I came to London not knowing anyone, but the people are why I stayed
On the tube, strangers avoid eye contact as if meeting your gaze could turn them to stone. You could fall off a bike and no one would check if you're okay—they’d probably strut the other way. It can be a cold city, both in terms of weather and people. But beneath the surface of its cold exterior, the unexpected kindness and inclusivity of strangers has exceeded my expectations.
Recently my London-born colleague asked how I was finding making friends. “Honestly, surprisingly easy,” I admitted. Sharing my sentiment, my Portuguese coworker agreed. “You meet one person and then they introduce you to their friends too,” he added.
With this in mind, moving to London without my close relationships was scary. My friends have always grounded me and helped me navigate life. Not having that was terrifying. I also had concerns about moving to a place where people already have connections and if they would be willing to break out of their routines for me.
I’ve shamelessly put myself out there, reaching out to people after a brief interaction because I liked their vibe or started conversations with people in random places. I’ve also caught up with people to never see them again, but overall, the rewards have been enormous. Building friendships takes time and effort, but the overwhelming kindness I’ve been inundated with has surpassed any of my expectations. I've gallery-hopped with a girl I met on TikTok, gone to a market with someone I met two years ago at a boxing match and had a date introduce me to his cousin–who’s now one of my closest friends.
Maybe Londoners are more receptive to new friendships because so many of them have moved here at some point in their life, whether that’s another part of the UK or the world. Or maybe it’s because they have once been the “new” person before, so are receptive to bringing people in.
Sure, they have a reputation for being a bit pessimistic, but I think most of them are just realists. It is a city that throws challenges at you from the cost of living to the housing crisis and everything in between. So, if anything they probably find my optimistic ambitions and desire to leave the comforts of Australia, slightly deluded and well, foreign.
I’d say most Londoners struggle to have small talk that doesn’t involve criticisms about the UK weather. They don’t care for the light superfluousness of relationships, instead, they crave a richer connection. For example, my previous flatmates eased my fears of being an outsider from the beginning. They welcomed me in–giving me tips on the best meal deals, inviting me to the pub with their friends and mutually lying nonverbal in the park after nights out. It’s a testament to them as people, but also not a foreign experience in many of the new relationships I’ve fostered since being in London.
Of course, I miss my friends in Australia. They know me inside and out and won’t hesitate to humble me when I need it. My relationship with them is more comfortable than my favourite tracksuit, but there’s excitement in new friendships too. Being able to discover their backstory and looking forward to all the adventures yet to unfold. Plus, they take you at face value (not the shy girl in galaxy leggings and purple glasses) which is a testament to your growth and values as a person.
Recently I got the keys to my first real place in London. It’s cute and cosy, but I’ve realised that no building or street has made this city feel like home. It is the warmth, care and openness of people I’ve met that have made me feel so at ease and I can’t wait to see where my relationships take me next.