Maham Shabbir joined UCL’s Public Policy MSc programme from Karachi, Pakistan. Here, she discusses adapting to London life and discovering a community that feels like home.
I never could have thought the same me, who once impulsively booked a flight home when homesick, would one day feel so attached to a city I now call my second home.
I came from Pakistan to study Public Policy MSc at UCL. I’m from Karachi, our liveliest and most populous city, where food (read: fried samosas and biryani) is a love language. We host family dinners that start late and end even later (sometimes with 3 desserts and a cousin sleeping on the couch). Fashion is serious business too; we’ll dress to the nines in beautiful ethnic wear for a casual brunch and yes, someone will absolutely ask for a mini photoshoot before the food arrives.
When I arrived in London for the first time, it felt oddly similar to being back home: the big city buzz, heavy traffic, people always rushing somewhere. My first real culture shock hit when I walked into a coffee shop at 6:45pm and they were closing for the day. Back home, we’d start our evenings at 8pm and sip chai at our local coffeehouse at 1am on a casual weekday. Although I still proudly remain a night owl, let’s just say my routine now involves fewer midnight outings.
Another major shock? Everyone in winter wears black like it’s part of a national dress code; meanwhile, I showed up in a bright pink top and immediately felt like a walking highlighter in the middle of Liverpool Street (never again).
The First Few Weeks...
I was definitely nervous about finding a community (let’s be real, everyone is). But as it turns out, UCL’s social life has range. Want to take moody pictures of rainy London streets? Go for a cold plunge at Hampstead Heath? Join a society so oddly specific you didn’t even know it was your thing yet? There’s something here for just about everyone. I even dragged myself to a rowing session one cold October morning - zero regrets, except maybe for my fingers.
Living in London felt unreal at first: new faces, freedom, and the thrill of hopping on the tube and getting off wherever looked interesting. But it was also intense: there was pressure to explore every corner of London, socialise more, stay on top of classes, and remember to buy groceries. Pro tip: never underestimate how heavy oat milk and detergent get when you’re hauling them uphill back to your accommodation.
When it started to feel a little more like home
I won’t lie, I initially thought moving to London meant leaving pieces of myself behind. I worried I’d miss the small things: the comforting chaos of Karachi traffic, the over-the-top wedding events, and the casual way someone drops by "for 5 minutes" and ends up staying for dinner. But London handed me small reminders of my hometown in the most unexpected places, like food trucks selling bun kebabs, intense cricket screenings and homemade feasts on Eid. Turns out, "home" sometimes sneaks into new cities with you. In late-night storytelling, in group chats full of relatable memes, and in whoever’s cooking the biryani that week.
Most of my friendships came from totally unplanned moments: complimenting someone’s outfit in the library, a spontaneous trip to Winter Wonderland that ended in overpriced hot chocolate, or through off-tangent seminar discussions. Turns out, you don’t need a party to find your people; just a little bit of curiosity and the courage to say yes to that one event you almost talked yourself out of.
Also: props to the Students’ Union for making it really easy to say "yes" to things. From free yoga sessions and film screenings to quiet game nights and genuinely helpful career panels, there’s always something going on that isn’t secretly a networking trap. The best part is, once you push past the awkwardness of showing up, you realise just how wonderful the experiences are and make lifetime connections along the way. And if you’re lucky, you may or may not have the highlight of your day by stumbling across alpacas on campus during a stressful exam season (don’t ask).
I never could have thought the same me, who once impulsively booked a flight home when homesick, would one day feel so attached to a city I now call my second home. One of the moments that made it feel real was a quiet night on the 19th floor of my accommodation. Just me and a few friends, looking out at the city lights. We could see all’of London stretching out in front of us, and we sat there in the dim glow, talking about life, dreams, and everything in between while sharing warm Buns From Home. The city didn’t feel like a distant reality anymore. It felt like home. Simple as it was, that night became one of those rare moments I’ve held on to ever since.
Hear more about our postgraduate students’ experiences: Meet our Master’s students.
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