I'm a travel expert, but my daughter's gap year is freaking me out

As a parent, all you can do when your child is planning their gap year trip is hope you’ve taught them enough to make educated choices and let them go. 

The last thing I remember my dad howling at me before I left for my year-long solo backpacking adventure around Europe was, “Please stay sober on your trip – say no to alcohol!” At the age of 18 and with an itinerary kicking off in the red-light district of Amsterdam, this was clearly not going to happen, so I just lied through my teeth as I embarked on a year where many of my “cultural pursuits” were centred around the bars of Paris, Barcelona, Rome and more.

My postcards home, of course, revealed nothing of the park benches I was sleeping on when hostels were booked out, and did not mention my preferred mode of transport: the back of a cute local’s Vespa. Instead I wrote of visiting the Louvre and the smell of Venice in summer – the stuff parents want to hear.

It’s something I’m thinking a lot about lately as I help my 16-year-old daughter plan her own gap year throughout Europe, a process that has filled me with joy and terror in equal parts.

Years ago when my first book, Things My Daughter Needs to Know, came out, I was asked during an interview which piece of advice I most wanted my daughter to embrace. My answer remains the same now as it was back then: to be kind, but also to travel widely and as often as she could. I want her to see the wonders of the world, immerse herself in new cultures and customs and meet new people from all walks of life. Travel, as Mark Twain once said, is fatal to prejudice, bigotry and narrow-mindedness and I agree so wholeheartedly with its importance that I’ve built a whole career around helping others travel better.

Clearly, she’s taken the advice on board because most nights my daughter can be found poring over her laptop as she researches landmarks, bemoans the falling value of the Australian dollar and cost of hostels in Paris, and once again checks the balance of her gap- year savings account (she’s working two jobs to fund the trip). While I’m on hand to offer advice, I have to be mindful not to “Doc Holiday” the bejesus out of everything – much of the excitement is around the planning of the experience and what could be worse than having Escape’s travel advice columnist as your mother when you want to do things yourself?

I know it’s a bit rich to be freaking out about your daughter going on a trip you did yourself so many years ago, but there’s not only a world of difference between our childhoods (I was bred to be tough while the biggest hardship my teen has faced so far was the matcha shortage of 2024) but the world itself has changed.

Every news report about alcohol poisoning in resorts, dodgy taxi drivers and the internet normalising the worst behaviours humans are capable of sends my heart into palpitations. There’s so much out of our control. And then there’s the folly of youth, this great (and misplaced) belief you are invincible. Will there be museums on my daughter’s gap-year adventure? Certainly, but I’m sure her path will be just as cluttered with beer bottles and hot guys with great jawlines and bad intentions.

Frustrated by my desire for my daughter to travel independently and learn valuable life skills, but equally keen to protect her, I finally turned to my own parents for advice. All you can do, they told me, is hope you’ve taught them enough to make educated choices and let them go. “The one fate worse than death,” my father added, “is to live a very small life.” And so I’m letting go.

Originally published as I'm a travel expert, but my daughter's gap year is freaking me out