We spend most of our lives knowing exactly where we are supposed to be. There are clocks to obey, appointments to keep, responsibilities to fulfill, and people who expect us to arrive at a particular place at a particular hour.

Even our leisure has become something to organize.

We make reservations to relax. We schedule time to explore. We hurry from one beautiful place to another, occasionally stopping long enough to photograph something we may never really have looked at.

And then we call it a vacation.

There’s something rather amusing about traveling thousands of miles to escape our routines, only to arrive with a brand-new set of them.

Breakfast at eight. Museum at ten. Lunch at noon. A little sightseeing at two. And somewhere between three and four, if everything goes according to plan, we’re scheduled to enjoy ourselves.

My one piece of travel advice is to leave the itinerary behind. Not everything worth experiencing comes with an admission ticket, a reservation, or a recommended time of arrival.

There’s no prize for seeing everything.

At home, ten minutes late can be a problem.

On vacation, ten minutes late is right on time.