16/11/2013

The Londoner


I can’t remember a time when I didn’t yearn to live in London. I’d travel down the country to visit it every so often, and initially it never occurred to me to hide my excitement.

As soon as I got off the train, my walk would turn into an unselfconscious skip, I’d smile at the infamously unfriendly London strangers and unabashedly cause chaos at the Underground barriers because of my cumbersome bags overflowing with souvenirs and adrenaline-fuelled purchases.

I’d stand in front of every possible landmark with my mouth in a wide smile and eyes popping out of my skull, posing for photos. My eyes would ache as I walked down Oxford Street past impossibly well-dressed people that looked more alluring and important than anyone I'd seen before. Clutching my camera and a battered bottle of water, I desperately wished for their lives - the glamorous ones I’d fabricate in my head, that is, and ones I was convinced I was destined to, deserved, and was missing out on. London had a je ne sais quoi and I so desperately wanted in on it.

As I got older, however, I developed a new demeanour as a London tourist. I tried to adopt an air of nonchalance, lazily hopping on the tube with my head down and fighting the urge to smile, as if I did it every day on auto-pilot. On the inside, I wondered if others looked at me and assumed I lived in London. The possibility sent tingles down the back of my neck. 

Whenever I visited London in the rain, I’d imagine future me sat in a café, drinking tea and watching tourists run past with bags full of shopping. I’d roll my eyes and fondly remember the days when I was one of them, and not the rain, nor anything else, could deter me from the streets.

I’d imagine late nights in busy Central London bars with people so interesting I’d feel inadequate. Long Saturdays visiting vintage shops and cafes, cultured friends, smartly dressed colleagues. I’d imagine a new and improved life, where the best of the city was drawn to me like a magnet and exciting opportunities were aplenty.

My idea of the reality of living in London wasn’t completely wrong, I just didn’t have the capacity to understand how much perception could alter the appearance, feel and experience of something so ostensibly unchangeable and solid. The London I visited and the London I now live in are two very different cities.

The London I saw as a visitor was tube stations, Oxford Street, Camden market, Big Ben. Instead, the London I’m greeted with every morning when I wake is a block of flats, a thin slither of sky, and the floor of my balcony – the few square metres of London that others don’t walk on.

When I step out of the building I live in, I see a nondescript street of coffee shops and hairdressers. It could be anywhere in the world, until I turn my head and see The City poking the clouds. But the disparity between the two Londons has very little to do with what meets the eye.

It’s no mystery that perception determines and alters the way we see the world and the people in it, and that this evolves as we get older. An example of this is the film Matilda. I recently watched it for the first time since binging on it in 1996. Naturally, I saw a completely different film as an adult. It was clearer, the jokes funnier, but ultimately it was no longer magical.

This time around I see London clearer. I understand it better, but it doesn’t warm me with the comforting, naïve promise that the world will always be what I want it to be. With both childhood films and reality, I've come to miss the power of perception.

I never would have known it, but living in London makes me feel cut off from the real world. I always disregarded those that said London can feel like the loneliest place. Feeling lonely in the county’s capital isn’t something that stops sounding ridiculous until you live it.

Reading articles, watching television, absorbing anything about humans makes me feel disconnected from the world. We regularly hear references to ‘the family’, ‘the home’, ‘the neighbours’. But when living in London, especially when you’re relatively young, means a room, not a home, and the street you live on can feel as unfamiliar as a street on the other side of the city.

Back in the days of being a tourist to London, the swarms of people on every street would make me feel calm. I blended in, and the insignificance I felt alleviated any worries. Now I step out of my room and I feel vertiginous with the amount of people. The feeling of insignificance that once calmed me now feels like it’s choking me. But the people haven’t changed. The way they rush around with their heads down and eyes fixed ahead is still the same.

When I was younger I didn’t factor in the size of London’s population and how that would affect me. Not being able to go for a solitary walk, never having the flat to myself, never being able to truly be alone is draining, and not as exciting as I once imagined. 

We go through life with an inner monologue, a consciousness, an awareness of our own minds. We always think we know ourselves, even when we learn that we’ve made mistakes and misjudgements. Growing up, I thought that when I was an adult I’d gravitate towards social situations, flourish in big groups of people and seek adventure. I was extremely introverted, as I still am now, but I thought I would change to suit my surroundings. 

