What It Takes to Stay – Olga's story  

I was born and raised in Mexico City, a giant, noisy, chaotic, beautiful place where millions of people live close together and family is everywhere. I grew up surrounded by cousins, uncles, aunties, food, gatherings, and constant noise. Family shaped everything. When I was young, I wanted to be an architect, but life took me in a very different direction. 

When I was fifteen, my parents sent me to the United States to live with an American family for a year. They had known my family for generations, so there was trust. I barely spoke any English. On my first day of school, I cried because all I could say was “hello.” It was an incredibly hard year. I felt lonely and overwhelmed. But by the end of it, I had learned the language. When I returned to Mexico, my parents told me I should learn it properly. For three years, every afternoon after high school, I studied English grammar. 

Architecture was too competitive to get into, so I studied English instead and became a teacher. I worked throughout university, teaching in the afternoons and living with my parents so I could manage financially. Over time, I taught almost every level imaginable, from primary school to university. In 2007, I was selected for a Mexican government and British Council programme and spent a year in England as a Spanish language assistant. I loved the work. When the year ended, I returned to Mexico, then later, in 2012, moved to Dublin to continue my studies. 

Ireland changed everything again. When I finished the course, I did not want to return to Mexico. A friend suggested volunteering abroad, something that is not common where I am from. In Mexico, volunteering is often imagined as something simple and informal. But this was different. One opportunity led to another, and soon I was volunteering in Myanmar. 

I lived there for two years on school grounds, teaching English and later teaching methodology to teacher educators. Life in Myanmar was meaningful but very challenging. When the project was extended, I could have stayed longer, but my work partner was returning to England, and I felt it was time to go home. By then, I had been away from Mexico for four years without returning. I went back in 2017, just in time for the major earthquake in Mexico City. 

In 2018, my life changed again. I met my partner, a Welsh woman living in Mexico. We started dating, and then the pandemic arrived. We had barely been together when lockdown forced us into a tiny flat, all day, every day, for months. It was intense, sometimes beautiful, sometimes very hard. After that period, she felt the pull of home. She wanted to see her family again. We travelled to Wales for Christmas in 2019, and I met her family properly for the first time. 

In 2020, she told me she needed to return to Wales permanently. We got married in Mexico. To apply for my spouse visa, she needed a UK job with a specific salary, so she began applying from Mexico. The visa process was overwhelming. Endless documents, bank statements, personal details I never imagined having to share. It took months. 

She returned to Wales in July 2021. I stayed behind to finish work, sell everything, and prepare the move. I joined her that November. I was lucky. An admin position opened at her company and I got the job. I knew nothing about health and safety, but it gave me stability. A year later, I moved to the University of South Wales, where I still work in quality assurance. It is administrative work, but I am back in an academic environment, which matters to me. I can work partly from home and partly on campus. 

We lived first in Caerphilly and now in a small village between Caerphilly and Newport. People here are friendly. Wales has been good to me. I have never felt unsafe or threatened. But even after three years, I still do not feel that I have close Welsh friends. People at work are kind and welcoming, but there is a line between being friendly and being friends, and I have not crossed it. The things I think about, politics, racism, feminism, far right movements, are not always the topics people want to discuss over lunch. My closest friendships are still in Mexico and scattered across the world. It is not loneliness exactly, more a sense of distance. 

Even so, we love it here and want to stay long term. Maybe one day we will divide our time between Wales and Mexico. Winter in Mexico sounds very appealing. But the future feels uncertain with how the world is changing. 

Nothing in Wales reminds me of Mexico. Mexico City is loud, chaotic, dangerous, funny even in tragedy. Wales is quiet, green, clean. Here, people take things for granted that would be luxuries back home, like drinking water from the tap or clean air. In Mexico City, you carry heavy water bottles upstairs every few days because you cannot drink from the tap. Life is simply different. 

What I miss most is the food. I miss tacos so much that I regularly lose time watching street food videos online. 

Adjusting has been easier because my partner understands Mexican culture deeply. She lived in Mexico for seven years, speaks Spanish, understands the jokes, the food, the rhythms. I do not have to constantly translate myself. That makes an enormous difference. 

The immigration process has been one of the hardest parts. Renewing my visa meant more documents, more scrutiny, more expense. Next year, I will be eligible for indefinite leave to remain, if the rules do not change. It costs thousands of pounds and includes an exam that even many British people would struggle with. But it represents stability. 

What I want people to understand about immigration is that it is never simple. People see the surface and assume it was easy. They do not see the paperwork, the waiting, the anxiety, or the guilt. I think of friends in Myanmar who have so much less. My struggles are real, but they exist alongside privilege. You live with gratitude and guilt at the same time. 

Most of us come to build honest lives. To work, to love, to be safe. My partner and I are just another couple who crossed continents to be together. Like everyone else, we want a home, dignity, and ordinary happiness.