Ageless Expat

21/07/2025

In a follow-up to yesterday’s post:

They chose a particularly picturesque start/finish location for the race—on the banks of the Mekong River in an area called Pai Dai. During the dry season, massive rocks and sandbanks are exposed here, but with all the recent rain, the river was hiding its secrets beneath a deceptively calm surface. We arrived early, before the crowds, and I was able to get a few quiet shots.

Unfortunately, race morning brought heavy rain. The organizers kept delaying the start, hoping the weather would improve. In the end, it was a very wet, muddy, and slippery course—through forest, up and down steep terrain. My wife completed her 30 km run despite a nagging leg pain that had us seriously questioning the day before whether she should even start. I’ve seen some video footage of just how rough it was out there, so I’m especially impressed with how well she did.

The day before the race, we also visited a friend’s Pomelo farm—a highlight for me. It’s one of my favorite fruits, and we missed the harvest last year, so it was great to catch up. I took video for my wife, but I’ll just post some photos here today.

20/07/2025

Yesterday was a good day.
The sun came out just as we headed 80km from home to pick up my wife’s race bib. One of her friends has a pomelo farm in that area, so we took the opportunity to stop by. It's still a few weeks before peak harvest, but we were lucky enough to come away with 40+ beautiful fruits—expertly selected and hand-picked right off the trees. (Those photos will likely show up in another post.)

After dropping my wife at her hotel for the night, I made the solo drive home to tend to our animals—with a car full of pomelo in the back and time to take the scenic route.

Instead of the highway, I took the winding mountain road through a quiet valley, stopping here and there for photos. A few stretches of road were still under repair, reduced to a single makeshift lane, but nothing impassable.

The Ing River was running high and well over its banks, but from what I could see from the bridge, no homes were affected. The final photo from the day is of a tortoise I found smack in the middle of a curve on the mountain road. I stopped to carry him to safety—and of course, I took a picture first.

16/07/2025

The snail collectors were out in force this morning.

14/07/2025

Each new dawn brings with it a new view of the world around me. This morning is dark, moody, and very wet.

07/07/2025

Conversations on the Edge of the Party

My wife and I were invited to a birthday party the other evening — a lively and eclectic mix of people. A few school-age kids, a couple of university students, the usual crowd of older expats with Thai wives, one Western couple, and a guy in his 30s who turned out to be the father of one of the younger girls. One gentleman volunteered he was 80, making him the oldest there. A few of us were in our 70s, the rest mainly in their 60s. A Thai pianist and a singer rounded out the gathering.

As usual, I found myself drawn to the outliers — those who didn’t quite fit the mold. I ended up in conversation with the Western woman, long married and living overseas, and the younger single father I cornered alone on the balcony, who was juggling a health-focused lifestyle, a startup business, and raising his daughter. I only missed talking to a few people who kept to themselves — no obvious opening.

I also couldn’t help noticing the sea of wine glasses and the generous flow of food — everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Meanwhile, I sipped water all evening. I have never been a drinker, and I steer clear of late meals — having anything substantial after 2 p.m. typically leaves me with a restless night. Still, I won’t lie — the aromas wafting from the buffet were tantalizing.

It was a relief to avoid the standard retiree small talk. I often struggle with those conversations. The stories are familiar — ex-wives and distant families, careers that still seem to define them, and lots of comparisons. Topics tend to orbit around pensions, insurance, politics, food, alcohol, or sports. The opening lines are predictable: Where are you from? and How long have you been here?

That’s when I throw a spanner in the works. "Nearly fifty years full-time in Thailand," I say — and you can almost hear the mental gears grind to a halt. For someone who thinks of themselves as an old-timer after 10 or 15 years, it doesn’t quite compute.

After all, I look like them — older, bald, carrying a little extra weight, and yes, with a younger Thai wife. But appearances are deceptive. We may look the same on the surface, but our lives have taken very different paths.

