My father was handing each of us an itinerary. “Be down in the hotel lobby at 0600 hours tomorrow.”

We were in Athens taking a family “vacation” on our way to Pakistan at the end of 1978. Just my parents and us girls. My brothers didn’t come with us. Whenever we took vacations involving my father, it didn’t feel much like a vacation. He would schedule every hour of our time, in military time. At 0600 hours we’d start our day in the hotel restaurant for breakfast. At 0700 hours we’d have to be in the car. At 0800 hours we’d arrive at the Acropolis and so on. It was grueling.

We saw more of Greece in a week than I thought was possible. Athens, Deplhi, Olympia, the islands. It was a blur.

My favorite part of this trip was when we got lost in the countryside and had to go off the itinerary. We were hungry and had no idea where we were. We stumbled upon a tiny family-owned restaurant where we had the best food of our trip. Lamb chops, feta cheese, olives, yogurt and eggplant. It was so enjoyable to be spontaneous for a change.

Later the next year we went to India for the first time as a family. My parents were eager to show us their birthplaces. We went to Kashmir where my father was born and lived for the first years of his life. In the summer of 1979, Kashmir was  a peaceful, bucolic place. We stayed at the Palace Hotel in Srinagar. It was a beautiful luxury hotel overlooking Dal Lake. Not that we got to enjoy the hotel much since we were up at 0600 hours every morning to take a day trip to Jammu, or other historic sites like Shalimar Bagh or Pari Mahal. We also visited the boarding school my father attended as a boy.

We stayed in Kashmir for seven fully packed days and then went on to Bombay, now Mumbai, to visit my mother’s city of birth. Both my parents still had extended family who stayed in India during the time of Partition in 1947, so we had many lunches, dinners and teas to attend. In Bombay we stayed with relatives. It was August 1979 and if you know anything about Bombay in August, you know it’s Monsoon season. The rain came pouring down in sheets. It was hot and humid. Flies buzzed around everywhere. Rats floated down the rain-flooded streets.  I couldn’t wait to leave.

Our itinerary in Bombay wasn’t quite as full, but the rains made it an unpleasant visit. When our week came to an end, we all felt like we needed a vacation. So we asked my parents if we could go back to Srinagar, on one condition: no itineraries. “We just want some peace and quiet,” we declared.

We wanted to lounge around the grounds of the Palace Hotel and go for a leisurely swim in the pool. Reading books all day. Ordering fresh lime and sodas. And room service. Visiting the lake.

My father was secretly pleased that we seemed to like Kashmir more than Bombay, and he agreed to our demands. Finally, we got a peaceful and relaxing vacation. No schedules, no planned excursions, no early mornings. Just pure relaxation. I think even my father enjoyed himself.