For those of you reading this, four months into my time on Réunion Island, hopefully, you can understand why this first post about my time here is so belated. As many other hopeful English Language assistants currently living on the island, I was at first naively optimistic about how easy this transition would be. At first glance, it seems like the perfect opportunity for a twenty-year-old humanities student – a government-funded adventure in paradise with many like-minded individuals. My first dreams about life here were filled with sandy beaches and bonfire parties under the stars, and, like many fantasies, it was embedded at least in some part, by the truth. Needless to say, my life here has given me so much more than I had expected at the beginning of this adventure, but there has also been a fair share of struggles, tears, and the occasional quick Google for a ticket home.

First Impressions

The week before my arrival here, I naturally started to get a bit anxious about my imminent departure halfway across the world, and on further investigation discovered many important facts about Réunion. For those of you who, like me, had never heard of Réunion before, here is some key information about the island:

1. Réunion is part of the overseas departments of France, however, unlike other regions such as Martinique, has a much more developed infrastructure.
2. Due to the “diverse history” of the island (ie. slavery and forced labour), the island is a proudly proclaimed “melting pot”, with many religions and ethnicities visible in the community.
3. Réunion is also a volcano hotspot and is home to one of the most active volcanoes in the world, Piton de la Fournaise, which has had approximately 100 eruptions since 1640.
4. And finally, the island has an online reputation as the “shark capital of the world”, with eight fatal attacks since 2011.

Needless to say, the last two facts made me decidedly anxious about my arrival here, as a sheltered life in West London did not prepare me for this Temple of Doom life I was about to be embarking on. More importantly, I have never learnt to swim, and to the amazement of anyone in my life with any sense at all, I was about to move to a shark-infested island for seven months…and no I did not have a death wish.

Geographically the island is very interesting, with long-held social stereotypes dividing the 800,000 people who currently live here. Saint-Denis, the capital city in the North represents the only urbanised area on the island – a microcosm of diversity, opportunity and violence all wrapped up into one. The West of the island is a mini Saint-Tropez, with kitch juice bars and amateur Instagram models carefully placed on some of the nicest beaches on the island. The Eastside of the island is widely uninhabited, due to fumes and debris from the volcano. Finally, I live in the “city in the South”, Saint Pierre, known for its laidback atmosphere and array of cute but overpriced boutiques.

On a personal level, the people here are generally lovely and have shown me a kindness that would seem almost ludicrous back home. People’s doors are always open (in both senses) and I was ushered around banks, healthcare centres, and supermarkets during my first weeks here out of sheer goodwill from my colleagues. I’ve been allowed a glimpse into the daily lives that people live here: dinners, movie nights and family picnics are the only things which kept me going at the beginning and being an only child, I’ve really enjoyed being part of these new families. Family is valued here in the purest sense, and on Sunday’s the beaches are filled with groups of loved ones eating potluck’s and running around in the sun. That said, you really don’t need a beach or a nice picnic spread or even an excuse to make time with ones you love, something perhaps I’ve only appreciated being so far away from them.