Hi, neighbours.I’m Lee, from Seoul.

I worked as a food-tech developer and IT engineer for over 15 years, and retired two years ago to live in Thailand ever since.

While living in Thailand, I often invited close Thai friends over to my home. We would cook Korean and Thai dishes together, share stories, and simply enjoy spending time together.

One day, I found myself thinking, “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I could share these experiences not only with my friends, but also with my neighbours?”

I looked through countless social media platforms — Facebook, LINE, TikTok, Instagram, and many others. But everyone seemed far apart, with no easy way to share food or things with one another.

During my two years in Thailand, I gradually accumulated things that I had brought from Korea but no longer needed. They were simply taking up space, so I decided to sell some of them online through platforms such as Facebook and Kaidee, even paying advertising fees to list my items.

One day, someone contacted me saying he was interested in buying one of my items. We discussed the price and how to arrange the delivery. Then the buyer suggested that I send the item by EMS first, take a photo of the package, and send it to him. He said he would transfer the money after seeing the photo. I even spoke with the buyer directly on the phone, so I felt comfortable enough to trust him. I sent the item, took a photo, and sent it to him as requested. But after that, I never heard from him again.

When I told my friends what had happened, they said I had probably been scammed. They also told me that online scams were common in Thailand and that, for safety, it was better to avoid second-hand transactions with strangers whenever possible.

It was a deeply upsetting experience. In an instant, the positive image I had built of Thai people over the years seemed to be shaken.

What troubled me most was realising that a few scammers hiding behind the anonymity of the internet could damage the trust we have in the many kind, honest and hardworking people around us. It made me wonder: “How can we create a safer and more trustworthy way for the good neighbours we meet every day to buy and sell things with one another?”

That is why Koreans sometimes call a neighbour an “이웃사촌” — almost like a cousin or family member. It reflects how deeply Koreans value the people who live around them. I grew up with that idea.

During the two years I have spent in Thailand since my retirement, I discovered that I could feel the same kind of warmth and connection here, too.

One night, I went to the supermarket and accidentally left my car lights on. When I came back, the battery was dead. A neighbour I had never even met before went out of his way to find jumper cables and helped me get the car started.

Another day, I fell off my bicycle in the rain. A neighbour I didn’t know came running over, checked to make sure I was safe, and helped me take care of my bicycle.

They were strangers, yet in those moments, they felt more precious to me than distant relatives.

Baan Pinto is a place where we can share the stories of the people who live around us — people who can sometimes mean more to us than relatives who live far away.

It is a place where we can share warm food, meaningful stories and treasured belongings, and where we can buy and sell with people we can trust.

Baan Pinto is a community of trust, built by people who care about their neighbours. Because sometimes, the people who live just next door can become the people who matter most.

Baan Pinto is FREE. Baan Pinto doesn’t collect or ask any commission from neighbours. All the money from food and second-hand goods goes directly between neighbours.