I've always wanted to live in London. As a child growing up in a small town in Nebraska, I was fascinated by the architecture of the Houses of Parliament, the pristine uniforms of the palace guard, and the grandeur of St. Paul's Cathedral. There was, however, as there is with most beliefs about a place we've never actually visited in the flesh, a huge amount of oversimplification and romanticization. I never considered how expensive it is to live in this bustling metropolis, how unglamorous the outer zones can be to live in, or how much I would miss having a large tumble dryer that left my clothes crackling with static and heat. Despite all of this, I still love London. There is some element that has entered my very being, from the mechanical smell of Paddington Station to the industrial landscape of Hackney Wick where I now reside, that justifies my struggle to build a life here. This blog is about just that: my life in London, my inexplicable love for this city, and my quest to settle here.
Last year, I lived what felt like a charmed life as a Master's student at the London School of Economics. I had access to affordable student accommodation a five minute walk from Liverpool Street Station and moments away from all the amenities (pubs, clubs, and Sainsbury's) that a student requires. Furthermore, I lived with six of the loveliest flatmates that anyone could ask for. We spent evening after evening drinking copious amounts of wine, playing Hearts, and proofreading each others' essays.
Now, I am facing up to the struggle of living in a foreign country where, unfortunately, the frustration of immigration laws and visa requirements serve to remind you that no matter how much you may want to live somewhere, this simply may not be possible. So, dear reader, please join me on my journey, whether engaging in battle with the UK Border Agency or spending superfluous amounts of money on public transport, to settle in the city I want to live in, not just a city I can live in.
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