As teenagers, we firmly believed in the adage, ‘Ignorance is bliss’. We kept all accounts of our activities to ourselves, refusing to share details with our parents and siblings, believing, as all youngsters do, that the less they knew the better for all concerned.

Thus, we were able to spend the day watching dirt bike racing in another town and get home by dark without anyone knowing just how many miles we had travelled to and fro on highways and by-lanes. We had truthfully said we were going ‘out’ for the day with our friends — but imagine if we had revealed our plans in advance! Our speed-loving siblings would have been indignant at being excluded, our parents would have been anxious until we returned safely! Their ignorance was bliss — for them and for us!

When we reached the other side of the fence — parents ourselves — being shut out of our children’s activities helped not at all for our peace of mind, especially as we had not forgotten our own adventures and misadventures at the same age. But gradually, we learnt to set aside our belief in knowledge as power and instead embraced ignorance in many situations.

And on a recent trip to South East Asia, I realised the value of ignorance when we were travelling.

Until then, each time we embarked on a trip — especially abroad — we spent weeks surfing the net, scrolling through dozens of articles about each place we were to visit. We noted down selected sections from Wikipedia about the art and architecture of the place, the history and culture and tradition and we printed out guidelines to all the must-sees and must-dos. We had no intention of missing out on sites worth seeing. Whether we were travelling alone or in a group, we needed to ask all the right questions of the guides, get all the relevant information about the place from maybe 3000 BCE to the present and get every bit of value for our money.

Usually charged up from the moment I awaken, ready to set out at full speed from site to site in pursuit of a packed itinerary, and abysmally disappointed when I missed out on anything because of lack of time or unwilling company, this time, for a period of almost three weeks, anything and everything was welcome. I relied solely on hazy memory, vague general knowledge and a few snippets here and there from others who had visited the places we were going to.

Therefore, there were no demands. No places I had to go while the others were reluctant. I’ll go with the flow, I said, uncharacteristically agreeably.

Perhaps more than for me, it was liberating for my companions — and a huge relief for the slightly laid back travellers who wished to take their time about everything and did not believe a holiday involved rushing about anywhere.

So, this time, there were no harangues to companions to hurry so that we could pack in one site after the other and all a country had to offer in the space of a couple of days. There was no missed sleep as I mentally went over everything we had seen in a museum and realised I had missed something I had fixated upon seeing: I didn’t know enough about these museums to realise if I had missed out on anything ...

Travelling with an absolutely empty personal agenda proved wonderful. I just went amenably where everyone else wanted to go. Of course, it was a huge relief that the others had a packed itinerary and had left nothing to chance — or ignorance. (And perhaps the ‘amenably’ part would have to be checked out with the others in the group, considering how everything is just a matter of perspective ...)

Cheryl Rao is a freelance journalist based in India.