Growing up in North West London was magical

Whenever I’m asked about what it was like to grow up in London, I’m often surprised at my own response, which normally is along the lines of “it’s very similar to New York, really”. Which, now that I think about it, isn’t that true at all. Sure, there isn’t a massive disparity between the glitziness of Bond Street and Madison Avenue, and yes, we share a lot of restaurant chains. But thinking about it now, I’ve realised that it’s a response I give to deflect from the fact that I am thousands of miles from my family. From the fact that I do get quite homesick sometimes, and that sometimes even the charm of Greenwich Village can’t quite measure up to the quiet, leafy pocket of North West London called Belsize Park that I call home.

The name of the area derives from the French bel assis, which translates as “well situated”. It suits it well, as although Belsize Park is a mere fifteen-minute drive from Central London, it almost can be classified as a suburb, as it is calmer and greener, but still encapsulates the heart of London life. Up the road, we have our own version of “the village”, with a quaint delicatessen whose produce has been devotedly served by the same couple for a over a decade, the local corner shop that my friends and I would raid for Ballsen chocolate Leibniz biscuits (if you know then you know) before sleepovers, a “fruiterer” (old-fashioned greengrocer) and a smattering of different cuisines, from Italian to Turkish to Asian fusion. There’s even a traditional town hall, which has now been converted into an arts centre in recent years, and Belsize Park has maintained one of the last remaining bomb shelters from World War II. My street even had a party to celebrate the Royal Wedding. Belsize Park has all the trappings that feel vaguely reminiscent of the small, tight-knit towns scattered across America that many fellow NYU students hail from, but, as it’s still London, there’s still your share of rustic health food shops that mirror anything you’d find in New York or LA. And Banksy himself has graced the area with a few examples of his amazing graffiti.

My favourite part of growing up in North London was its proximity to the parks, such as Primrose Hill and Hampstead Heath. Primrose Hill is renowned for its skyline views of London’s skyscrapers in the distance, and hosts many excited Londoners on Bonfire Night (or Guy Fawkes). Hampstead Heath acts as my own personal, muddy oasis from the city. With its ponds (that are apparently never too cold or inundated with algae for my dog to launch himself into), rolling hills and wide expanses of fields with tall grass, you genuinely feel as if you could be the countryside, something that even Central Park can’t beat. It’s obviously a desirable spot place if was one of Henry VIII’s favourite hunting spots, back in the day.

Being so close to everything in London (I’ll say it now and I’ll say it again, the Tube trumps the subway in every way), you still get your dose of traditional London life very often (my school was on Baker Street), but it’s a relief to know that good ol’ Belsize can be a bit of a sanctuary from the literal hustle and bustle (you will get shoved by rude strangers in the Tube during rush hour, no matter how hard you try to avoid it) of the city. I’m a walking distance from many of my friends, and there’s a real sense of community, which is quite remarkable in a city of over eight million people.

New York will never stop being one of my favourite places, as its vibrancy can always give me a boost when I need it, and there’s always somewhere to go or something to do at any hour. However, I’ll never consider myself to be the most seasoned of city slickers. And now that I can appreciate and miss life back at home, I’ve realised that’s perfectly OK.