GAP YEARING IT BRUV!!!!!!!!
That is the precise phrase I was assaulted by when I opened Facebook recently. And this was my subsequent thought-process:
“Why caps, dude? Somehow, I’d be infinitely more excited for you had you approached this in a cool, calm and… alright, who am I kidding? I’m sitting at Varsity, in the library, and I just found a peach pip down the side of the plush chair I’m sitting on. You can practically smell my bitterness; I’m jealous of you, ‘bruv’”.
But I’m also nervous for you, and here’s why: aside from those eight (EIGHT) exclamation marks, I am worried you may not be ready for this. (Read more) And that’s not just because I find your punctuation antics questionable. Heck, I know that when I go to the concert of a certain boy-band arriving in Cape Town next month, I too may be led into this exclamation-point frenzy. But, Terry Pratchett did eloquently muse: ‘Five exclamation marks, the sure sign of an insane mind.’ So perhaps, we should stick to four.
I am worried because Bruv, you’re old, but really freakin’ young.
And so was I. I was a freshly-ripened eighteen-year-old (whoa; I promise to attempt to avoid those awkward sexual innuendos) woman-child, with nothing but fifteen years of education behind her. Which, despite what they (the portentous ‘they’) try tell you otherwise, is really not very much, life-skills-wise.
But, I was determined. I can tell you that much. With a suitcase of carefully and not so-carefully thought-through reasons by my side – under which I had tightly vacuum-bagged (you know, those infomercial ones? They’re great*) my specifically un-thought-through emotional baggage, and a literal one – I set off.
But it’s never quite that simple, is it?
Nope. Not for me and not for any of the other child-women and child-men I spoke to, either.
Gap years are, without a doubt, great. Of course they are. And a lot of the clichés attached to them are very much true. Your somewhat-timid, matric-infused mind will no doubt grow; you’ll see things you’ve never seen before and hold conversations with humans who have lived an entirely separate existence to your own and you’ll learn how to separate the bull-crap from the important stuff and, AND, you’ll have FUN. Somehow, someway, that’s an almost guarantee. The other thing you’ll inevitably end up with, though, besides the plethora of other things I haven’t mentioned, is a …. “man, I wish I’d asked that.”
Because hindsight is such a snooty, condescending, irony-clad chick, isn’t she?
So here is a compilation of the obvious and not-so-obvious questions to ask yourself before you embark on your adventures, from slightly older, gap-year veteran child-grownups, to save you the trouble.
The that’s-deep-man, existential-crisis ones:
What is it I actually want to do?
Will I really have enough time to do what I want?
What the heck do I want?
What if I don’t have the elusive figuring-things-out moment?
What if I hate it?
How am I going to attempt to keep in contact with loved ones?
Am I running away from something, or towards it?
And, by far the most salient one… IS THERE A BATH?
The boring, practical ones:
How different will the place(s) be I’m going?
To someone who’s been there, got the (overpriced, touristy) t-shirt: what was it like?
What if I don’t get work?
Do I have (the dreaded, mundane) Plan B?
How am I going to get around?
For a few other, more generalised questions, check this out.
And there you have it. You’re welcome, Bruv.
*disclaimer: I received no money for my mentioning of vacuum luggage bags (I just started this blog, who would pay me?**)
** If you want to, you totally can.
The Gapped Year 