When I was 29, I packed up my life in the U.K. and moved to Vietnam to teach English. With just $3,000 in savings, I wasn't sure how long I could survive in a foreign country, but I was determined to make it work.
I arrived in Ho Chi Minh City on a steamy May evening, the air thick with the smells of street food and exhaust fumes. Weaving through the chaotic traffic on the back of a motorcycle taxi, a duffel bag with my entire life stuffed inside bouncing on my lap, I wondered what I had gotten myself into.
My new roommate, another British teacher, greeted me at the apartment we would share - a modest but tidy place for just $250 per month each, including utilities.
Those first few days were a blur of meeting my new coworkers, lesson planning and getting lost in the dizzying streets and alleys of the city. Money seemed to fly out of my pockets those first couple of weeks—$1 for a banh mi sandwich here, $1 for a Vietnamese iced coffee there, $10 for a stack of photocopied textbooks.
And let's not forget the rent deposit! Back then, I only had to cough up 1 month's rent. I started to panic, wondering how I would stretch my limited funds.
I felt the anxiety of financial uncertainty weighing on me heavily.
That worry followed me through my first few months in Vietnam. Even though I was earning a decent salary of $1,600 per month teaching English, I was haunted by the fear of running out of money in a place where I barely spoke the language and knew no one.
I obsessed over every purchase, from the 30-cent pineapples at the market to the occasional $15 splurge on a Western brunch with friends. I pored over my budget spreadsheet every weekend, calculating and recalculating.
I had a recurring dream where I was down to my last dollar, helpless and alone in a strange place. But slowly, as I found my rhythm in Vietnam, things shifted. I discovered where the locals shopped and ate, where delicious meals could be had for just a dollar or two.
I learned a few vital Vietnamese phrases to help with bargaining. I made friends with my coworkers and neighbours, who taught me their savvy ways of saving money.
The more I adapted and embraced the local way of life, the less I worried about money.
The moment of change came about six months in when I sat down to review my finances and realised I had barely touched my savings. Thanks to my frugal lifestyle, I was living comfortably in Vietnam for just $800 per month, including rent.
I didn't need much to be happy here - good food, good friends, and the occasional weekend trip to the beach or mountains.
A wave of relief washed over me.
I felt empowered and adaptable. Knowing I could thrive on so little and live in Vietnam.
From then on, my experience in Vietnam transformed from financial stress to a joyful embrace of simple living. Instead of agonizing over every dollar, I relaxed into the rhythms and possibilities of my $800/month budget.
I learned I could live a decent life without many expenses and consumer trappings I once thought I needed. My lifestyle was basic but rich with experiences, friendships, and the colourful textures of life in Vietnam.
I realised that I had been living to work back home, but here, I was working to live.
And I was living quite well.
I share this story because it holds an important lesson about defining our needs versus wants and examining the consumerist culture that tells us we always need to earn and spend more.
My experience living as an expat in Vietnam on a shoestring budget taught me I could not only survive but thrive on far less than I ever imagined. It changed my perspective on money and "the good life."
Happiness and fulfilment come more from relationships, experiences, and pursuing my passions than from material things and an impressive income.
Of course, I recognise the privilege inherent in choosing a life of voluntary simplicity, which is not the case for many. But I think there are elements of this approach that many of us can learn from and adapt to our lives.
Identifying what matters brings us joy and focusing our time and resources there. Living below our means and finding contentment in simplicity. Recognising when we have "enough."
Can I leave you with one key takeaway?
You may need far less than you think to live a good life.
Define what that life looks like for you, and don't be afraid to diverge from the dominant narrative to pursue it.
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