London Calling: 26 Years Later, the Good, the Bad and the £7 Pint!

 

There are few things more enlightening than returning to a city you once called home, particularly when that city has spent the better part of three decades being described as either the greatest place on Earth or a civilisation teetering on the brink of collapse.

London, apparently, is both.

According to the steady stream of news, social media commentary and WhatsApp wisdom that reaches us in South Africa, Britain has become a crime-ridden, immigrant-overrun, economically crippled disaster zone where nobody can afford to live and civilisation is hanging on by its fingernails.

Naturally, I was curious; and a little afraid!

Having lived in London in 1999 and 2000, and returned several times since, I recently spent two weeks reacquainting myself with the old girl. My last visit was eight years ago, so I was expecting a few changes.

What I wasn't expecting was to find a city that, in many respects, looks and feels better than I can ever remember.

Although, as I soon discovered, you now need the financial resources of a small oil-producing nation to buy a coffee and a sandwich.

The London I Remember

London in 1999 was a magnificent, chaotic, slightly grubby place.

The Underground was an adventure in human compression. Certain neighbourhoods were best avoided after dark. The streets were busy, the pubs were wonderful and the weather seemed permanently undecided about whether to rain or simply threaten to.

It was also a city of enormous character.

You could spend hours wandering through its streets, discovering little pubs, extraordinary architecture and people from every corner of the world. London was exciting, energetic and gloriously unpredictable.

And, importantly, a young South African could actually afford to enjoy it.

A pint didn't require a financial consultation, and renting a room didn't involve surrendering your firstborn child as collateral.

Fast-forward 26 years and some things have changed rather dramatically.

The Great London Crime Apocalypse... That Apparently Forgot to Arrive

Let's address the elephant in the room.

If you believe everything circulating on social media, London has become a lawless wasteland where stepping outside your hotel is roughly equivalent to entering a cage with an angry leopard.

And yet, my experience was almost the complete opposite.

I genuinely felt safer walking around London than I have on any previous visit.

Now, two weeks of sightseeing hardly qualifies as a comprehensive crime survey. London undoubtedly has its problems, and I wouldn't suggest wandering around at midnight waving your iPhone above your head like a distress flare.

But the city I experienced bore remarkably little resemblance to the dystopian nightmare regularly presented to us.

Neighbourhoods I remembered as distinctly questionable have undergone extraordinary transformations. Formerly rundown areas now boast fashionable restaurants, beautifully renovated buildings, expensive apartments and enough artisan coffee shops to keep the entire population permanently caffeinated.

Areas that once required a degree of caution now seem to require little more than a healthy bank balance.

And the streets? Cleaner than I remember them. Considerably cleaner.

It was rather refreshing to visit a major international city and discover that much of the bad press simply wasn't reflected in my personal experience.

Perhaps the internet, occasionally, exaggerates.

Who would have thought?

The Immigration Question

Then there's immigration.

Judging by some of the commentary reaching South Africa, you'd imagine London had undergone a hostile takeover and that traditional British culture had been replaced entirely by something unrecognisable.

Except London has always been multicultural. It was multicultural when I lived there in 1999. It's even more diverse today.

And during my two weeks, what struck me wasn't some overwhelming sense of social collapse, but how remarkably normal this diversity felt.

Different languages, cultures, religions and nationalities sharing the same trains, pavements, restaurants and public spaces.

People going about their lives: Working. Shopping. Laughing. Complaining about the weather.

Of course, Britain faces legitimate debates about immigration, integration, housing and public services. Those issues deserve serious discussion.

But there's a considerable difference between acknowledging challenges and declaring that an entire city has fallen apart.

From what I saw, London remains a vibrant, functioning, wonderfully cosmopolitan city.

And I rather enjoyed that.

The Bicycle Has Apparently Won the War

Now, here's something I wasn't prepared for.

Bicycles. Thousands of them. Absolutely everywhere.

London appears to have undergone a transportation revolution in which half the population has decided that two wheels are preferable to four.

Dedicated cycle lanes crisscross the city, cyclists stream through intersections, and people dressed in everything from business suits to fluorescent Lycra glide past stationary traffic with expressions of unbearable smugness.

As someone accustomed to Johannesburg, where cycling to work can occasionally resemble an extreme survival sport, it was fascinating.

The infrastructure is impressive and cycling has clearly become a much more visible part of everyday London life.

Although I'm not entirely convinced that sharing the road with an army of determined cyclists has improved the emotional well-being of London's taxi drivers.

Still, there's something rather encouraging about a city actively trying to reduce its dependence on cars.

Even if the cyclists occasionally behave as though they personally invented the road.

Where Have All the Petrol Cars Gone?

The second extraordinary change was the number of electric vehicles.

They're everywhere.

Teslas, electric taxis, electric delivery vehicles, electric family cars. At times, it felt as though the internal combustion engine had been quietly escorted out of the city and told not to return.

