I knew Bangkok would be cheaper than New York. I didn't expect it to feel so much kinder.

It was easier to leave our New York life than we thought it would be.

My partner, James, and I had both lived there since the ’90s.

But downtown Manhattan had lost both its appeal and its affordability.

The spike in hate crimes against Asian and LGBTQ+ communities also left us feeling unsafe.

I was already working remotely for a New York literary magazine and freelancing on the side, while James had left his design job at a consulting firm, so we were no longer tied to the city for work.

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Two years ago, after we were approved for Thailand’s five-year visa for remote workers, we packed up the life we’d built together over 17 years in New York — I’d been living in the city for 31 years.

We squeezed everything into a basement storage unit, rented out our studio apartment in downtown Manhattan, and moved to Thailand.

The rental income now helps cover the mortgage, though we still pay the monthly common charges.

Although we’d bought an apartment in Bangkok in 2021, I’d never imagined living outside the US.

We arrived in Bangkok at the end of that year.

Our one-bedroom apartment wasn’t much bigger than our New York studio, but the building had plenty of shared spaces, from a glass-enclosed conference room in the lobby to an infinity pool on the roof deck.

We woke to real birds singing along the Chao Phraya River instead of the recorded birdsong James had programmed as our morning alarm back in New York.

We hadn’t bought the apartment with a permanent move in mind.

James, who grew up in Thailand and went to college in Bangkok, thought it made more sense to have our own place than stay with friends whenever we visited his family.

He also wanted a home that his widowed mother, who lived in southern Thailand, could use.

Instead of easily paying $30 for takeout for two in Manhattan’s Financial District, I now buy two orders of khao man gai, or chicken ginger rice, from the mom-and-pop restaurant across the street for 100 baht, or about $3.

The owner was patient when I first stumbled through my takeout order.

Once she realized I was becoming a regular, though, she insisted I say it in Thai.

She stood outside the restaurant, repeating each word until I got it right, even during the lunch rush.

I appreciated her taking the time to teach me.

For dinner, we often head to a nearby night market, then carry home crispy roti to eat on our balcony while watching the neon-lit dinner boats cruise along the river.

We always say we’ll buy tickets for one someday, but we never do.

We prefer the spectacle from a distance.

Day-to-day, we spend less than $15 eating out and about $60 a week on groceries.

A recent dental cleaning cost me less than $50 out of pocket, a box of Bausch + Lomb daily contact lenses was under $10, and the fade I get every two weeks at a local barber costs less than $6.

What surprised me most, though, wasn’t just how much less expensive Bangkok was — it was how much kinder it felt.

Even in the brutal heat, people are patient.

And despite occasionally seeing an entire family — including an infant and the family dog — balanced on a single motorcycle like a daredevil circus act, the city somehow feels gentler than New York ever did.

With each passing day, New York feels a little farther away.

When my visa expires, we’ll probably move back.

For now, I’m not thinking that far ahead.

I’m focused on the life we’ve built here and the emotional and mental reset it has provided.

James’s one regret is that his mother, Pikun — named after a Thai flower — never got to stay in the Bangkok apartment we bought in part for her.

On our first trip back to Thailand after she died, we took a taxi from the airport to our new home.

As we drove through the city, I spotted a storefront with the words “Pikun Silver” above the entrance.

We live near Bangkok’s gem and jewelry district.

Seeing her name at that moment felt like a sign that she was with us, welcoming us home.

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