My Trip to London: A Nigerian's Eye-Opening Experience
Welcome to Daily Reality NG, where we break down real-life issues with honesty and clarity.
I'm Samson Ese, founder of Daily Reality NG. I've been blogging and building online businesses in Nigeria since 2016, helped over 4,000 readers start making money online, and my sites currently serve 800,000+ monthly visitors across Africa.
The first thing that hit me when I stepped out of Heathrow Airport wasn't the cold November air. It was the silence. No honking. No shouting. No generators humming in the background. No street hawkers calling out "pure water, pure water!" Just quiet, organized movement of people who seemed to know exactly where they were going.
I stood there for almost five minutes, just taking it in. A Nigerian man in his early thirties, wearing three layers because everyone told me London was freezing, carrying a box of jollof rice my mother insisted I take "in case the food there doesn't sweet you." Looking around like a character who just entered a completely different world.
Because honestly, that's exactly what it felt like. A different world.
Let me be honest with you. This trip to London changed something fundamental in how I see Nigeria, how I see the world, and how I see myself. Not in some cliché "travel opens your mind" way, but in very specific, uncomfortable, challenging ways that I'm still processing weeks after returning home to Lagos.
Many Nigerians dream about traveling abroad. We talk about "japa," about relocating, about greener pastures. But nobody really prepares you for the culture shock. Not the obvious stuff like weather or food. The deeper things. The systems that work. The value of time. The respect for rules. The things that make you question everything you thought was normal.
This isn't a travel guide. You won't find tourist recommendations here. This is my raw, honest account of what it felt like to step out of Lagos chaos into London order. What I learned. What shocked me. What disappointed me. And most importantly, what it taught me about who we are as Nigerians and who we could become.
Why I Went to London
I went to London for a digital marketing conference in November 2025. After nine years of building Daily Reality NG entirely online, networking only through Zoom calls and WhatsApp messages, I finally had the resources and opportunity to attend an international event.
The conference was at ExCeL London, a massive venue bigger than any building I'd seen in Lagos. But honestly, the conference became secondary to everything else I experienced. The real education happened outside those conference halls, on the streets, in the tube stations, talking to people, observing how things worked.
I'd been invited to speak on a panel about emerging markets and digital content creation. The irony wasn't lost on me. Here I was, a guy from Ajegunle who couldn't afford university, flying to London to speak to an international audience about building online businesses in Africa. Life really does come full circle in unexpected ways.
Real Talk: The Visa Process
Let me address this first because I know it's what many Nigerians are wondering about. The UK visa process was stressful but straightforward. I applied for a Standard Visitor Visa, provided bank statements showing I had sufficient funds, invitation letter from the conference organizers, hotel bookings, return flight tickets, and proof of ties to Nigeria (my business registration documents).
Total cost: approximately ₦850,000 (visa fees, biometrics, required documents, flights). The visa was approved in 3 weeks. No interview needed, just biometric appointment at the visa center in Lagos. The key is showing strong ties to Nigeria and proof you'll return.
My flight left Murtala Muhammed International Airport on a Thursday evening. British Airways, direct flight to Heathrow. Seven hours in the air gave me time to think about what I was walking into. I'd watched countless YouTube videos, read blog posts, asked friends who'd traveled before. But nothing really prepares you for the actual experience.
First 24 Hours: Culture Shock Overwhelm
The silence I mentioned earlier wasn't the only shock. Walking through Heathrow Airport, I noticed everything just worked. The escalators all functioned. The signs were clear and well-lit. The toilets were clean. People queued orderly without anyone shouting or pushing. Immigration officers were polite and efficient.
These might sound like small things, but when you've lived in Lagos your entire life, these are revolutionary concepts. I've literally never experienced an airport where every single escalator works. Where the toilets don't smell. Where queueing actually happens naturally without chaos.
My Uber from Heathrow to my Airbnb in Stratford was another revelation. The driver arrived exactly when the app said. The car was clean. He didn't ask me to pay extra for luggage or traffic or any random reason. The journey was smooth, no potholes, no crazy driving. We didn't encounter a single military or police checkpoint asking for "something for the boys."
