The rule was simple. At every junction, the passenger chose the road that looked more interesting. No navigation app, no booked hotels, just a paper map for emergencies and a full tank of fuel.
We ended up in places no guide would send you: a village festival with a brass band of eleven people, a roadside stall selling the sweetest peaches of the summer, a lake so cold we managed to stay in for exactly forty seconds.
Not every turn was a good one. We spent a full hour on a gravel track that ended at a locked gate, and one night we slept in a guesthouse whose owner talked to us about his tomatoes until midnight. Those are, of course, the parts we tell people about.
Getting lost on purpose is a skill, and like most skills it gets easier with practice. Start with an afternoon. You may find that an afternoon turns into a weekend.