My perception has become a clearer reflection of who I am, not who I wish I could be. I can sit in front of my computer with a candle for company and call it an evening. Once upon a time I would have seen such behaviour as a cry for help in a city like London. But now, it makes me content.

I don’t worry that I'm not suited to London, nor do I regret moving here. London is a challenge, and not just because of its busy streets and expensive rent. It’s a place many people set their dreams, and if you don’t turn out to be the person you once hoped, it can be hard living somewhere that looks different to what you imagined.

Growing up means coming to terms with who you are and letting go of the fight to be a different version of yourself. Our perception draws closer to reality as life chisels away at our naivety, and there’s nothing more beautiful than seeing the world through the eyes of who you truly are.

19 comments:

  1. An interesting post as always. I love London. I adore musicals and so the West End is just like heaven to me. I even got engaged at the Apollo Victoria Theatre this year. I've visited twice a year for the past two and always felt like I'd love to live there. However, I always suspected that the reality of that would probably be quite different, as you say. The novelty of being a visitor is probably what makes it feel so alive to me.
    I get the idea that I'd feel the same way as you do. I too can call an evening alone an event, and do, and I'm learning to be okay with that.

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  2. Thank you Jordan! Definitely - whenever I visit somewhere I always wonder how amazing it must be to live there, but as a tourist you only see the best bits!

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  3. I hope that your dreams come true there, or wherever else you may go.

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  4. I totally love your post. I definitely do the tourist pretending not to be thing-your descriptions of this are so vivid.
    Enjoyable read x

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  5. Your smile would certainly brighten London, Jessica. There are a few quiet places in the suburbs if you know where to find them. Do you like any of the parks?

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    1. Aw! I have to admit I've never ventured into the suburbs! I've heard Victoria Park is nice?

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    2. Yes, it's just south of Hackney. Lots of people go there to have fun in the Summer. Two good ones in the suburbs are Kew Gardens (if you like flowers and plants) and Richmond Park (if you like trees and deer).

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  6. Fabulous post! When I worked in London (commuting from Brighton every day) I hated the place, because all I saw of it was packed tubes and having to run through crowds because I was always late... but when I left my job I saw London as a much more beautiful, exciting city that I loved to spend time in. It's all about perception and where you are in life at the time I think x

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    1. Thank you Scarlett! I agree - it's like if you have a bad association with somewhere for whatever reason, it makes the whole place seem awful. Whereas if it's somewhere you have a good memory it's the opposite. Commuting from Brighton every day probably would have made me hate London! x

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  7. As an American, I'd love to see London one day. Also, this post definitely resonates with me. I always thought at one point I'd break out of the introverted thing and be 'the life of the party.' But being an introvert is just who I am, and there's really no changing that, is there?

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    1. You should definitely visit London! We can find a shower somewhere and go for a beer (get it?). Yeah there's really no changing that. When I was younger my favourite thing to do was to sit on a mat, reading a book and shouting at anyone who interrupted me. And I'm still waiting for that to change...

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  8. Thank you for writing this, it's so thoughtfully written and really resonated with me. It's strange, isn't it, how we often place our dreams on a certain place or a time - like moving to a city or simply 'when I grow up' - when really we should place our dreams on ourselves and, like you said, who we really are, not who we wish we could be. Thanks again for writing this!

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  9. Hi Gemma, thanks so much for your lovely comment! And I'm really happy you know what I mean and I'm not the only one! x

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  10. What a perceptive (word of the day!) and sincere post. I feel I could have written it myself, and it is so heartwarming to know other people feel this way - sometimes I wonder how nobody else seems to get so frustrated with the people and the impoliteness and the length of time it takes to get anywhere! I like how this ends on a positive note though - you're right, it is a challenge, but there are also many lovely bits of London. I always find Regent's Park good for a solitary (ish!) stroll. So nice to read an intelligent, informed blog post - they are few and far between. :)

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    1. Thanks so much! :) it does seem like a lot of other people feel this way, which is a big relief. And thank you for the recommendation I haven't been to Regent's Park yet so I'll have to go and explore it!

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  11. Nice piece! I often think that about moving to London but worry that actually living there will be such a different experience to visiting, when you have the time (and hopefully money) to enjoy what it has to offer. I like the simplicity of your blog too and writing style.

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