A single decision can change everything.
For us, that moment came when we chose to transform our home—not just for ourselves, but for others.
It wasn’t just about remodeling.
It was about rethinking how we lived—and how our guests might feel when they entered.
We had a three-story home, with rooms we hadn’t stepped into for years.
And we had a rare advantage: a second-floor swimming pool. In our area, this was unusual—construction at that level came with enormous cost.
But this house wasn’t built for guests.
It was built for us. For our family.
If we were going to transform it, we’d have to reimagine it completely—from the perspective of someone arriving for the first time:
How would they move through the space?
What would they need?
What would make them feel like they belonged?
The First Challenge: Finding a Place to Stay
The hardest part wasn’t the renovation. It was the fact that we still lived there. You can’t rebuild a home while living inside it. Before anything else could begin, we needed to find somewhere else to stay.
We searched across the city for a rental—but nothing fit.
Too small. Too isolated. Too far removed from the rhythm of our lives.
Frustration grew… until a quiet thought shifted everything:
Why rent at all?
That’s when our attention turned to an old, long-abandoned house in Northern Pattaya.
We had visited it once, years ago.
Now, it stood silent—overtaken by nature.
Vines curled up its walls.
Dust lay thick on every surface.
The roof leaked.
Some walls had collapsed.
The space no longer felt familiar—only forgotten.
But somewhere beneath the wreckage, there was still a heartbeat.
Something was waiting.
Not just to be restored…
But to be reimagined.
“This could be our refuge.”
A Home Designed with Purpose
I envisioned a long-shaped home—simple, functional, and made for togetherness.
Three bedrooms, each with doors opening onto a shared walkway—so when we stepped outside, we’d see one another.
Imagine it like a single condominium unit: three bedrooms, a kitchen, and an attached bathroom, all flowing along one gentle line.
The land measured just 10 meters wide and 41 meters long—higher in the back, lower in the front.
We raised the house 60 cm above ground level and built a railing along the walkway to keep out insects and animals, especially snakes that may have lived there before us.
Half the width became the house. The other half was left open—for ventilation, sunlight, parking… and to breathe.
We had plans to add a blinder above the railing for privacy, extending up to the roof’s edge.
(It still hasn’t been built. We often smile and say, “This is a contractor’s house—it’ll never be finished. But every customer’s house looks perfect in every corner.”)
At the front, a shared kitchen where we could gather.
A small office that doubled as our living room—a place for paperwork, for planning, for conversation… and for simply sitting, relaxing, watching TV together.
At the very back, we left the land untouched.
A gesture of hope.
One day, when we’re ready—when life gets better—we’ll build something more.
But for now, we just needed shelter.
A space that held what mattered: safety, function, and family.
When I shared the layout with a friend, he offered something unexpected:
A Feng shui adjustment—one that flipped the entire structure.
The front of the house would now be placed at the back.
And the kitchen—normally hidden—would greet you at the entrance.
It challenged everything I thought I knew about layout.
I even joked, “Maybe I shouldn’t have shown him the plan after all.” 😄
But this wasn’t casual advice.
He had studied old Chinese sciences and philosophy.
Years ago, he’d suggested a minor shift in a large house—and the atmosphere noticeably changed. I remembered that.
So I asked myself:
If a small adjustment once brought better energy…
why not try it at full scale?
Nothing would be wasted.
Only rearranged.
Why not try?
I took the project into my own hands.
We didn’t have the budget for a grand transformation—just patience, faith, and a slow rhythm of progress. We chipped away, spending USD 100 to 200 at a time. Clearing the space. Reinforcing the walls. Reshaping what had once been lost.
Yes—my wife, my dog, and I gave it everything we had.
I still remember the day we were digging the foundation—
he watched us from the side, then began digging too, with all his strength.
He’d tire, rest for a bit, then rejoin us.
I laughed and said, “Hey, let’s get it done. Start again.”
He stood up, tail wagging, and went back to work—dig, dig, dig.
I recorded it. A small video. A big memory.
No words—just loyalty, rhythm, and love in motion.
For two years, we worked—
And finally… our small home was complete.
Patiently. Carefully. Persistently.
It was enough.
We had a place to live.
And soon, a place to welcome others.
The planning chapter was closed.
The story of transformation was ready to begin.
This story is still unfolding—thank you for being part of it.
If it moved you, share it with someone who believes in second chances.
also found on Anat’s LinkedIn profiles
This Is Where Our Story Took Root
After two years of rebuilding an abandoned house—brick by brick, breath by breath—we finally moved in.
Not long after, I held my newborn daughter in my arms for the first time, standing on the very ground we once cleared with nothing but determination, a shovel, and a dream.
Beside me is Silver, our dog, who helped dig the foundation. He didn’t know the plan—but he felt the purpose.
This house wasn’t built with luxury. It was built with love, patience, and the belief that even forgotten places can hold a future.