What we lose when we plan everything
I've got itinerary fatigue.
I’m in India as I write this, and it’s the first day (or rather, morning) that I’ve had to myself in over a week.
I left Austin last Monday, got to England on Tuesday, flew to the Motherland on Wednesday, and landed in Chennai early Thursday morning.
Since arriving, it’s been go go go. Flights, family, fittings, ceremonies—the glorious chaos only an Indian wedding can deliver.
But it’s fine. The perk has been seeing those I’ve not seen in a while.
What’s made me a little cranky, however, is by following everyone else’s plans so carefully, I didn’t realise how little time I’d have to check in with myself to ask, “What do I feel like doing today?”
The time zone is really emphasised, and I feel like I’m in another world.
Alas, the festivities are over, and today, I finally have a moment to write this post with the intention of sending it out tomorrow.
I know, I should’ve planned ahead. But writing doesn’t work like that for me. I need the moment to be right and my head to be clear. And that, I suppose, is what this week has reminded me of—there are planners, and then there are people like me.
I’m someone who travels by feel. I like to wander rather than map, and I find structure stifling when it comes to the joy of exploring.
Others, however, thrive on itineraries. They know exactly where and when they need to be, how they’ll be getting there and what they’ll be wearing. For them, the pleasure of travel is in this precision. The trip becomes a puzzle they can’t wait to piece together.
I admire this kind of person. But I am not this kind of person.
I find the planner to be someone who is often trying to outrun disappointment. They seek to control every variable as a form of protection, because if everything is accounted for, nothing can go wrong.
But there are cons to being a wanderer, too. We can forget things, miss things. We could end up hungry in a place with no food options after 10 pm.
Neither approach is inherently better, but they ask different questions.
The planner asks, “How do I make this worth it?”
The wanderer asks, “What might I find if I don’t decide too early?”
That said, the planner vs wanderer distinction is surface-level. The real difference, and what I’ve been thinking about this week, is about why we like to travel in these ways.
As I mentioned, planning is a way to pre-empt the discomfort of the unknown. You hope to reduce risk, and there’s nothing wrong with that.
BUT it’s also a way of inadvertently saying, “I trust my version of this place more than I trust the place itself.”
Not planning, on the other hand, is surrendering, at least in its truest form. You relinquish authorship and submit to the trip.
Very few people are fully one or the other. Most of us toggle between both pastures, depending on the trip or the mood.
When zooming out, I can’t help but notice how our culture rewards control. We tend to admire people who organise and optimise, who make the most of every moment (within reason). Leisure begins to mimic work, where everything has to be worth it.
While we’re here, it’s also worth emphasising that spontaneity is a privilege. The ability to not plan isn’t evenly distributed. If you’ve got limited time, a tight budget or dependents in tow, you don’t get the luxury of drifting. You need things to work.
The fact that I can write this newsletter from India, after a week of running around, in a pocket of calm, is a luxury to me. The fact that I have the option of planning less is freedom, and one that I don’t wish to waste.
Planning definitely keeps me efficient, but it can sometimes prevent me from noticing the details and remaining present. I don’t want to miss the good stuff just because I was hell bent on sticking to a schedule.
So I can appreciate both sides of the coin.
Anyway, that’s all I’ve got this morning. I’ll probably go make a cup of tea after this, maybe stare out the window for a bit.
I encourage you to do the same. Move slower this weekend, and I’ll catch you next week when I’m back in England.