This past summer, I was fortunate enough to take my dream trip to London, England, U.K.. I stood in London for the first five days, and the last two were spent in the beautiful town of Weybridge, located in County Surrey, with some friends from my dad’s job.

I had been dreaming of visiting London since I was a child. The accents and the beautiful landmarks had always fascinated me. Strolling through the cobblestone streets, I was astounded by the amazingly preserved history that the city had to offer, as well as the beautifully detailed architecture. However, not only was the city itself different from what I had ever seen before, the people were different, too.

While I had always been looking forward to British accents (and was not at all disappointed) I realized the true difference in the lifestyles and ways that people carried themselves in London, when compared with New York City, where I have been various times throughout my life.

I will never forget the moment when this realization truly struck me. I was walking around in Trafalgar Square with my family, when we passed a homeless man sitting on the ground, leaning against a building. He had long hair, bad teeth, and tattered clothing, like a typical homeless person. Next to him rested a cardboard sign advertising the fact that he was homeless and would appreciate any donations. A kind woman carrying her grocery bags approached him, and the dialogue went something like this (both in delightful British accents, of course):

“Excuse me sir, would you like some cereal?”

“Yes ma’am, thank you, that would be lovely please.”

Had my eyes deceived me? Had I just seen a polite bum? Nope. Back in New York City, I’ve mostly avoided helping homeless people on the street, since many of them are dangerous and sometimes reported as violent. Yet here I saw a homeless man sitting quietly and appreciating some cereal given to him by a stranger.

It wasn’t just the homeless people who had caught my eye. Right behind them were the taxi drivers. London’s unique black cabs were driven by people who each had their own story to tell. Most memorable was the driver who drove my family and I from Buckingham Palace to Brown’s Hotel. He spoke of how his wife loved the theater, but he just went for the good food and drinks. He then went on to speak of how London was a great city, but he was Irish, and was moving out to the countryside to open his own pub like he always dreamed. I distinctly remember him saying that, “You’ve just got to keep reinventing yourself.” He then wished us well as we hopped out of the cab and headed towards Brown’s. I stood on the sidewalk, surprised by the story just told to me by the comical driver. In New York City, cabs are notorious for their erratic driving and curt and rude dialogue. Instead, I was taken to my destination with a driver that told both a funny story and one that was almost inspirational.

The next form of transportation that was shockingly different was the subway, affectionately referred to as “The Tube” by Brits. There were actual people working there, it was fairly easy to navigate, and there was artwork on the walls on purpose (as opposed to the unwanted graffiti in the confusing maze that is the New York City subway system). Not to mention, the announcement in a calming British accent to “mind the gap” was much more polite than the “do not cross this line” of New York.

Yet another thing that I noticed was the amount of working people that overflowed pubs, cafes, and restaurants on nights in the middle of the week. It was a strange sight, coming from the American way of life, in which people leave work and are constantly rushing around, or spend money on grandiose things. But in London, it’s Wednesday night and people are having meals in unique old fashioned restaurants to decompress after a stressful day. In New York City, one’s only hope of doing so is on a Friday--if you’re lucky. Don’t get me wrong, Londoners work hard--but not at the expense of their mental health and social life, like many of New York’s workaholics. The stressful and over-the-top competitive American lifestyle distracts us from enjoying simple things like going to small cafés to de-stress.

To put it simply, the American way of life has become so convoluted with the intense desire to be wealthy being equated with happiness and success, while the European way of life is evident in London as being content with simplicity. While the struggle to maintain wealth is evident everywhere (as evident with the homeless man I saw in Trafalgar) it is the appreciation of smaller things, like a box of cereal and cafés after work in the middle of the week, that are just not found in America, and may never be.