My name is Ashley ...

Thailand 2004. My girlfriend had left me for some German guy who had a lot more money to spend on her than I had. After spending $1000 on her and her family, I was left with less than a dollar. I lost my job in a school as an English teacher and thrown out of my home. Welcome to Thailand!

Homeless, jobless and penniless roaming the streets of Bangkok, I started to get to know other ex-pats in my class, which enabled me to survive. This went on for a few months until Thai immigration eventually caught up with me and arrested me for being visa-less. After spending a week in lumpini police custody, I was moved on to the Immigration Detention Centre (IDC). After a week in IDC I managed to get permission to use the phone to contact my brother. I quickly discovered this is not a service Thai Immigration paid for and that I would have to foot the bill for an overseas call. I had to wait for the British Embassy to pay me a visit and I was put on a waiting list.

After waiting two long weeks, Gary (the man from the British Embassy) came to see me. I had about 10 minutes to try to get as much information as possible to him, as I wasn’t the only Brit there. I finally was lent some money by Gary to call my brother in which I had another week to wait for our block to get the privilege of using the phone. We were all marched out like criminals to an open cage in which the phones were situated. After a lot of pushing with the majority Africans, which I always found to be very intimidating, I eventually got to speak with my brother. ‘You know Mam’s dead, don’t you?’ my knees trembled and almost gave way. ‘No’ was my reply. I forgot the rest of our 2 minute phone conversation, but I remember telling him where I was and asking for his help.

It took 48 days more or less in Immigration before I was escorted to the airport and flown back to the UK, Cardiff. As a result of my mother’s death, I had nowhere to live. My brother told me I couldn’t stay with him, because he has his own family and there was no room. I tried getting in contact with some old friends, but they were too wrapped up in their own lives to worry about me.

With my two sets of clothes, a small bag and no money, I aimlessly walked the streets of Cardiff, un-acclimatised in the cold May weather with just my tropical clothes. I was freezing! After two days of running around, being sent here and there by all the different authorities, I was eventually pointed in the direction of Cardiff YMCA. My Saviour!

I remember it being a Friday, because I was able to spend the weekend in the Emergency Bed and was then moved to a more permanent room. Mm! The food! It was just delicious. I hadn’t eaten for two or three days. Breakfast and Lunch! I felt human again. I must have weighed 60kg. I was so hungry and the food was just great, with so many choices.

Within the nine months I stayed at the Cardiff YMCA, I managed to take a course offered by DFL doing Learn Direct ECDL, and was given help with my CV and to get my confidence back. I managed to get my passport and after nine months, I was offered a teaching position at Manor Courses in Somerset. I worked there for six weeks and in the meantime was offered a more permanent position in Warsaw, Poland.

After a further nine months my contract ended, so I decided to do some exploring. I travelled to Istanbul, Turkey, back to Poland, then a short time in Bournemouth, England, then on to Setubal, Portugal Avila, Spain, back to Poland again, Lyon France, Bangkok, Thailand and finally to Phnom Penh, Cambodia for two years. I had had my ups and downs in Cambodia and took part in the daily struggle of life there in a way that most British tourists couldn’t possibly comprehend.

I’ve always been a survivor, but when I became ill with an Amoebic liver abscess and was in too much pain to work and became immobile, I knew I had to get back to the UK for medical help. An old friend of the family came to my aid! (Simon). He paid for my immediate medical costs and airfare back to the UK. The British Embassy was disappointedly unhelpful as usual. Never assume that if you travel to a foreign destination, that the British Embassy will look after you. Big mistake!

My friend came to the rescue and before I knew it, after a 24 hour travel plan, I was back in the UK Cardiff, in pain, with nowhere to go and about £20 in my pocket. Eventually, I admitted myself to the University Hospital of Wales and was treated there for ten days after which they told me I was fit enough to leave, even though I was faced yet again with the dire prospect of homelessness.

I was disappointed at first when I was told by the Cardiff YMCA that there was a waiting list, but they directed me to Custom House where I would stay until there was a room vacant at the Cardiff YMCA. Custom House to me was although full of alcoholics and drug users, a sanctuary out of the freezing cold March nights. It was only two days before the YMCA called me to inform me there was a room vacant. Great news!

Still freezing, I walked about 2 km’s to Cardiff YMCA and waited there until the cleaners had prepared the room. First night, I will never forget the luxury of sleeping on a nice soft mattress again, after spending 2 night’s on Custom House’s floor. It felt like the best sleep I have ever had.

After adjusting over the next few days, I quickly took advantage of the courses on offer at DFL (Design for Life) which is located next to the YMCA. I joined the Learn Direct ECDL course again, and got lots of helpful advice regarding courses. I was given a support worker who was very helpful and eventually was offered a flat through the PRS Scheme.

To summarise my somewhat interesting experience and make any comparisons, I think the residents and myself are eternally grateful and lucky to have such a place that when everything can go wrong in your life - you know there is always hope when you have such an organisation as the YMCA.