A palm-fringed island is no paradise when you can’t see your family

I am sitting here on a white sand beach in Upolu, Samoa, with turquoise waters stretching before me and palm trees blowing in the breeze, and to many people, including many of my friends, this view is paradise.

But being stuck on a dreamy island in the middle of the South Pacific – going on five months now, with nothing to do and no end in sight – has made me reevaluate what paradise actually is.

I’ve come to familiarise myself with a line from the movie The Beach about what paradise means; it’s “not where you go. It’s how you feel for a moment in your life when you’re a part of something”.

I couldn’t agree more now. Paradise is not a location, it’s a feeling.

It’s the feeling of happiness that you only ever get when you are in the company of family and friends – Skype and Zoom doesn’t count – and if you are with them, then the location is completely irrelevant.

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I came out to the volcanic island of Upolu back in 2016 to open a diving and water sports centre called Pure Ocean with my business partner Bruno Kinross.

I usually spend two months in Samoa then two months in London, where my partner Becky and four-year-old son Oliver live. so I am away from my family for roughly six months a year.

In the past, I worried I was losing out on my little boy’s life, but this time I have been gone for a painfully long time.

Samoa closed its borders to the world at the end of March due to the coronavirus pandemic.

Nobody has been allowed in or out of the country since, and state of emergency orders are still in place.

Because of that, tourism is now non-existent and many resorts have been forced to close, along with their affiliated businesses.

Pure Ocean has been closed since April and I don’t see us being able to open in the foreseeable future with everything indicating that borders will remain closed here in Samoa until next year.

There is no government help whatsoever for businesses like ours so we just have to hope that the borders can open sooner rather than later or we simply may not be able to open our business again.

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I am also effectively stuck here.

I cannot just leave my house, business and dogs and hope they will still be here when I return.

But also, if I did leave them, getting back to the UK from the other side of the world, with so many borders still closed, is not an easy task.

My usual journey home involves flying to either Sydney or Auckland then connecting to Singapore before flying to London. The journey time is around 38 to 50 hours depending on the transfer times. It would be near impossible at the moment.

It’s hard being trapped here and so far away from the people I love.

I talk to friends and family every week or so and my partner Becky every day. My little boy calls me every morning at 6.30am his time, which is 6.30pm on the island.

We use Skype and it’s wonderful to have face-to-face communication and a glimpse into a world I don’t feel part of right now.

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But I get a different feeling talking through the phone or computer, the conversations are different. They’re not bad or anything, just different from being there in person.

That’s why being stuck here so far away has really made me think about the meaning of paradise. The situation has also made me think about what it is to be a parent – I guess as parents we take it all for granted sometimes.

My advice would be to cherish every moment. Put down the games controller, turn off the TV, shut that laptop, turn your phone on silent or just stop working once you are at home.

The time you have face to face with your child now is worth so much to them, but worth even more to you.

If you are lucky enough to be with your child every day, then make it count. If you wake up every morning to your children and loved ones, trust me, you are in paradise!

My biggest wish at the moment, apart from world peace and an end to Covid-19, is quite simple. I want a cuddle from my little boy. I want to see my family.