Born With a Silver Spoon in Your Mouth: A Hostel Friendship

The silver spoon supplied the title. His stories supplied the evening.

Tell someone you met a man who seemed to have been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, and they might picture a conversation in a five-star hotel. This one began at a budget place in Asia, where the bar filled with travelers in the evening and nobody needed a grand entrance. We have met interesting people in all sorts of places, and those encounters are a large part of why we travel. That evening, I started talking to a quiet man whose life seemed a long way from the place where we were both staying.

Gold for the photographs; a few beers for the conversation.

Born With a Silver Spoon in Your Mouth?

Being born with a silver spoon in your mouth means being born into a wealthy family, with advantages already in place. Over a few beers, my new acquaintance described a comfortable life in a Middle Eastern country transformed by oil wealth. He told me he had retired at 45. As the conversation continued, it became clear that his story also involved plenty of work, travel, and an eye for a business opportunity.

A little gold to accompany a story about wealth.

His job had taken him around the world and, by his account, paid him well. Along the way, he had developed a love of antiques and built a business selling them to wealthy buyers back home. Horses were another interest: he described training, buying, and selling them, supplying hay, and running a farm with 40 stables. He invited us to visit one day. I liked the thought of seeing this other side of someone I had met over a beer.

My new friend became a watch model for a beach photo session.

From Five-Star Hotels to Hostel Life

He had started traveling because he had not been well. According to him, his doctor had encouraged a change of surroundings, and he found that he was doing better on the road. During his travels, a woman introduced him to hostel life. He enjoyed the people and the energy so much that he began choosing budget places over the five-star hotels he had been used to. That explained how we had ended up at the same bar.

Leaving familiar surroundings was part of his story.

The change came with some adjustments. He told me he had once been unable to bring himself to touch a dog; now there was one sleeping in his bed. Food was more difficult. He was particular about where he ate, and the unfamiliar places he encountered while traveling in Asia could test his comfort with trying something new. Listening to him describe these small struggles was often funny. For all his experience traveling for work, this part of life on the road was new territory.

The silver spoon supplied the title. His stories supplied the evening.

An Ant in the Coffee

One of his stories involved an ant finding its way into his black coffee after he briefly left the cup unattended. His response included some very determined toothbrushing afterward. It was a small incident, and the way he told it made me laugh. It also made me think about the everyday things we take for granted when we travel. A conversation with a stranger might come easily, while a different meal or an unexpected visitor in a coffee cup can demand considerably more adjustment. He was learning which unfamiliar things he enjoyed and which still made him uncomfortable.

The Poljot de Luxe caught my eye for its design. I had no reliable date for it.

A Poljot Watch and an Unexpected Goodbye

His interest in old objects had traveled with him. He spotted a Poljot watch on a local man’s wrist and, after about ten minutes of negotiation, persuaded him to sell it. I loved the design. There was something futuristic about its appearance, even though it was clearly an older piece. I could not establish its age, and my enthusiasm was mostly that of a photographer who had found something he wanted to photograph. I asked whether we could take a few pictures, and we headed to the beach.

We also enjoy a grand setting, such as Atlas Bar in Singapore. This particular friendship began somewhere much simpler.

We both enjoyed the photo session, and I admit I was pleased when he complimented my photography. Before we said goodbye, I shared one of the pictures with him as a gift. Then, just before he boarded his bus, he took off the watch and gave it to me. I had admired it, photographed it, and expected it to leave with him. Receiving it was a surprise I still remember clearly.

Another side of our travels: the Authors’ Lounge at Mandarin Oriental Bangkok.

The watch became a reminder of the man, his stories, and the time we spent taking those photographs. I had started the evening curious about how someone with so much money had found his way to a budget place in Asia. What I remember most is his generosity at the bus. A photograph had been my way of saying thank you; he had found a rather unexpected way of answering.