A few years ago my husband and I, in our 30s and 20s respectively, felt we needed some adventure. A month-long holiday in Thailand wouldn't be enough, we decided. We wanted to, you know, really be entrenched in a foreign culture and for that we'd need to stay for at least a year.We'd still effectively be tourists, but with an address and Thai bank account. Based on the extreme responses we got, I'd say that when it comes to adventuring, there are three broad categories of armchair tourists .The Nutters (the ones who thought I was nuts). A typical conversation with a Nutter colleague would go something like:"We're moving to Phuket in July."story_article_left1"You mean, you're going to live there? But why?""Er, well, I've always loved karaoke and fried rice.""What are you going to do there?""Well I thought I would sell my body - at least what's left of it after I've contracted a flesh-eating virus that leaves me disfigured.Of course I'll drop half my weight since all they eat there is grasshoppers washed down with diesel.""That's all good and well. But why would you want to lose everything you've got here?""Yeah, I know, why would I want to give up all this?" I'd say, sweeping my arm over the office with its grey walls and grey-faced people watching the clock inch its way to 5pm. "I must be mad.""You always were such a free spirit" was another Nutter response. In other words, you crazy hedonist, the '60s are over. Give it a month and you'll be back.My poor mum had visions of me lying in a gutter with a sign begging for money to fly home after I'd spent my last Baht. I comforted her by saying I'd heard they had world-class gutters in Thailand.She tried to put me off the whole idea. "You know Aunt M went to Thailand and she said there were no flushing toilets in the whole country. And you have to ." (she whispered) . "squat!"My gran, who looked to be dozing, suddenly woke up and said "Thailand?" I could tell she was at that minute downloading any horrific stories with that keyword from her cerebral bad-news archive. I tried to explain that I would actually be working (as a teacher), but they refused to have their vision tarnished "Isn't that where the tsunami happened? And wasn't there a military takeover?" My mother blanched.I was worried she might try to track me down. But I relaxed after I heard from my brother: "Mom says you're moving to Taiwan ." (Another colleague wished me a pleasant stay in Ireland.)Then there are the Romantics, the ones who gushed about my decision and claimed to be "soooo jealous".Cue half an hour of reminiscing about the life-changing gap year they'd taken in their youth in Europe and how they'd worked three jobs and hadn't had enough money to buy a coat so they'd nearly died in the winter .Ah, it had been wonderful! So character-forming! And if only they'd stayed and married that barman/lady, life would be so much better.story_article_right2Big sigh. "I would go tomorrow if I could. But I have a mortgage and 10 children. If I were single I'd do it tomorrow. You're so lucky." Another sigh.I tried to explain that I would actually be working (as a teacher), but they refused to have their vision tarnished.Lastly there are the Cynics. In this case, men who'd lived in Thailand for five years and had been scammed by some local woman out of property.All they could do was talk about how wonderful it was to live in a first-world country again, how reliable the public transport system, how much they'd missed people who could speak decent English . that lying, cheating minx .But the Nutters, Romantics, and Cynics all asked the same thing: "When are you coming home?" For each person I had a different answer. For the Nutters and Cynics, "soon"; for the Romantics, "never".• Do you have a funny or quirky story about your travels ? Send 600 words to travelmag@sundaytimes.co.za..