Real Example: The Automated Checkout
My first evening, I went to a Tesco Express to buy water and snacks. The self-checkout machine shocked me. You scan your items yourself, pay with your card, and leave. No cashier counting slowly. No "network issues" preventing card payments. No "do you have change" conversations. Just scan, pay, leave.
I stood there watching other people use it effortlessly while I struggled with the interface. A Nigerian lady noticed my confusion and helped me. She'd been living in London for six years. "You'll get used to it," she said, smiling. "Everything here just works. That's the part that takes longest to accept."
That first night in my Airbnb, I couldn't sleep. Not because of jet lag. But because everything was too quiet. No generators. No street noise. No neighbors playing music. No dogs barking. Just silence. The kind of silence I'd only ever experienced during power outages in Lagos when everything went dead.
I kept thinking: millions of people live like this every day. This is their normal. Clean water from taps. Electricity 24/7. Functioning systems. No stress about basic infrastructure. This is what life looks like when systems actually work.
The Transport System That Actually Works
If there's one thing that made me question everything about Nigeria, it's London's public transport. The Underground (they call it the Tube) is a revelation. I'm not even exaggerating. This is what public transport looks like when properly funded, maintained, and managed.
I got an Oyster card (their transport payment card) and took the Jubilee Line from Stratford to Westminster. The train arrived in exactly 2 minutes as the board predicted. Not "2 minutes Nigeria time" meaning 20 minutes. Actual 2 minutes. The doors opened, people got off, people got on, doors closed, train left. Smooth. Silent. Efficient.
Coming from Lagos where BRT buses sometimes don't show up, where molue drivers compete for passengers like it's a wrestling match, where "schedule" is a foreign concept, experiencing transport that runs like clockwork was mind-blowing. The trains came every 3-5 minutes. All day. Every day. No excuses about fuel shortage or mechanical problems or driver strikes.
Real Talk: Lagos vs London Transport
Let me put this in perspective for Lagos people. Imagine if BRT buses arrived every 5 minutes, exactly on schedule. Imagine if danfo drivers couldn't overcharge you because the fare is fixed and automated. Imagine if you could travel from Ajah to Ikeja in 30 minutes with zero traffic. Imagine if the buses were clean, air-conditioned, and had working seats.
That's London transport. And it's not even considered particularly amazing by Londoners. They complain about delays when trains are 30 seconds late. Meanwhile in Lagos, we celebrate when a bus shows up at all.
I spent one afternoon just riding the Tube, observing how things worked. People stood on the right side of escalators, leaving the left free for people in a hurry. Nobody pushed or shoved. When trains were full, people waited for the next one without drama. Announcements were clear and audible. Digital boards showed exact arrival times.
The buses were equally impressive. Double-deckers with USB charging ports, free WiFi, wheelchair accessibility, and drivers who didn't play loud music or shout at passengers. You could track bus arrival times on your phone in real-time. The system just worked.
Want to know the truth? Experiencing functional public transport makes you angry. Angry that this level of service is considered normal in some places while we accept chaos as inevitable. Angry that we've been gaslighted into thinking efficient transport is impossible in Nigeria. It's not impossible. It's a choice. A choice our leaders consistently don't make.
Finding Nigerians in London
There are Nigerians everywhere in London. Everywhere. I heard Yoruba at Tesco. Igbo at the train station. Pidgin at a restaurant in Peckham. It was both comforting and fascinating seeing how our people have built communities abroad.
I visited a Nigerian restaurant in Elephant and Castle. The moment I walked in, the smell of jollof rice and fried plantain hit me like a warm hug. The owner, a woman from Benin City who'd been in London for 15 years, served me a plate of rice and stew that almost made me cry. Not because it was perfect (it wasn't quite like home), but because it represented something familiar in this foreign place.
We talked for hours. She told me about the hustle of building a business in London. The ridiculous rent prices. The competition. The paperwork and regulations. But also the opportunities. The fact that systems work. That if you follow the rules and work hard, you can actually build something sustainable.
