Why would anyone live here?

During the last couple of weeks, I have spent an alarming amount of money. On two consecutive nights I dined out at expensive restaurants, with starters and wine and the 12.5% service charge that gets automatically added (since when was 12.5% the going rate?!). I have bought pints of craft beer, clothes, tickets, and I paid a lot of money to hire a venue in the countryside for my birthday. Then there is the small issue of public transport, which is completely unavoidable in a city as vast as London. TfL is a needy lover in my bank statement that refuses to leave me in peace, perhaps because I can’t stop myself from going back (no but really, I can’t stop). I recently took a short break from working which was nowhere near short enough to protect me from a money haemorrhage. Spending without earning can only mean one thing for your bank balance; spending in London without earning is one step short of financial suicide. It might seem odd that I chose to pay a premium for a tasting menu when I could have cooked a £1.50 dahl, or that I chose to drink a Neck Oil when I could’ve had a Carling (or better yet, stayed home), but why would staying at home be a compelling option in a city like this one? This trade-off is one that most of us make, consciously or subconsciously, simply by signing up to reside in this thrilling, throbbing, thrashing cosmopolis. Why the hell do we do it to ourselves?

A friend of mine recently moved back to Italy, her home country, after over a decade spent living and working in different parts of London. I was entering in from the other side of the revolving door with the knowledge that London was one of the most famously expensive cities in the world and already too aware of the formidable housing crisis that has caused me such an incredible headache from the moment I started looking for a place to live. My friend warned me that London was an abusive lover that somehow leaves you depleted and unsatisfied but hungry for more, and I wondered what I was getting myself into.

Six months later, I feel I have a slightly better impression of the great London allure that draws people in from all corners of the world, but this huge city remains to be a bit of an illusion. For a start, I don’t really think you can call it a city. London is pretty disjointed: a collection of cities, all with their own unique communities, heritages, histories, high streets, rules on what you can recycle, etc. Some ‘central’ zone 2 locations are actually more inaccessible than other neighbouring cities like St Albans or Reading. There is a North/South divide which seems to partition those living above or below the Thames in much deeper ways than their physical location – for many, their positioning in relation to the river is something they will all but end friendships over. London has different areas that attract certain diasporas from around the world, like the thriving Carribean community in Peckham, or the ‘Little Portugal’ that exists in Stockwell. Some of the most obscenely wealthy areas are often not more than a stone’s throw from council estates that look like Summerhouse from Top Boy. The incredible variety of people and langauges and entertainment and cuisines could be what makes London such a unique and enticing destination for the hoards of people that choose to move here each year.

Whilst London may not stand up to the vast metropolises of Tokyo, Delhi or São Paulo, the dramatic diversity in London is what makes it one of the world’s greatest cosmopolises (read melting pot). Centuries of rich history have brought so many people with so many perspectives together in one sprawling mass of life; each foreign language you hear, or piece of exotic fruit on a market stall, is a reminder of this. It's quite magical to open yourself up to extreme difference every single day, and to realise that in coexisting we are affirming a fundamental commonality that overrides any of the superficial distinctions that you might see at first glance. We are all just people, fighting for our lives in the glory of this expansive (and expensive) energy vortex.

In all of the turmoil and tribulation of the first few confusing months of this year, when I was about to leave my job and I was unhappy in my previous house, why did I cling on to my place here? When I relinquished my ties to this overpriced and overcrowded city, I could have easily gone home to the cheap and sometimes-cheerful hills of West Yorkshire, or even back to enjoy the sun and practice my Spanish in South America. Why did I barely even consider leaving London?

This time last year, I saw London as a shiny city of exciting opportunity that was for other people to explore and enjoy, but not meant for me. So many of my friends moved here, en masse, after graduating and although I could certainly see the attraction, I found a much greater attraction in foreign countries and sunny weather. Little did I know you can actually find more Cumbia (my favourite kind of Latin music) in Brixton than you can in Medellín; the injera - fermented Ethiopian flatbread - you find in Shephard’s Bush is just as good as in East Africa (so I’m told); you can watch films from the French New Wave more easily in the independent cinemas of Shoreditch than in the mainstream cinemas of France; you can learn Muay Thai in English and go for a German wheat beer when you’re done. I am trying to take advantage of this magnificent opportunity to travel the world from my doorstep, but I think my newfound determination to stay in London comes from something different. I think I have come to realise that the real magnet for me has been my friends. Nowhere else in the world do I have the same possibility for connection and community as I have here, now. Being close to people that I love, who understand me and share my idea of fun, has been a lifeline for me over the past six months and I'm not sure any amount of sun or cheap rent could make me trade that in. Of course, if I could have it my way I would scoop everyone up and relocate us to somewhere with an average temperature of approximately 12 degrees higher than London’s, but apparently you can’t force everyone you know to move abroad with you. I’m enjoying myself too much to compromise on a healthy and stimulating social life, and I’m told we’ll be heading into the warmer months any minute now (right!?). That means that despite the cost of living and the housing crisis and the inordinate amount of time spent on public transport, I’m staying put…at least for now.