Everyone talks about living abroad on a shoestring budget, but how many people actually do it?

When I first told people I was planning to spend a year in Vietnam on just $800 a month, the reactions were mixed. Some thought I was crazy. Many assumed I’d be living in complete poverty, eating instant noodles and sleeping on floors.

The truth? It was one of the most eye-opening experiences of my life—and not always in the ways I expected.

I thought I knew what I was getting into. But living somewhere for a full year on an ultra-tight budget taught me things that no travel blog or YouTube video could have prepared me for.

The wake-up call that changed everything

My first month was pretty brutal.

I landed in Ho Chi Minh City with this romantic idea that I’d figure it out as I went. I’d done short trips before, stayed in hostels, eaten street food—how hard could it be to stretch that into a year-long adventure?

Reality hit fast. My initial accommodation was a tiny room for $230 a month. Seemed reasonable until I realized I was spending nearly $25 a day on food because I kept gravitating toward Western restaurants and convenience stores.

Do the math—that’s $750 a month on food alone. Add in transport, a few beers, and random expenses, and I was already pushing $1,000 before even thinking about travel within the country.

I was hemorrhaging money and it wasn’t even week two.

That’s when I realized I needed to completely rewire how I thought about money and lifestyle. This wasn’t going to be a year-long vacation—it was going to be a masterclass in minimalism.

Learning to live like a local (not a tourist)

The biggest shift happened when I stopped thinking like a visitor and started thinking like a resident.

Tourists eat at restaurants with English menus. Locals eat at plastic chair joints where the only English word is “beer.” Tourists take Grab cars or taxis everywhere. Most locals ride motorbikes or take local buses for 30 cents.

I moved to District 3 (near the center of the city), found a local landlord through a Vietnamese friend, and scored a decent studio for $250 a month. No agency fees, no foreigner markup—just a straightforward deal with someone who didn’t see me as a walking ATM.

My food budget dropped to about $10 a day once I discovered the local markets. Pho for breakfast cost $1.50. A decent plate of com tam (broken rice) with grilled pork for lunch was $2. Dinner at a neighborhood joint rarely exceeded $5.

But here’s what nobody tells you about living this way: you don’t just save money—you completely change your relationship with consumption.

When you’re spending $10 a day on food, you become incredibly intentional about every purchase. That $15 pizza bar isn’t just expensive—it’s almost two days’ worth of meals. That $40 night out isn’t just a splurge—it’s more than a week of lunches.

The hidden costs nobody talks about

Living on $800 a month in Vietnam is absolutely possible, but there are trade-offs that most people don’t consider.

Healthcare was my biggest blind spot. I didn’t really think about this, figuring I was young and healthy. Then I got food poisoning that lasted three days, followed by a motorbike accident that required stitches.

The medical bills weren’t massive by Western standards—maybe $200 total—but that’s 25% of my monthly budget gone in one month. I learned to keep a separate emergency fund after that.

Then there’s the social isolation that comes with extreme budgeting. When your friends want to grab drinks at a rooftop bar and you’re calculating that those three beers will cost more than your entire day’s food budget, you start declining invitations.

I’ve mentioned this before, but money affects relationships in ways you don’t expect. Not just romantic relationships—friendships, too. When you’re constantly the person who can’t afford to join group activities, it changes the dynamic.

Some friends understood. Others didn’t. A few probably thought I was being cheap rather than genuinely broke. Managing these social pressures while staying within budget was harder than figuring out how to eat for $10 a day.

What $800 a month actually looks like

Let me break down exactly where my money went during a typical month:

Rent took up $250. Food was consistently around $300. Phone and internet ran me $15. That left roughly $235 for everything else—clothes, entertainment, travel, emergency fund contributions, and those random expenses that always pop up.

It sounds like decent buffer room, but Vietnam has a way of tempting you to spend. Weekend trips to Da Lat or Nha Trang. That amazing massage place that charges $10 for an hour.

The months I stayed disciplined, I could even save a bit. The months I got loose with spending, I’d blow through everything and stress about money for weeks.

Living this way taught me that budgeting isn’t just about math—it’s about psychology. Some days, spending $3 on a fancy coffee felt like a massive luxury. Other days, that same $3 felt like nothing.

The unexpected benefits of extreme frugality

Here’s what surprised me most: living on so little money didn’t make me miserable. It made me more creative.

When you can’t afford to throw money at problems, you find other solutions. I didn’t want to pay for gym memberships, so I started running every morning. Free, great exercise, and I discovered parts of the city I never would have seen otherwise.

Entertainment got creative too. Instead of expensive bars, I’d buy beers at local places and end up meeting a bunch of locals I otherwise wouldn’t have.

Instead of tourist attractions, I’d explore neighborhoods just by walking around.

The constraints forced me to engage with the culture in ways I might have avoided if I had unlimited money. And honestly? Some of my best memories from that year cost practically nothing.

The reality check about “cheap” countries

Vietnam is very affordable compared to the West, but it’s not universally cheap for everything.

Imported goods often cost the same as anywhere else. That iPhone you need for work? Same price as back home. Quality Western food? Often more expensive than you’d pay in major US cities. International flights? No local discount just because you’re living frugally.

I learned to distinguish between things that were genuinely cheaper in Vietnam versus things that were just different. Local transportation, local food, local entertainment—these were legitimately affordable. Anything imported, international, or catering to Western tastes maintained close to global pricing.

This is why so many digital nomads get frustrated with budget estimates they read online. Yes, you can live incredibly cheaply in Vietnam, but only if you’re willing to live like a local Vietnamese person.

When the budget became a prison

Around month eight, I hit a wall.

I was tired of calculating every expense. Tired of choosing the cheapest option for everything. Tired of feeling guilty about spending money on anything that wasn’t absolutely necessary.

The budget that had initially felt like a fun challenge started feeling like a prison. I began resenting the limitations, even though I had imposed them on myself.

That’s when I realized something important: extreme budgeting is a skill worth learning, but it’s not a lifestyle worth maintaining long-term unless you absolutely have to.

The discipline I developed during that year has been invaluable in every financial decision since. I know exactly how little I can live on if I need to. I understand the difference between wants and needs at a visceral level. I can stretch money when circumstances require it.

But I also learned that constantly operating in survival mode—even comfortable survival mode—is exhausting. There’s a psychological cost to always choosing the cheapest option, always calculating, always saying no to experiences because of money.

What I’d tell someone considering the same experiment

If you’re thinking about living in Vietnam on $800 a month, you absolutely can do it. But go in with realistic expectations.

This isn’t about living like a backpacker for a year. It’s about fundamentally changing your relationship with money and consumption. You’ll eat differently, socialize differently, and think differently about what constitutes a good life.

Some months will be harder than others. You’ll have weeks where you feel like you’re gaming the system, living an amazing life for almost nothing. Other weeks, you’ll feel every limitation acutely.

The experience will teach you things about yourself that you can’t learn any other way. You’ll discover what you actually need versus what you think you need. You’ll find out how resourceful you can be when money isn’t available to solve problems.

But don’t expect it to be easy just because Vietnam is “cheap.” Living anywhere on a tight budget requires constant mindfulness and discipline. Some days, that discipline will feel empowering. Other days, it’ll feel restrictive.

The year I spent living on that limited budget in Vietnam wasn’t just about proving I could do it. It was about learning what happened when I stripped away financial comfort and forced myself to figure out what really mattered.

Turns out, you need less than you think—but you also deserve more than just surviving. Finding that balance is the real challenge, whether you’re in Vietnam or anywhere else.