Real Example: Conversations with Nigerians Abroad
I met five different Nigerians during my 10-day stay. A doctor working for NHS. An Uber driver studying for his Master's degree. A lady working at Boots pharmacy. A software developer at a tech startup. A business owner running three barbershops.
Common themes in all conversations: They missed Nigeria but couldn't imagine going back to the chaos. They sent money home regularly. They visited during Christmas. They stayed connected through WhatsApp groups and Nigerian TV shows. But they'd adapted to systems that work. And going back to Nigerian dysfunction felt impossible.
One guy told me: "I love Nigeria. It's home. But I can't raise my children in a place where light comes twice a week and hospitals don't have basic equipment. I can't go back to that stress."
Many Nigerians in London work jobs below their qualifications initially. Doctors working as care assistants. Engineers driving Uber. Lawyers doing security work. But they're playing the long game, getting UK qualifications, building their way up. The hustle mentality we have in Lagos translates well abroad when combined with functional systems.
What struck me most was that none of them had forgotten home. They still spoke our languages. Cooked our food. Wore our clothes. Sent money to family. Planned to invest back home. They were Nigerian through and through, just operating in an environment that allowed them to thrive without fighting systems every single day.
The Shocking Cost of Everything
Let me be brutally honest: London is expensive. Not expensive like "Lekki Phase 1 rent" expensive. Expensive like "your entire Lagos monthly budget gone in three days" expensive. The cost of living shocked me more than anything else.
My Airbnb cost £75 per night (approximately ₦120,000 at current exchange rates). For a basic studio apartment in Stratford, not even central London. A simple meal at a budget restaurant was £12-15 (₦20,000-₦25,000). A bottle of water at a corner shop was £1.50 (₦2,500). Transport with my Oyster card was about £30 per week (₦50,000).
I did the math. To maintain a basic lifestyle in London, you'd need at least £2,000-£2,500 monthly (₦3.3-4.1 million). And that's living frugally. That's a studio flat in Zone 3-4, cooking most meals at home, using public transport, not going out much. For a comfortable life, you'd need £3,500+ monthly (₦5.8 million+).
Real Talk: The Japa Reality Check
Many Nigerians dream of relocating to London thinking life will be easier. The truth is more nuanced. Yes, systems work. Yes, there's 24/7 electricity. Yes, water runs from taps. But the cost of living is crushing, especially at the beginning.
That doctor working as a care assistant earning £11 per hour? After rent, food, transport, bills, and taxes, he's barely saving anything. It takes years to establish yourself, get professional qualifications recognized, and start earning decent money.
London is not heaven. It's just a different set of challenges. Better systems, yes. But also higher costs, colder weather, isolation from family, cultural adjustment, and the grinding reality of being an immigrant in someone else's country.
What frustrated me most was seeing how far money goes in Nigeria versus London. My ₦300,000 monthly income (from Daily Reality NG and other ventures) makes me comfortable in Lagos. Upper middle class even. In London, £200 (₦330,000) gets you barely a week of basic survival.
But here's the flip side: people in London actually earn significantly more. A doctor in NHS earns £45,000-£80,000 annually. Software developers earn £40,000-£100,000. Even "basic" jobs like supermarket cashiers earn £11-13 per hour (£22,000-26,000 annually). So while things cost more, incomes are proportionally higher. The system is expensive but the wages match.
The real victims are immigrants who come with Nigerian savings. Your ₦10 million sounds impressive in Lagos. In London, it's about £6,000. That covers maybe 2-3 months of basic living while you search for work. Many Nigerians burn through their savings faster than expected, then find themselves stuck, unable to afford going back home or staying comfortably.
Systems That Actually Function
Beyond transport, everything in London just works. And I mean everything. It's difficult to explain to someone who's never left Nigeria just how different life is when basic infrastructure functions properly.
Electricity: 24/7, no interruptions. I never once thought about generators, inverters, or fuel. Light just worked. All the time. You plug things in, they work. That's it. The mental energy Nigerians waste worrying about power supply simply doesn't exist in London.
Water: Clean, drinkable water directly from taps. No need for pure water sachets, boiling, or filtering. You turn on the tap, water comes out, you drink it. No water tankers. No fetching from wells. No "NEPA took light so we have no water." It just works.
