To know or not to know.

When visiting somewhere new and different for the first time there is a fine balance between the impulsive thrill of the unknown and unplanned (leaving the hotel with no map, no guidebook, no watch, no directions, no phone, no Hindi) and the boredom of having everything planned out to the finest detail, timed and arranged with precision and rigidity (got to be here at exactly this time to see these things in this order with such and such before rejoining blah de blah to arrange la di da di da). I.e. most of us find the greatest enjoyment lies somewhere in the middle of impulsive self-reliance bordering ignorance and knowing too much, too far in advance.

A case in point: I was totally thrilled by the magic of the Taj Mahal during a misty sunrise in Agra, but I think part of this owes to having actually seen so few photos of it beforehand that I didn’t really have an accurate 3D image if it in my head, let alone one true to scale. So when the time came to stand in its real shadow, it blew me away with its enchanting fairy tale-like beauty. How something like that could be built in the 1600s is beyond me. Mesmerisingly colossal.

There is an irony in the fascination of the unknown of course, because you have to know something of it or else you wouldn’t be interested in the first place would you? I mean, who’s interested in exploring nothing after all? Not many, except Nietzsche maybe.

Anyhow, these thoughts occurred to me as I strolled around a fort and its lake in South Delhi, with no map, no guidebook, no watch, no directions, no phone, no Hindi. Don’t misinterpret me here, I was having a really nice time plus coming across this sight by chance was a lucky find. However, not knowing which direction took me to the centre of the city nor which bus would take me there, where from and what there was to see and where such things would be found, was at best, a little problematic…

Then I stumbled upon four other whities like me. Sometimes it gives me a knot in my stomach when us tourists all hang out like some flamboyant army, but this lot had fluency in English and a precious Rough Guide, so I approached them slowly without making any sudden movements. It turns out they were an amazing family. An eccentric art teacher/deputy head and his wife who are travelling the world for a year with their two freckled cheeked boys, aged 8 and 11. Not only did they have had all the logistical answers but they were also great company, so accepted the kind offer and spent the rest of my day with them. 

Now I have vivid memories of wondering in awe how my primary school peers ever managed to convince their parents to take them to Thorpe Park on a school day, not to mention to Tenerife for a week during term-time. Many would argue against pulling your kids out of formal education for an entire year, but for one these boys had a geography far better than mine and took no time in reeling off all the countries they’d visited: “…so after leaving Mexico and then Brazil we spent three weeks in Indonesia then we went to Australia to stay with aunt Gillian and then a month in New Zealand and then we flew to Nepal where we had a house in the mountains for three months cause my Dad did some teaching and we had a school trip to Darjeeling and I really miss my friends from there but then we had to come to Delhi. Anyways next we’re spending three weeks in Thailand before Cambodia, Laos and then Vietnam before the monsoon and then we’re going to see Beijing…” and so you get the gist. They’re teaching the boys as they go and making them keep a log book of their experiences “to help show them how much they’ve got compared to everyone else”. The youngest was picking up the guitar so quickly from his Dad that it would make any grown up green with envy. I love how they have no idea how amazing they’re going to be once they become young adults, and fully appreciate the year they had aged 8 and 11.

The family was flying to Bangkok the following day so offered me their guidebook on Delhi and Agra as a parting gift. Ha! Such is the beauty of impulsive self-reliance bordering ignorance when it nudges ever so slightly over to knowing that little bit more (but not too much). What a lovely day. Isn’t it nice when things work out.