Former New Zealand Herald writer Lillie Rohan is now living in London.
In the first of a monthly column in Canvas magazine, former New Zealand Herald entertainment writer Lillie Rohan tells why she’s come to agree that London is the greatest city in the world.
“London’s a sh**hole. It’s also the greatest city in the world.”
When you’re T-minus three weeks from embarking on your OE, that’s the kind of advice you think you don’t need. Turns out, it’s exactly the advice you need.
At the tender (okay, very adult) age of 27, I decided it was time to see what the rest of the world had to offer. I wanted to chase my dreams of being the Kiwi expat version of Carrie Bradshaw. My partner wanted to travel, to see the crystal-clear waters of Greece, breathtaking castles in Scotland, and hot air balloons in Cappadocia. We were very clearly aligned.
So while I was busy Googling “Harry Styles Hampstead Heath sightings” and “Soho apartments”, he was doing the important stuff like sorting visas, booking flights and finding an Airbnb for our first week there.
He was prepared, I wasn’t. Guess who was shocked when we landed?
After three hours in London, which included battling Oxford St (hell), navigating the Tube (chaos), and paying £45 for a sub-par breakfast ($101, because we were still converting), I decided my best friend’s brother was right: it was a sh**hole - but I also felt an overwhelming sense I was going to love it here.
Fifteen months later, I can confirm: I do. It’s everything I wanted and more, but that’s not to say it doesn’t come with some culture shocks.
From hearing a fox scream at 2am, becoming a human sardine on the Tube, or trying to find a flat white that doesn’t taste like burned milk, it’s been a ride, and that’s before we talk about the sushi. I once paid £8 for a lukewarm chicken avocado roll that tasted like disappointment and uncleaned fridge.
The wildest quirk, though, has to be the people. Before moving here, I thought Brits were basically like us, just with better TV. I was wrong.
Londoners (the born-and-bred kind) aren’t exactly rude, they’re just not nice either. At my first job, I got chatting to a colleague. We were vibing, or so I thought, then mid-sentence, she looked at her computer screen and didn’t speak to me for the rest of the day. I got semi-ghosted, at work, in daylight hours.
Every Kiwi I know has a similar story. Why do they do it? We have no idea. Maybe they just can’t keep up with the chat. Maybe it’s their version of boundaries. Either way, I now treat every office conversation like it could be my last.
That’s partly why my partner and I ended up making friends mostly with other Kiwis and Aussies — for the banter, but also the comfort, and that’s not the only home away from home comfort. While we may struggle explaining what “yeah nah” means, it’s easy to get our hands on the essentials: lamingtons, lolly cake, Pic’s Peanut Butter, and even Milo, thanks to cafes like Proud Mary’s, Butter Beans, and Ozone. Tumeke Pies has the goods too, and Clint from Kiwis in London always knows where to go.
And the All Blacks, they’re a bigger part of my life here than at home. Whether it’s 7am or 9pm, Kiwis flock to a pub (usually found via the Kiwis in London Facebook group) wearing jerseys, pint in hand, no idea what day it is, just screaming at a screen like it’s a mini Eden Park, only with more Guinness and less sun.
Other perks include cheap holidays, experiences you couldn’t have back home, a sense of independence and so much more.
Rent, however, is wild. We paid double what we did in Auckland CBD, and now that we’ve got our own place, it’s nearly triple.
It’s worth it, though. We’ve ticked off a bunch of dreamy European destinations, and my career - which now spans freelance copywriting, a bit of PR, and being a full-time entertainment journalist on TikTok - has gone completely bonkers.
In the past year, I’ve been to the Brit Awards with reality TV royalty, roamed Glastonbury with the Spotify team, come face-to-face with Louis Tomlinson, and landed invites to premieres I used to only dream about.
So, for anyone considering the move, or anyone with a child, cousin or flatmate already here, yes, it’s a sh**hole, but it’s also the greatest city in the world — and for every overpriced rent payment or underwhelming roast, there’s a night where you catch the Tube home, tipsy with opportunity, and think: how can I live here forever?