Why I Want to Leave the Best City in the World
To me, London has always been the best city in the world. It was the best city in the world when it was the only city I knew, and it’s still the best city in the world after years of travelling opportunities. Nothing beats its grandeur, spectacle, beauty, culture, population size, infrastructure, or amenities. Not for me, anyway.
At the start of the pandemic, I had no particular desire to live outside of the UK. I grew exceptionally frustrated with my lack of ability to travel abroad, especially with growing vested interests in my personal life drawing me across the map. But I had no reason to want to leave; as I’d always professed, London had everything I needed and wanted. I got to live in a monstrously massive city, metropolitan to its core with one of the most multicultural populations on earth; its relevance on a global scale could not be underrated, and nothing I could ever want would fail to be found here; public transport emulated the cartographically spaghetti-like systems found in Tokyo or Seoul, and the government subsidised my travel as an epileptic with no ability to drive. On top of all that, its proximity to mainland Europe, as well as its position on the western side of the continent, made it a perfect international travel hub, and I’ve never had to worry about the cost of healthcare nor risk of natural disasters. By all accounts, London is the perfect place for me to live.
For years, I have adored North America. Even long before I first got to go there, I spent a lot of my teens and childhood years imagining the places I would visit. The first place I can remember wanting to see as a kid was Edmonton, Alberta, Canada. I’ll be honest, that’s way less of a pressing destination for me these days, but I applaud the uniqueness. The first trip I paid for myself was to Austin, Texas, and it became something of an aim for me to return to the US every year since.
As COVID dragged on, my desire-turned-desperation to cross the Atlantic became more of a detriment to my everyday life. So many of my friends were over there. Places and people that made me happy, and an environment that gave me a change of pace from the everyday London life. In fact, my lack of ability to leave London started to make its flaws far more perceptible to me. I wanted to go to Canada more than anything, and London just didn’t have the lakes and mountains and hockey that they did. I wanted to go back to California, and London just didn’t have the beach and sun and vastness that they did. As time went on, it became more and more obvious to me that all I was feeling at home in London was trapped.
Right now, two years on from the genesis of the pandemic, I am twenty-five years old. Other than my first couple of years of life, I have only ever lived maximum fifty miles from London. I come from a good background, I’ve had a taste of English rural and globally urban life. I’m lucky to be able to live in one of the nicest neighbourhoods in my city. But it has become painstakingly clear to me that this is all I have ever known in life. And the idea of looking back in another five years, and knowing that the first thirty years of my life all took place in the same location, terrifies me. I grew up with a parent who was always abroad, and I have friends who live outside of their countries of birth, and I see the wonder in it. Everything I ever wanted as an adolescent was to make my roots in London and stay there forever, but these days that idea makes me feel anxious.
I have a ton of issues with North America. The healthcare situation in the US, as well as the lack of public transport infrastructure in basically every city outside of New England and Chicago, would cast a very serious, incontrovertible shadow on my life that I’ve never had to worry about. Canadian cities, beautiful as they are, are far less populated than my taste would idealise. The malls and shopping streets suck compared to what we have in Europe. Living minimum 3000, maximum 6000, miles from my family and English friends would be a big deal; I may not visit them super frequently, but knowing they’re there is extremely comforting.
That said, I cannot deny the fact that being in North America just makes me happy. And while London makes me happy too, the things that bring me happiness here aren’t new. I’ve reached a point where the things London can’t offer me are more noticeable than the things it can. I’ve benefited from its wonderous opportunities and amenities for so long, I feel like it’s time to experience a place that ticks some of the boxes London does not — even if that means unticking some in the process. And if I come back after a year concluding that I’d prefer to be in the UK, then that’s okay too. At least I will never be left wondering what my life would be like if I stepped out of the sphere in which I’d always lived.
Sometimes I guilt trip myself into thinking I should stay, because of what I’d be throwing away if I left. But truthfully, staying boxed up because the outside world is scary is no way to live. London will always be my home, and I know it will be here for me if ever I decided to return.
