The person
holding the pen

The author, somewhere on the way to elsewhere — Somewhere on the way to elsewhere.

I am Oil. Born in Thailand, named after nothing in particular, at home wherever breakfast is taken seriously.

This book began as a habit: writing down the room, the meal, the light, before they faded. Hotels kept ending up in the notes. So did tables, and the people behind both. At some point the notebook outgrew the bedside table.

What you will find here is not a guide written for everyone. It is a diary that happens to be useful. I keep the addresses, the room numbers worth asking for and the dishes worth flying for, because someone always asks, and because memory deserves better than a camera roll.

I travel slowly, eat with intention and judge hotels by their breakfast and their silence. I photograph things the way I want to remember them, not the way they advertise themselves.

For the record

Judging a hotel by: The breakfast, then the silence
Window or aisle: Window, always, no debate
One dish forever: Mango sticky rice, April mangoes
Packing style: Two books, one returns unread
Current obsession: Hotel bathtubs with views

Collaborations

This journal works occasionally with hotels, restaurants and places that fit the book. Every collaboration is disclosed, every word remains mine. If you think your place belongs on these pages, write to [email protected].