Two Countries, One Rather Complicated Identity

I grew up in the Philippines, where family gatherings could become entire social events, food was rarely prepared in quantities appropriate for the number of people attending, and neighbourhood news sometimes travelled faster than the people involved. Cebu was where I learned my earliest lessons about community, humour, relationships, and the peculiar ways people express affection, concern, and occasionally unsolicited advice.

Moving to the United Kingdom introduced me to an entirely different collection of customs. I discovered the extraordinary versatility of the word cheers, the importance of queuing, and the British ability to discuss the weather with the seriousness usually reserved for international diplomacy. I have also learned that understanding English and understanding British English are two separate achievements, preferably obtained with patience and a willingness to laugh at oneself.

Becoming a British citizen marked an important chapter in my life, but my Filipino heritage remains an inseparable part of who I am. I carry both countries in my experiences, habits, perspectives, and occasionally conflicting cravings. My passport may tell one part of the story, but my childhood, language, memories, and cultural roots tell the rest. I don’t consider these identities competitors. They simply occupy different shelves in the same rather crowded library.

THE NURSE BEHIND THE NOTEBOOK

By profession, I work as a Stroke Clinical Nurse Specialist in the NHS. Nursing has occupied a considerable part of my adult life, shaping the way I understand people, responsibility, uncertainty, and the sometimes astonishing unpredictability of an ordinary working day.

Working in healthcare has introduced me to individuals whose experiences, backgrounds, and perspectives differ enormously from my own. It has taught me to listen carefully, question assumptions, and recognise that even the most familiar circumstances can contain something unexpected. Stroke care, in particular, has deepened my appreciation for communication, human resilience, and the importance of noticing details that others might overlook.

Of course, twelve-hour shifts have also taught me less philosophical lessons, including the value of comfortable footwear, the extraordinary importance of a proper meal break, and why coffee occasionally feels like an essential workplace colleague. I take my professional responsibilities seriously, although I try not to take myself quite as seriously. Life is demanding enough without requiring every conversation to sound like a clinical handover.

THE PASSPORT OF CURIOSITY

I have always been fascinated by places, particularly the way a change of scenery can introduce an entirely different way of looking at familiar things. Travelling allows me to observe how people live, what they value, what they eat, how they communicate, and the small customs that make one place distinguishable from another.

I enjoy famous landmarks, beautiful landscapes, museums, historic streets, and the occasional destination that looks as though someone designed it specifically for a postcard. But I’m equally interested in quiet neighbourhoods, local cafés, unfamiliar grocery shops, and the ordinary details that rarely appear in travel brochures.

Some adventures involve carefully planned itineraries and spectacular views. Others involve getting lost, misinterpreting directions, discovering that a supposedly short walk is an ambitious geographical claim, or ordering food based almost entirely on optimism. Both make excellent stories, although the second category usually requires a little time before I find it amusing.

I write, I wander, I feel too much, and I believe that even the smallest day can carry something worth remembering.