Finding Peace in Isan: Our Unforgettable Farm Stay Adventure

Photo by You Le on Unsplash

At 62 and 65, my husband Tom and I have done our share of traveling. European river cruises, Caribbean beaches, guided tours through Asia’s famous cities. But nothing prepared us for the profound experience of our ten-day **farmstay in Thailand**, specifically on a working farm in Isan, the country’s northeastern region.

We discovered this opportunity through a friend who’d visited years ago. Isan isn’t on most tourist itineraries, which is exactly what appealed to us. We wanted something authentic, unhurried, and far from the crowds.

Our host family welcomed us like long-lost relatives. The farm, located outside a small village near Ubon Ratchathani, sprawled across several acres of rice fields, vegetable gardens, and fruit orchards. Our accommodation was a traditional wooden house on stilts, surprisingly comfortable with a proper bathroom and even air conditioning for the hottest afternoons.

The daily routine became our favorite part. Mornings began with the roosters at dawn. We’d join our hosts for simple breakfasts of rice soup or sticky rice with grilled fish. Then came the farmwork, adapted thoughtfully to our abilities. I helped tend the vegetable garden and feed the chickens, while Tom assisted with irrigation and learning traditional farming techniques.

What touched us most was the genuine warmth of rural Thai hospitality. Our hosts spoke limited English, and our Thai was practically nonexistent, yet we communicated through smiles, gestures, and the universal language of shared meals. The grandmother taught me to prepare som tam (papaya salad) and larb, grinding ingredients in a massive mortar and pestle.

Evenings were magical. We’d sit outside as the sun set over the rice paddies, the sky turning brilliant shades of orange and pink. Neighbors would stop by, curious about the foreign visitors. Through our hosts’ translation, we shared stories about our lives, our grown children, our hopes for retirement.

The slower pace was initially challenging for us, always used to packed schedules. But by day three, we found ourselves genuinely relaxing. No agenda, no pressure, just living in the moment.

We left Isan with full hearts and a different understanding of wealth. These farmers, with their modest homes and simple lives, possessed something we’d been chasing for years: contentment, community, and connection to the land. It’s a lesson we’ll carry forward, and a place we’re already planning to revisit.