Which is why you’ll usually find me on the fringes of these gatherings, drawn to the outliers — those whose stories surprise me, who aren’t repeating the same narratives. Sometimes the wives are interesting to talk to as well, but that’s a careful line to walk. Too much interest can awaken the jealous ghosts of comparison and insecurity.

My wife and I had come in separate cars that night — she had an early morning trail run scheduled in the mountains and wanted a quick getaway. By the time we were ready to leave, the rain was still coming down hard. Her car was parked closer, so she dropped me off at mine, and I found myself alone on the road — in the dark, in a downpour — for my first night driving experience with my new eyes.

To my surprise, it went better than expected. No real glare, and visibility was actually clearer than it had been with glasses. A small but satisfying test passed — and a reminder that while some things stay the same, others really do change for the better.

Send a message to learn more

27/06/2025

Thunder, Frogs, and Floodwaters

Sleep was hard to come by last night, with thunder rolling like a freight train through the valley—deep, echoing, and seemingly endless. The frogs, undeterred, launched into a full-throated chorus, calling out to mates and celebrating the rising waters.

We awoke to a familiar scene: rice fields transformed into a vast, shimmering expanse—more like a lake than farmland. It's become an annual occurrence—newly planted fields temporarily vanishing beneath the floodwaters. Bad news for the rice crop, perhaps, but also a cue for the neighborhood to shift gears. Boots, umbrellas, and fishing nets come out, and the sounds of laughter and voices drift from across the water.

I don’t have boots myself, so I just wandered around the yard and driveway with my camera this morning. Here are a few glimpses of life after the rain.

20/06/2025

A quiet celebration, just for the two of us.
Last year we threw a party — this year, with everything moving so fast, we chose something more peaceful, healthy, and just for us.

We started with lunch at our favorite restaurant, then spent the afternoon at a lovely new spa near the Blue Temple, not far from the river. Beautiful surroundings, relaxing atmosphere, and some much-needed pampering.

It’s still new, but I have a feeling we’ll be back very soon.

16/06/2025

Seeing Clearly Again

My doctor told me to stay away from the gym for a few weeks, so it’s only recently that I’ve started working out again. That means I’ve been driving into town more often — and today, on the way home, I felt inspired to stop and take a few photos.

These are sights I pass all the time, so it’s easy to overlook them, or not really see them at all.

But after a good workout and a nice chat with a young Thai guy I sometimes run into at the gym, I found myself feeling more centered and present than usual. I’m also getting used to seeing the world more clearly — literally — through my new eyes.

So I decided to take advantage of the mood and the moment, and share a little of what I saw today with you.

03/06/2025

This passport stamp is 50 years old — and so is my Thai story.

Fifty years ago this month, I stepped off a plane in Bangkok and unknowingly began the rest of my life.
I was still a student then, working part-time at Air Siam, and curious about the world.

I only stayed for 8 days.
But that short visit — stamped into my old passport on June 8, 1975 — turned out to be the beginning of the rest of my life.

After graduating in 1977, I moved to Thailand for good.
At the time, General Kriangsak Chomanan had just taken power. The U.S. military had been asked to leave. The Vietnam War was over, but the region was still tense and uncertain. Thailand was finding its footing — and so was I.

Since then, I’ve lived through something like six coups (I stopped keeping count).
I used to think there wouldn’t be any more after that long break in the ’90s. Then, while visiting my parents in Hawaii, I watched Thaksin get removed in real time. Thailand, it turns out, keeps you on your toes.

I spent my first 20 years here single, figuring things out, working, wandering, watching.
Then I met someone amazing. We’ve now been married 28 years — and shared a life full of learning, change, and quiet joys.

I lived in Bangkok for 30 years, watching it transform from a hazy, sprawling, chaotic capital into a regional powerhouse. Then I moved to Chiang Rai, where the pace is slower, the sky is bigger, and there’s time to reflect.

