Day trips in my family tend to take the form of several hours in a hot car on the way to the south coast, followed by 40 minutes wandering aimlessly over sand-dunes as storm clouds gather, and then another couple of hours in the car, in order to arrive back home in a foul temper. The temper is partly induced by having to spend what seems an inordinate amount time in a confined space with our nearest and dearest, and partly by the fact that whenever we choose to make these day trips, every single restaurant, café and hot food stall on the south coast has closed for the day, forcing us to eat our ‘emergency’ bacon sandwiches, which have spent the journey down congealing in a sorry brown paper bag.
Perhaps one day I will reminisce about these trips as the crowning joy of my youth, but I sincerely doubt it.
It seemed almost too good to be true, then, when I was offered a family outing to Bruges for the day, prompted by the film ‘In Bruges’. Pouncing on the idea, I assured my father that the journey would be painless and cheap, and so we had booked and paid for the Dover-Calais Eurotunnel crossing within minutes of the mini-break being suggested – I use the word “mini-break” hesitantly, as it conjures up the image of couples ensconced in Paris hotel rooms, but I’ve run out of synonyms, so you’ll just have to grin and bear it. We decided to travel by car, as opposed to Eurostar, because the flexible ticketing system allowed us to deviate from our schedule as much or as little as we wanted.
I didn’t escape from the emergency bacon sandwiches, which were furtively packed into the well of the passenger seat just before we left home at five o’clock in the morning for Dover. The journey, however, was as painless as I had promised. Four hours door to door, most of it was spent on the fast-flowing, seamlessly flat motorway in Flanders which delivers you straight to the outskirts of Bruges.
It must be noted that Bruges is a picturesque but very strange place. I have never been to a city before whose inhabitants subsist entirely on pralines and lace, or so it seems, at least, when you look at the shops in the city centre, which uniformly alternate between chocolatiers and haberdasheries. Having said that, I’m not entirely sure that I can claim to have actually seen any natives of Bruges during the eight or so hours we spent in the city, as there were more tourists than you could shake a Thomas Cook brochure at. But when you get used to the idea that Bruges is essentially a life-size version of Disney World, and actually buy into the whole thing, you begin to enjoy it. We took a boat ride along the city’s canals, and climbed the belfry, and lunched on traditional Belgian Waterzooi stew. We even visited the quieter residential districts of the city, with their architectural mix of modernist and traditional Flemish styles, and their liberating lack of Segway-touting tour groups, which plague the city’s two main squares.
For a city of such small stature, Bruges has an incredibly rich variety of sights, from the manicured Beguinage monastery to the enormous Gothic town hall, and the small but perfectly formed Groeninge museum, which houses one third of Belgium’s national collection of Flemish art. If you’re prepared to spend half a day travelling and half a day soaking up art, culture and food – and why not? – then Bruges could be the perfect day trip.
> Bruges travel guides and maps
Author: James White
Yerevan – a little slice of California in the Caucasus?
Truth to tell, Hardy’s Monument looks more like a factory chimney than a memorial to a national hero. But the views over Dorset are sensational. Even more stunning is the prospect from the steep ridge above Waddon House, where we paused on the way back to Portesham. Downs and farmlands, the shingle bar of Chesil Beach, St Catherine’s Chapel on its knoll of strip lynchets, the Devil’s quoits pitch of Portland lying like the Gibraltar of Wessex on a bay of molten silver – if any view could entice an adventurous lad to sea, it would be this.
Istanbul, previously known as Byzantium or Constantinople and 2010’s European Capital of Culture, has long been considered an unmissable destination. The city offers everything from shopping and relaxation, to culture and historic landmarks.
For most Americans, and visitors, 
The following day I left the major interstate behind and followed local state highways on my way to Theodore Roosevelt National Park. Travelling these smaller roads you can really appreciate the size and emptiness of North Dakota. There were long moments all the way until distant horizon when I couldn’t see a single vehicle in the front or rear view mirrors.
During the few days I spent in the Black Hills, the weather wasn’t entirely cooperative. Rainy afternoons and evenings meant that I didn’t camp (even if I was tempted by some nicely located campgrounds) but instead used motels in Rapid City as my base. Still, I managed to hike a bit. One of the trails I do recommend is one leading to the Cathedral Spires. It starts from the small parking lot just off the SD highway 87 (part of the scenic byway) and leads to the top of some spectacular rock formations. From the top you can see even more rocky madness (spires, boulders, domes, etc.) It is a short but rather steep hike, especially the final section, where you climb some exposed rocks. If you prefer something easier, head just a few miles down the road to Sylvan Lake which offers a flat trail encircling it. Perfect for a half hour stroll, and you can still enjoy rocky scenery.
From Alliance, the scenic byway continues for almost 300 miles in the east–southeast direction, crossing through the middle of the Sand Hills region. What makes the scenery of this part of the state so interesting is one of the world largest sand dunes systems. It is probably the largest dune area in the western hemisphere. Most people think of desert when they hear word dune but they are wrong. Dunes in Nebraska are actually covered by grass which makes them spectacularly green and also stabilise them to create a hilly, pastoral landscape. Highway 2 winds peacefully between these dunes, crossing small towns from time to time. One of them is Mullen in Hooker County. No, it is not me who stole the road signs with that county name on it, even if I have though about it. It was one of the most relaxing days during my trip. A lazy drive, not going anywhere in particular, just sort of floating in space. A day when I saw more cows than people. Such days, for me, are the highlights of a holiday in America.
We all know the song – ‘If you in down to the woods today, you are in for a big surprise…’ – well I am yet to see any teddy bears having a picnic in the Black Forest, but you do have a good chance to see black squirrels!
Before you head off on that luxury beach break to make you the envy of all your friends and give you a to-die-for tan (bleak pun intended), think carefully about what kind of things you really enjoy doing. If you force yourself to visit museums only because you think you should but actually prefer to shop, don’t be afraid to incorporate your real interests into your gap year.
The kind of travelling you’ve already done should help you decide what you want to do now. You have two options: stick with what you know or try something new. I highly recommend the latter.
Your gap year experience will partly depend on whom you share it with, so choose your travel companion(s) carefully.