, taught me that the secret wasn’t just the ingredients.

It was trusting the process. Letting things develop without constantly fussing.

“Same as life,” she said, watching me awkwardly make the green curry paste by hand with a pestle and mortar -my first time since science class! “Sometimes you just go one step at a time.”

Over the next few weeks, I met all sorts of expats and locals, mostly in “coffee shops” as they’re usually referred to, due to my love of coffee, including an American who had opened his own donut shop - I went there for the coffee (mocha was incredible!)

We’d grab coffee, trade stories, compare mess-ups and small wins.

They were in their thirties, forties, seventies, and everything in between, and from many different countries.

And it hit me: none of them talked about their lives as being “over” or “winding down.”

They talked about projects. Plans. Dreams. What I like to refer to as “a second chapter”
They were learning languages, starting businesses (including donut shops lol), falling in love, making art (possibly also “falling in art” and “making love”;).

Retirement wasn’t an ending for them. It was a happy escape!

So I started asking myself a very awkward question: what did I actually want?

The answer didn’t arrive in a flash.
It came in pieces.

I wanted to wake up not knowing exactly how the day would unfold.
I wanted to mess up foreign phrases, get lost in new neighborhoods, and stumble into unexpected coffee shops.

I wanted to be challenged. A bit uncomfortable. Properly surprised.

I wanted that same feeling I’d had when Pan’s hands woke something up in my leg – that sense of possibility, of hidden paths opening, of strength I’d assumed was gone forever just stretching and yawning.

But then another question showed up. One I wasn’t prepared for.

Was Chiang Mai the only place that could make me feel like this?

Or had Thailand simply shown me what was possible – a template I could carry anywhere?

So, I started digging.

I found these amazing retiree communities scattered all over the globe.

Vietnam. Portugal. Spain. Mexico. Malaysia. The Philippines.

Each with its own vibe, its own culture, its own tempting mix of adventure and affordability.

I devoured blogs. Joined forums.
Talked to people who’d lived in multiple countries and had the stories (and scars) to prove it.

I learned about visas, cost of living, healthcare systems.
All the unsexy details that quietly decide whether a dream is possible.

And slowly, a new question took shape:

What if I didn’t have to choose just one place?

I used to think settling down was the goal. Build a life, find routines, know which streets flood in the rain. I did that in Chiang Mai, and it was good. A temporary life, but a life all the same.

Then I started questioning everything. Every assumption I’d made, every limitation I’d quietly agreed to. My leg, which doctors said was permanently damaged, kept improving. Slowly, imperfectly, but undeniably. I was willing to let Pan’s hands work their magic because I’d run out of other options. And it worked.

So why on earth would I assume Chiang Mai was the only answer?

I went back to the UK two weeks later, not to settle, but to prepare. My friends thought I’d lost it. "You look different," one said. "You're standing differently. Moving differently. You look… alive."

Alive. That was it. Exactly. "I am," I said. "And I want to stay that way."

So I sorted through my stuff, rented out my flat, and researched my next destination. I’m not telling you where I’m going yet. Partly because I’m still choosing, partly because the destination isn’t the main point.

The point is: I’m going.

Thailand reminded me of something I’d forgotten: life is meant to be lived (something my Dad liked to say actually), not endured. Retirement isn’t about stopping; it’s about starting. It’s about finally having the freedom to ask what you actually want.

Thailand was special not just because it was Thailand, but because I’d arrived willing to be changed by it. Willing to get uncomfortable, trust strangers, to say yes to invitations I barely understood- and mostly stay out of trouble;)

The real question wasn't, "Should I retire to Thailand?" The real question is: "Am I willing to be uncomfortable enough to find out what I’m actually capable of?"

Here’s what I know now: My leg is strong now and the so-called doctors couldn’t figure it out, even the specialists. After this first adventure in Chiang Mai, my appetite for adventure was bigger than I’d ever given it credit for. My ability to adapt, connect, and thrive in unfamiliar places? I’d completely underestimated that. And if I was wrong about all that… what else might I be wrong about?

So I decided that I was going to find out. I was going to test whether the magic of Chiang Mai was unique, or whether I carried it with me now – this new willingness to embrace uncertainty, trust the process, and let life surprise me.

Maybe my next destination would be even better. Maybe not. Maybe I’d end up back in Chiang Mai. But I’d already decided that that was the adventure, and I was going to pursue it.

This isn’t just my story. It could be yours. Whatever "damage" you think is permanent – it’s probably not. It’s not too late to choose differently. To book the ticket. To say yes to the invitation. To trust that discomfort is part of the process, not proof you’ve made a terrible mistake.

The world is full of places that will challenge you, heal you, surprise you, and remind you what it feels like to be fully alive.

So here’s my question for you:

What are you waiting for? What fear is keeping you from the life you actually want? What would you do if you knew you couldn’t fail?

Because here’s what I’ve learned: The biggest risk isn’t trying something new and having it not work out. The biggest risk is never trying at all.

Before Chiang Mai, I’d missed the feeling of being alive in a way I’d forgotten was even possible! So I chased that feeling. Seeing where else it might lead me. And I’m inviting you to consider doing the same.

Because that feeling? That’s not fear. That’s life calling you back. And it’s worth answering.

With gratitude from… well, you’ll find out soon enough,
-Rich

Did you hear about the retiree in his 60s who moved to Spain to travel light?
He ended up shipping 12 boxes of “things I might need someday.”

Poor sleep accelerates aging, increases dementia risk, and weakens immunity.

Make your bedroom a sleep sanctuary—blackout curtains, cool temperature, no screens an hour before bed.

You may need a fan or a gentle aircon in places like Thailand of course!

Remember, this stuff is worth the effort - we’re just getting started on our second chapter life:)