A home, far from home – Enrique’s story  

My name is Enrique Q. Diaz. I was born in 1976 in Santiago, Chile, into a loving family. My mother stayed at home to raise us, and my father worked hard as a lawyer. I have a sister who still lives in Chile. In many ways, my childhood was happy, but it also unfolded under dictatorship. I was born three years after General Pinochet came to power, and he remained in control until 1989. 

Politics shaped daily life, but within the safety of family, we talked freely, often around the dinner table. Those conversations mattered. They taught me to question, to listen, and to care about the wider world. 

We lived in central Santiago until a major earthquake in 1985 forced us to move to the outskirts of the city. I stayed in education, became a journalist, and began working in media. I covered show business, which I enjoyed, and later wrote for a university and a bank. I also taught society and culture at a college. But despite all this, I felt unfulfilled. I had not travelled much, and I began to crave something more, adventure, perspective, and a sense of the world beyond Chile. 

The problem was simple. How do you leave a country at the end of the world with little money and no plan? 

The answer came unexpectedly during a casual conversation at work. A colleague mentioned a friend who worked on cruise ships. That was it. Travel, income, adventure. It sounded like exactly what I needed. I created a slightly exaggerated CV, paid for some basic training, and took a leap of faith. In December 2004, I flew to Florida and boarded a Royal Caribbean ship. 

The beginning was chaos. I got lost constantly, did not know where to eat, and accidentally survived on crisps and water. I lost fifteen kilograms in weeks. But I learned fast. Soon, I was helping with bilingual menus and finding my rhythm. I travelled the world, the Caribbean, the Americas, Europe. One day Venice, the next Monte Carlo. Life felt unreal. 

That is where I met Alana, a spa therapist from Wales. We fell in love. In 2007, we married, and I left ship life behind to move to Llanelli, South Wales. 

The change was huge. Cruise ship life was fast, glamorous, and free. Llanelli was quiet, close-knit, and unfamiliar. Everyone seemed to know each other already. I struggled to find my place. Making friends was hard. I missed simple things, someone to have a coffee with and to share everyday life. I made one close friend, Islwyn, but he moved to Australia not long after. Once again, I was starting from scratch. 

Work was just as difficult. My journalism degree did not carry much weight in the UK. I worked in restaurants, drawing on my cruise experience, but it was not fulfilling. Then, out of nowhere, an opportunity appeared. I pitched an idea to a local businessman, selling Chilean wine online. To my surprise, he invested £100,000. We imported 10,000 bottles and ran the business from Llanelli. It was intense, exciting, and exhausting. By 2013, competition became too strong and we closed, but it remains one of the most memorable chapters of my life. 

The real turning point came through volunteering. I met a woman who taught Spanish and English to Syrian refugees. She mentioned she was stepping back from her classes. That stayed with me. My mother had lost her father young and, in Chile, had been supported by a Palestinian family who became lifelong friends. When I saw refugees arriving in Wales, I felt a connection. I thought maybe it was my turn to give something back. 

I volunteered teaching English to refugees for two years. Alongside an amazing tutor, Laura, we helped people find their voices in a new language. Eventually, the council offered me a job. I have now been teaching for over a decade. I also teach Spanish privately, which I love. Teaching became my passion, something I never expected. 

Slowly, I built a life here. My son was born in 2008, my daughter in 2013. But belonging took time. Even buying a house did not make it immediate. Strangely, it was returning to tennis, a childhood passion, that finally made me feel rooted. Joining a local club brought friendships and community.  

One moment that defined Wales for me was realising I could leave my car unlocked overnight without fear. Back in Santiago, everything was locked. Caution was a way of life. When we moved into our house here in 2011, with its open garden and no gate, I panicked. What about the bikes? But nothing ever happened. That is when I understood what real safety meant. Not just the absence of crime, but the presence of trust and community. 

As a father, that means everything. I want my children to grow up safe, valued, and seen. I have learned what it means to live somewhere people look out for one another and stand up for their rights, and yours. 

I miss Chile deeply, especially my parents, now in their eighties. Being far from them is the hardest part. Every visit is precious, every goodbye heavy with worry. During COVID, strangely, I felt calmer. No travel, no impossible choices, no guilt. 

Looking forward, my hopes are simple. I want my children to thrive and be good people. I keep learning myself. I have completed a degree in management and leadership and am now studying for a master’s part-time. I also run a business bringing international students, mainly from Chile and Spain to study in Wales, supporting them and their families as they settle. 

Most importantly, I am working toward creating a charity with a former refugee I once supported, to help new migrants find their way. I know how hard it is to start again. This feels like a full circle. Palestinians once helped my mother in Chile. Now I help others here. 

What do I want people to know about migrants like me? 

We are not here to take. We are here to give. To build. To belong. Migration is hard, but it also brings new energy, ideas, and care. Wales has been good to us. Welsh people, when they become your friends, are friends for life. 

My message is simple. Stay positive. Keep learning. Say yes to opportunities. Learn the language. Make friends. And when you can, help someone else do the same. 

That is how you build a life. 
That is how you build a legacy.