On Being a City Person

City living isn’t always as vapid as we make it out to be

Tourists. We all gripe about them until it’s our turn to admit that we would actually appreciate a photo of ourselves in front of an attraction. Taking a photo in front of the Statue of Liberty or Big Ben differentiates the experience from just any old postcard you can buy in the shop and undeniable evidence that you have been somewhere important. 

I love tourists. I love being swept away in the camp of it all–the trinket shops, the forced smiles of the tour guides, and the hundreds of cameras pointing and telling me where to look. There’s something comforting about being reminded I am one of many; a single speck ushered along in the guided queue to affirm my humanity. Ever since I read The City We Became by N. K. Jemisin, I have looked at cities as living, breathing organisms. Not to sound too pretentious–stick with me here. 

Tokyo was the first big city I ever lived in. It was the first city where I witnessed the lifespan of buildings, how they are rapidly born and eventually die. At my core, I think I’m a city person. Not just for grind culture, though that may be part of it, but because I am thoroughly attached to the anonymity of living in a city. I always find myself returning to the firm textures of architecture to remind myself how soft I am.

Recently I moved to London to pursue a Masters in Comparative Literature at SOAS. Living in London so far has been falling into familiar routines of moving to a new city alone. There are little frustrations like not knowing where to buy towels or never knowing what side of the sidewalk to walk on. But there are so many little joys like trying new foods, finding new footpaths, and attaching my identity to a new body of water (Regents Canal seems to be winning at the moment).

Relevant passage from my current read:

“College–now there’s a system. Though it’s not quite death, it’s a pretty close second… Like death, college serves as a kind of escape hatch. But while death takes you straight to the morgue, college is a single rope dangling loose from the inescapable net of society.”

–Notes of a Crocodile by Qui Miaojin (translated by Bonnie Huie)

On my mind lately:

The Disaster Tourist by Yun Ko-Eun. (my review and relevant to recent musings on travel)

N Dakota a song by Parquet Courts (from a playlist Ike made)

The Heartstopper series on Netflix (British! Queer! Wholesome!)