As far as summer holidays go, my recent break on the West Indian island of Dominica, the land of my maternal heritage, has been eye opening, to say the least.
I’ve learnt a great deal about myself, most importantly that I am a city girl through and through and let’s just say nature and I aren’t exactly the best of friends. I’ve also learnt that despite my grandparents being born in Dominica and my mother having lived there two years of her life, I feel frighteningly foreign in the country.
After ten days spent living in extremely basic and rural accommodation, I was absolutely ecstatic to board the plane home. However, after my initial feelings of elation subsided I was left feeling slightly guilty for being so desperate to leave the island. As someone that doesn’t really identify with being British, where on Earth do I belong if I can’t even spend 10 days in my home country?