From Bali to the Bailey: Your gap year itinerary based on your Durham college

You might have found yourself in Bali, but we’re about to find you a Durham college. You’re not a Durham student unless you’ve been asked at least five times what you did in your ‘gap-yah’ (cue the immediate lag in their brain if you tell them you actually worked). From the Swan to the Big Bird window ledge, we already know the exact travel yap you’re recycling after your seventh Woodgate. Nothing says “I found my spiritual purpose at a Thai elephant sanctuary” quite like blacking out on the Jimmy’s dance floor.

The Bailey Bali crawl: Hatfield, Castle, and Chad’s.

The Bailey elite desperately need you to know they’re down-to-earth, wanting to escape the “trust fund stereotype”. They feel a burning desire to prove they’ve grown up and that daddy doesn’t need to hold their hand anymore – apart from when his monthly bank transfer clears, obviously. Naturally, they decided to ‘go solo’ in Southeast Asia. This cliché has now become a mandatory rite of passage for anyone who owns a signet ring.

We can probably include Mary’s in this lineup as well. Their gap years certainly have the funding, even if they have to cope by claiming they’re “basically on the Bailey”.

They went from a gruelling itinerary of a full moon party in Thailand and the Ha Giang Loop in Vietnam, to landing themselves in Bali, where they spent at least two weeks ‘decompressing’ in a top end hostel (or maybe even a retreat because sharing a mixed dorm was starting to feel a bit too real.)

Gotta get that tan in before peak ski season drinking Aperol in the mountains of Val d’Isère, am I right?

From sunshine to slopes: Mary’s, Mildert, and Grey

Not content with just hitting the slopes in Europe, this lot started their journey over in Byron Bay. Their route was perfectly curated for their Instagram grid. Starting with a Bondi hostel for a few months (becoming practically one of the locals, of course). Then followed by mandatory migration up the East Coast, where they travelled strictly on 4×4 trucks on Fraser Island and survived off endless boxes of Goon wine (the cheapest for our seasoned travellers).

A truly humbling experience and the perfect set up for flying to the Alps. Eagerly awaiting the opportunity to swap their cartoned wine for champagne at La Folie Douce. Again, you’re not a Durham student if you haven’t experienced a Mary’s girl telling you about the waves she surfed in Bryon Bay, before casually reminding you that her college is “basically on the Bailey”.

The ‘lads on tour’: Collingwood and Cuthbert’s

This gappy didn’t broaden their minds, rather their shoulders. It was a classic Camp America jobby – three months pretending to teach nine-year-olds how to play football, followed by a winter season in the Alps spent entirely in a ski-chalet bar. Less a cultural awakening, more a sports social on foreign soil. If they weren’t getting paid to high-five American children, they were on a family sports holiday in Quinta do Lago.

Throw in a mandatory, absolutely degenerate lads holiday to Ibiza or Malia to “properly celebrate” finishing exams, and you have their complete gap year itinerary. Prepare yourself for a full-blown existential crisis if you ask them what they actually learned about themselves while away, other than how to survive a 48-hour  bender on cheap American lager.

The interrail itinerary: John Snow, Stevo, and JoBo

The John Snow, Stevo, and JoBo crowd approach a gap year with pure, unadulterated practicality. A solid chunk of them spent the year working a regular job back home to build up a proper savings account, completely bypassing the drama of pretending to “find themselves” abroad.

If they did travel, they kept it classic and close to home with an Interrail trip across Europe. Their gap year was defined by navigating sleeper trains, exploring Prague, and mastering the art of packing everything into a personal item airline carry-on.

The alternative was the volunteering route, typically a month-long stint in Kenya helping out at a local school or wildlife sanctuary which definitely featured on the Instagram highlights.

The LinkedIn & luxury itinerary: South

Whilst you were in the womb, South was refining their LinkedIn profile. They are the ones securing spring weeks at investment banks in August, hunting for corporate internships, and treating university like a four-year networking event.

If they travelled, it was a highly organized, three week stop in Dubai, Tokyo; or a carefully planned ski season where they carefully managed the chalet budget with spreadsheets. They don’t do chaos; they do logistics. They arrive in Durham with a flawless CV and a pristine wardrobe, ready to unpack into a room with double-glazing and underfloor heating.

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The cardigan and countryside chronicles: St John’s

Well one thing we can say is they definitely weren’t partying in Ibiza or Málaga.

They either spent a year working as an intern for a youth church group, did a highly pure missionary trip to East Africa where they primarily taught acoustic guitar chords, or stayed home and read theology. They will have a photo of themselves surrounded by local children as their profile picture for the next four years. Even if they aren’t strictly religious, the John’s crowd spent their gap years operating on a whole other moral plane to the rest of the university. Think less full Moon Party in Thailand and more faith-based volunteering project in Malawi.

A wild gap year for a John’s student involves a walking tour of the Lake District, volunteering at a charity shop, or an incredibly tame interrail trip where they went to bed at 10pm every night to catch the museums early. They definitely have gold DofE on their LinkedIn and CV somewhere.

The Val d’Isère to Viaduct pipeline: Hild Bede

“Is that the one next to Babs?”

Hild Bede students can be identified in two ways: their vintage trench coat or their fleece quarter-zip. If you’re Hild Bede, your gap year fell strictly into one of two categories.

Option one: the ultimate multi-leg global tour. This probably kicked off with a ski season in Val d’Isère where they spent the winter perfecting their parallel turns and enjoying the après-ski, before jetting off on a well-funded Southeast Asia venture. They wrapped the whole year up with an obligatory Australian excursion, spending a few months beach-hopping around Sydney and returning to Durham with a flawless tan and a shark-tooth necklace.

Option two is the noticeably more down-to-earth approach. They probably stayed closer to home, pulling pints at a local country club, or picking up a retail role. It was the ultimate experience job. Great for building up the CV, perfect for adding a bit of structure to the LinkedIn profile, and an ideal way to fund their summer festival tickets.

The high-altitude alternative: St Aidan’s

St Aidan’s students did not spend their gap years optimization-modelling their LinkedIn profiles or sipping £15 cocktails in Dubai. Instead, their itineraries looked like a fever dream curated by an indie film director. If they went abroad, they didn’t do the standard tourist routes; they did a deeply intense, low-budget backpacking trip through South America. How else would they practice for their daily stair master?

They are the ones who spent three weeks sleeping on overnight trains, living entirely off local street food and vibes, and returning to Durham with an iron-on flag patch on a battered rucksack, a silver thumb ring, and a woven poncho they will insist on wearing to a 9am sociology lecture.

If they stayed in the UK, it was a thoroughly alternative endeavour. Probably working at an independent record store, volunteering at a charity shop, or spending six months in their shed recording a self-produced EP that they will casually mention within four minutes of meeting you.

The vinyl collection and vintage denims: Trevelyan

The Trev’s student started their year working at an independent vintage clothing shop (solely to secure a staff discount on oversized corduroy jackets). Then they ventured on their real gap-year, avoiding the standard tourist tracks in favour of interrailing through Europe with a sketchbook tucked under their arm. Either that, or they spent their year hiding out in niche indie film festivals in Berlin, smoking cigarettes and looking contemplative.

They return to Durham entirely convinced they have discovered underground art movements that the rest of the student body simply isn’t cultured enough to understand.

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