I didn’t wake up one morning and suddenly decide to move to Vietnam. The idea had been forming quietly for years — long before I ever packed a suitcase.

During Covid in 2020, like many people, I was isolated at home. My self-employed table tennis coaching work stopped overnight. I had long, empty days in my house and too much time to think.

One question kept coming back to me:

If I wasn’t tied to work anymore, where in the world could my works pension stretch further?  That question planted the seed.

The First Visit – Curiosity

In 2023 I finally came to Vietnam for nearly three weeks. It was a holiday, but it felt different from other trips I’d taken in the past. I loved the place. The energy. The friendliness. The sense of life happening everywhere.

More than anything, I liked the people.  I went home to the UK — but Vietnam stayed in my head.

The following year I returned for another three weeks. I travelled more widely: Sapa, Hanoi, Da Nang, Hoi An and Ho Chi Minh City. From there I flew to Cambodia for six nights and then spent a week in Bangkok.

It was a brilliant trip. I didn’t want to go home. That feeling surprised me. And that was the first time I seriously asked myself:

Could I actually retire and live in Hanoi?

From Holiday to Possibility

There’s a big difference between loving a country on holiday and imagining your everyday life there. Back in the UK, the idea wouldn’t leave me alone. So instead of dismissing it, I started preparing properly.  

In November 2024 I began learning Vietnamese online twice a week. I knew I would never be fluent, but I didn’t want to be the foreigner who expected everyone else to adapt to me. When in someone else's country I feel is is the least you can do to try and learn their language. The more I studied, the more real the idea became. But I also knew something important: enjoying Vietnam wasn’t enough. I needed to test it properly.

The Reconnaissance Trip

In December 2024 and into January 2025, I returned — but this time it wasn’t a holiday.  It was reconnaissance.

Yes, I was wanted to see a Vietnamese lady I had met previously and kept in touch with. But this trip had a purpose. I needed to know whether life here was practical — not just appealing. I treated it differently.  I checked whether I could buy my prescription medication from local chemists. I looked into contact lens supplies, visited a dentist. I found out where the gyms were and even located a table tennis club. These things might sound small, but they are everyday life.

I walked around different parts of Hanoi, trying to imagine where I would feel comfortable living long term.  Tay Ho — where many expats and English teachers live — had obvious advantages. Western food shops, bars, familiar comforts. But it didn’t feel right for me. If I was going to move across the world, I didn’t want to recreate a Western bubble. I wanted Vietnamese culture,  local streets, local food and real immersion. So I ruled Tay Ho out.

That process of walking, observing and quietly deciding what didn’t suit me was just as important as deciding what did.

The Health Question

There was one major issue hanging over everything. I was on the NHS waiting list for a DALK cornea transplant in the UK. Until that operation happened, I couldn’t commit to anything. In January 2025, I finally reached the top of the list and had the surgery. That was the last piece of the jigsaw. With that completed, the practical barrier was removed. For the first time, the move felt genuinely possible. I sometimes describe that moment as the start of “Operation Hanoi.” 

Once the health uncertainty was gone, the countdown began. Flights were booked for April. Accommodation arranged. My self-employed coaching work wrapped up properly. Loose ends tied. It felt organised. Planned. Calm. And then life reminded me that plans are never entirely in our control.

An Unexpected Test

In March, one of my younger brothers died suddenly, leaving three children. It was so unexpeced and a devastating time for the family. Naturally, I began to question everything. Was I doing the right thing? Should I still go? Was it selfish to leave?

My youngest brother made an immediate and extraordinary decision. He and his wife said they would take the three children into their home and raise them alongside their own two. It was a huge commitment.

Watching that unfold was emotional and difficult. But it also gave me clarity. The children would be cared for within the family. My role would still be there as an uncle — but it didn’t require me to abandon the plans I had carefully built and working towards.

Nothing about that period was easy. But eventually although difficult I decided to continue. The plans were in place. My work had finished. The health issue was resolved. The trial visits had answered my practical questions. So I went ahead as planned.

Why the Trial Run Mattered

Looking back, I realise how important those earlier structured visits were.  Without them, the decision in April would have felt reckless. Instead, it felt measured.  During that reconnaissance trip I had:

• Walked potential neighbourhoods.

• Checked medical options.

• Tested whether I could access medication.

• Confirmed everyday services existed.

• Experienced ordinary, uneventful days.

I wasn’t guessing anymore.  And that’s the real purpose of a trial run.  It replaces fantasy with evidence.

The Difference Between Liking and Living

When you’re over 60, this isn’t an experiment in backpacking. It’s a long-term lifestyle choice.  You have to ask:

• Can I see myself here at 70? 

• What about if my mobility changes? 

• Would I feel secure dealing with healthcare here? 

• Does the pace of life suit me beyond the excitement?

On holiday, noise feels vibrant. When you’re living somewhere, noise can feel tiring. On holiday, eating out every night feels special. When you live somewhere, you need supermarkets and routines.  A trial run lets you feel the ordinary.  And if the ordinary feels right, that’s powerful.

By the time I boarded the plane, I wasn’t chasing an idea. I was following a decision that had been thought through properly

Final Thoughts

Retiring abroad over 60 can be one of the most rewarding decisions you make. But it shouldn’t be based on a single enjoyable trip.

Visit with intention.

Live normally while you’re there.

Walk the neighbourhoods.

Check the practicalities.

Notice how you feel when you’re not sightseeing.

And most importantly — give yourself permission to step back if it doesn’t feel right.

For me, a trial run turned curiosity into clarity.

That clarity made the final move possible.

And if you’re considering your own version of “Operation Hanoi” — or anywhere else in the world — that structured trial period might be the most important investment you make.