Gap year tales: Backpacks, beer and beauty queens

I’d like to claim that in going to Northern India for a few months and pretending to teach in a rural primary school, before riding on the roofs of buses and acquiring a necklace and a shit beard as I backpacked and boasted about staying in rank guesthouses for 50p a night, I was ironically subverting the “gap yah” cliché by buying into it, knowingly and fully. But I wasn’t - I was just another privileged white kid on tour with the self-awareness of a street cow. Yes, it was still the best time of my life, so perhaps I shouldn’t wince to recall it, but I kind of do.
Simon Usborne, feature writer

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