I’m a traveler, not a settler. My life has been defined by skyscrapers and subway maps. So why, in the middle of my blissful era in Thailand, am I suddenly concerned with the idea of retirement?
As someone who has lived and worked abroad for 20 years in mega-cities like Dubai, London, Johannesburg, and Hong Kong, the question of where to eventually put down roots is never far from my mind.
It’s a topic that gains weight with every passing year — and one that’s become impossible to ignore here in Phuket, a place that sells itself as a “permanent vacation” to expats of all kinds: digital nomads like myself, wealthy property buyers, and retirees.
I relocated to the island last year, seeking and finding a much-needed change of pace following five stressful years in Hong Kong. These days, my life is framed by majestic limestone cliffs jutting out of turquoise waters, the scent of street food mingling in the humid air, and a culture where smiling is a default setting.
It is, by any measure, a privilege. I live in one of the most beautiful and exotic countries in the world, where I feel safe, where my cost of living is manageable, and where daily life is infused with a sense of ease.
The Thai retirement dream
This ease is a major draw for a specific demographic: the foreign retiree.
Thailand has long been a go-to destination for those looking to stretch their pensions and spend their golden years in paradise. The country actively attracts them through a variety of accessible visa options.
If you’re over 50, you can opt for the Non-Immigrant O-A (Long Stay) visa, renewable yearly, or, if you hail from one of 14 specific countries, including the US and UK, you might qualify for the Non-Immigrant O-X visa, which offers an initial five-year stay. The appeal makes total sense to me. Who wouldn’t want eternal summer, affordable healthcare, and a life that feels like a permanent vacation?
I see it. I understand it. And yet, for me, it’s not the plan. At 41, retirement feels like a distant horizon — both far off and startlingly real. At this stage, I don’t know exactly when the finish line will be or what the final milestone even is.
However, when I told an expat friend I was moving to Phuket, her instant response was, “OMG, that’s my retirement plan! You’re so lucky!” The comment gave me pause. It revealed a common assumption: that life in a place like this is essentially a finale.
But my Thai chapter is not a sleepy early retirement by any means. I’m a working editor and journalist, more energized than ever, telling local stories to global audiences from my hilltop balcony overlooking luscious jungles with monkeys and squirrels. In fact, I feel, much like Taylor Swift, that I still have multiple “eras” left in me. Thailand is my current era, but by no means my last.
The truth is, the topic of retirement stirs a quiet anxiety in me. Expat life, for all its glory, is manic. It’s a cycle of building a home, learning a culture and its quirks, navigating bureaucracy, and forging connections, all with the unspoken understanding that it might all just be temporary.
I might not know what the future holds, but I know myself enough to know I will crave something different. I’ll want to be done with visa runs and residency permits. I’ll want to stop explaining where I’m from. I will want to simply be.
Returning to my roots
For me, “being” will happen back where I started: South Africa. This often surprises people. The narrative is usually one of escaping colder climates or economic hardship for sunnier, cheaper shores.
I am fortunate. I’ll get to return to profound beauty. South Africa is, in my utterly biased opinion, one of the most stunning countries on earth. My vision for my 70s and 80s is not a Thai beachfront condo, but a cozy seaside retreat in the Western Cape, where the mountains meet the sea along the southern tip of Africa, where it all began for me.
This decision is about more than just the stunning scenery, good weather, and exceptional wine, however. It’s about roots. Expat life teaches you brutal and beautiful lessons about human connection.
You meet thousands of interesting people in many places, but those friendships often only exist in the transient fire of shared foreignness. People come and go with contract jobs and new plans.
While I’ve made a handful of lifelong friends on this journey, the experience has reinforced the irreplaceable nature of family and deep-rooted community. In my youth, I was desperate to get away. But in my older years, I believe I’ll want to go back, to be known, to remember. I want to be near family, not out of obligation, but for deep comfort and unconditional belonging.
I’m hoping to see my homeland not as a place I left, but as a place I choose to return to. That full-circle moment feels like the ultimate luxury to me.
So, for now, I am deeply, actively happy in Thailand. I soak up every moment of this chapter. Even if my paradise is a temporary one.
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