Coming from South Africa, where owning an electric car still raises the awkward question of whether you'll have electricity available to charge it, the contrast was remarkable.

London has clearly embraced electric mobility. And while the environmental benefits and practical challenges remain subjects of debate, there is no denying how dramatically the vehicle landscape has changed.

The streets feel different. Quieter, in places.

Less dominated by the familiar growl of diesel engines.

Although I must admit, watching a silent electric car creep up behind an unsuspecting pedestrian is slightly unnerving.

At least the old London taxis had the decency to announce their arrival with a noise resembling a distressed tractor.

Cash Is Apparently Extinct

And then there's the third revolution.

Nobody uses money anymore. Well, physical money, anyway.

During my entire two-week visit, I didn't touch a single pound note or coin.

Not once.

Coffee? Tap.

Train? Tap.

Pub? Tap.

Restaurant? Tap.

Even the buskers have card machines.

Yes. Buskers.

There you are, enjoying a talented musician performing on a street corner, and instead of tossing a few coins into a battered guitar case, you're invited to tap your card against a small electronic device.

Apparently, even spontaneous generosity has joined the digital economy.

It's extraordinary. And I do wonder what the effect is on their income.

London has become a place where your bank card is effectively your passport to civilisation.

The convenience is undeniable. No fumbling for change, no queues at cash machines, no pockets full of coins that somehow multiply during the day.

Although I did have a passing thought about what would happen if the payment network suddenly collapsed.

Presumably the entire city would stop functioning, and millions of Londoners would stand helplessly outside coffee shops, unable to purchase their oat-milk cappuccinos.

As South Africans, we'd probably just make a plan.

And Then Came the Bill

Of course, no discussion of modern London would be complete without addressing the one thing that genuinely frightened me.

The prices.

Good grief.

I knew London was expensive.

I lived there.

I've visited before.

But nothing quite prepares a South African for the experience of converting modern London prices into rands.

A simple coffee becomes a minor investment.

A pint of beer requires a moment of quiet reflection.

A modest restaurant meal can leave you questioning whether you've accidentally purchased the entire restaurant.

And property?

Utter madness.

Rental prices seem to have been calculated by someone who believes ordinary people should live in cupboards.

The cost of purchasing property is even more astonishing. Small flats command prices that, back in Johannesburg, could buy you a substantial home, a swimming pool and possibly a small vineyard.

It's difficult to imagine how younger Londoners manage to establish themselves without considerable financial support or exceptionally good salaries.

And while converting everything into rands is admittedly a dangerous pastime for South Africans travelling abroad, even measured against local incomes, London's housing and living costs are formidable.

There is a serious affordability problem beneath all that polished metropolitan sophistication.

London may be cleaner, greener and more technologically advanced.

But it certainly isn't cheaper.

So, Is the Grass Greener?

And this brings me to the inevitable question.

Having spent two weeks in London, would I swap South Africa for life in Britain?

It's complicated.

There is something enormously appealing about reliable public transport, functioning infrastructure, walkable neighbourhoods and the ability to move around a major city without constantly calculating your personal security arrangements.

There's also something refreshing about seeing public spaces that appear cared for, transport systems that largely do what they're supposed to and a city embracing modern technology.

These are things we should aspire to in South Africa.

But then there's the other side.

The extraordinary cost of living.

The cramped accommodation.

The relentless pace.

The weather, which seems determined to prove that sunshine is an unnecessary luxury.

And, of course, the absence of that uniquely South African combination of space, humour, warmth and spontaneous conversation that makes home so difficult to replace.

London has many things we could learn from.

South Africa has many things London could envy.

The Verdict: London, You've Aged Rather Well

Twenty-six years after first living in London, I came away genuinely impressed.

The city felt safer to me, looked cleaner, moved differently and seemed more modern than I remembered.

Its diversity was not the threatening spectacle I'd been led to expect, but an ordinary part of a thriving international city.

The bicycles were everywhere.

The electric cars were everywhere.

Cash had apparently become a historical artefact.

And the prices were so outrageous that I briefly considered applying for a second mortgage after ordering breakfast.

But perhaps the biggest lesson was something else entirely.

There is an enormous difference between experiencing a place and experiencing the headlines about it.

We live in an age where outrage sells, fear travels quickly and social media has perfected the art of making everywhere sound dreadful.

Yet the reality on the ground is often considerably more nuanced.

London isn't perfect.

Neither is South Africa.

But both have extraordinary qualities that are easily lost beneath the constant noise of negativity.

And perhaps that's what travel does best.

It reminds us to look beyond the headlines, challenge our assumptions and occasionally admit that the world isn't quite as dreadful as we've been told.

So, London, it was wonderful to see you again.

You continue to age remarkably well.

You've become cleaner, greener and rather sophisticated.

But next time, would you mind charging a little less for a pint?

Some of us are still earning rands.