In those five decades, I’ve seen a lot:

The Thammasat massacre in 1976
Black May in 1992
The 1997 financial crash
The rise and fall of parties, generals, and prime ministers
And an entire generation grow up online
But through all the turmoil, Thailand has stayed itself — sometimes infuriating, sometimes inspiring, often both at once.

And somehow, all these years later, I’m still here.
Still grateful.
Still curious.
Still surprised by what tomorrow might bring.

Some of you have known me through much of this journey.
If we’ve ever crossed paths — shared a moment, a conversation, or a meal — I’d love to hear what you remember.

Thanks for reading.
And thanks, Thailand, for everything.

01/06/2025

“A quick health update — and a clear view ahead”

I’ve just had cataract surgery on both eyes — and I’m seeing the world in a whole new light. Literally.

It’s a strange thing to realize how much your vision has faded, slowly and silently, until it’s suddenly clear again. I hadn’t noticed how dim or hazy things had become — until they weren’t. Now, the colors are brighter, the whites are whiter, and details I hadn’t seen in years are suddenly back in focus. It’s like someone cleaned the windows on the world.

I had a newer type of lens implanted called Tecnis PureSee — designed not just to replace a clouded lens, but to provide a wide range of focus. For me, that means I can see distance, midrange, and most close-up tasks without glasses. The results have been better than I hoped. No pain, very little downtime, and a remarkable sense of having something precious restored.

At my doctor’s recommendation, I chose to have the surgery under full anesthesia, with a full surgical team present. It meant going into a hospital setting rather than a clinic, and while it took longer to come out from under than the surgery itself, it gave me peace of mind. The extra precautions felt worthwhile — less chance of infection, less chance of movement during the procedure, and a sense of calm going in. I’m glad I went that route.

Both surgeries were done in Chiang Mai, about a week apart. The procedure itself took maybe 20 minutes. I stayed overnight each time for a next-day follow-up, and I was well taken care of throughout. My wife drove me, helped me through the healing process, and offered the kind of steady support that makes everything easier. I’m grateful — to her, to my doctor, and to the quiet brilliance of modern medicine.

Cataract surgery is one of the most common procedures in the world, and also one of the most successful. Still, many people put it off. Maybe they think their vision isn’t "bad enough yet," or they’re nervous about the idea of surgery on their eyes. I get that. But if you're at the point where your vision is interfering with daily life, or you just want to stop squinting at the world, it’s absolutely worth looking into.

For me, it wasn’t just about seeing better. It was about feeling more connected to the world again. And I didn’t realize how much I’d been missing until it came back.

Send a message to learn more

25/04/2025

Perhaps it's time for an update—I've been pretty quiet for a while.

Last year was all about the knee. After months of experimenting with different treatments, I managed to get back nearly full range of motion and, more importantly, no pain. Feeling good, I started taking longer walks again and even jogged up to the dam a few times. But, as things go, I suspect the knee recovery threw off my alignment just enough to cause trouble in my opposing hip. That, unfortunately, brought the hikes to a halt.

Now I’m a few months into sorting out this new chapter—hip pain. I’ve tried gym machines, mobility and flexibility work, massage, physio, and even a few different medications, which seem to be helping.

Thinking my back might be contributing to the issue, I went looking for a more supportive place to sit than the old sofa. That’s when I came across something called the Perfect Chair. It looked promising, so I ordered one… and a few months later, three boxes showed up at my door.

Now, a more methodical person might have opened all the packages and reviewed the manuals before jumping into assembly. That’s not me. I dove right in and, predictably, had to undo and redo things when the order turned out to matter. On the plus side, I now know exactly how this chair goes together.

The result? Totally worth it. The adjustability and comfort are incredible—and it actually looks pretty good, too.

Here’s hoping this is another step toward healing. A few photos included for the curious!

17/04/2025

Not exactly what I was expecting in the depths of the burning season but I will take it. I have learned to expect the unexpected.