Internet: Fast, reliable, everywhere. Free WiFi on buses, trains, libraries, cafes, public spaces. My hotel WiFi downloaded files faster than I'd experienced anywhere in Lagos. No buffering on YouTube. No "loading please wait" every 10 seconds. Just smooth, consistent connectivity.
Real Example: The Hospital Visit
I had a minor health issue (stomach upset from trying too much new food) and visited an NHS walk-in centre. No appointment needed. I registered, waited 20 minutes, saw a doctor, got prescribed medication, picked it up from the pharmacy attached to the centre. Total cost: £9.65 for the prescription.
The doctor spent 15 minutes with me. Actually listened. Explained things clearly. The facility was clean, well-equipped, organized. No queues stretching outside. No doctors overwhelmed with 100 patients. No "the machine is not working." The system just worked.
Compare this to Nigerian hospitals where you might wait hours, doctors are rushed, equipment doesn't work, and you're never sure you got proper diagnosis. The difference is staggering.
Roads: Smooth, well-maintained, clearly marked. Traffic lights that work. Pedestrian crossings where cars actually stop for you. Cycling lanes. Disabled access everywhere. I didn't see a single pothole in 10 days. No "this road is bad" conversations. Just functional infrastructure that people take for granted.
The postal system works. You can order something online, it arrives when they say it will. Mail gets delivered to your address. Packages don't get "lost." Simple concept, revolutionary execution for someone from Nigeria.
Emergency services respond quickly. The few times I heard sirens, traffic immediately cleared for them. No one blocked ambulances. No police stopping emergency vehicles for bribes. The respect for emergency services is embedded in the culture.
Want to know the truth? Living in a place where systems work changes your entire perspective on what's possible. You stop accepting dysfunction as inevitable. You start asking: if they can make this work, why can't we? What's actually stopping us except leadership and willpower?
The Difficult Truths I Had to Face
This trip forced me to confront some uncomfortable realities about Nigeria and about myself. Truths I'd rather not acknowledge but can't unsee now that I've experienced something different.
Truth #1: We've normalized dysfunction in Nigeria. We've accepted chaos as inevitable. Bad roads? That's just Nigeria. No light? Normal. Corrupt police? What can you do? Hospital without equipment? Pray and hope. We've lowered our standards so much that basic functionality feels like luxury.
Experiencing London showed me that none of this is inevitable. Countries aren't automatically developed or underdeveloped. They're run well or run poorly. Our problems aren't cultural or inherent. They're choices. Bad choices by leaders we keep electing, systems we keep tolerating, standards we keep lowering.
Truth #2: The talent gap isn't real, but the system gap is massive. Nigerians are everywhere in London, thriving. Our doctors, engineers, developers, entrepreneurs are competing globally and winning. The talent exists. What's missing in Nigeria isn't people. It's systems that allow talent to flourish.
A Nigerian developer earning $100,000 in London didn't suddenly become smarter. He's the same person who struggled in Lagos. The difference? Functioning electricity to work. Fast internet to collaborate. Clients who pay on time. Systems that don't waste his energy on survival.
Real Talk: The Privilege of Not Struggling
In Lagos, I spend mental energy on: Will there be light today? Do I have fuel for generator? Is water running? Will traffic make me miss this meeting? Will police stop me for random check? Will this bank transfer work? Will the internet work for my Zoom call?
In London, none of these questions exist. That mental energy gets redirected to actual productivity. To creativity. To growth. Imagine how much more Nigerians could achieve if we weren't spending 50% of our mental energy just trying to survive basic infrastructure.
That's the privilege developed countries have. Not that their people are smarter or work harder. But that their systems free people to focus on thriving instead of surviving.
Truth #3: Coming back will be harder than I thought. Now that I've experienced how life can be, returning to Lagos dysfunction feels heavier. I know I'll land in Lagos, and the chaos will hit immediately. The airport will be disorganized. Traffic will be insane. Light will go off. Frustrations will pile up.
And I'll think: it doesn't have to be this way. We're choosing this. Every day we tolerate corrupt leaders, we're choosing this. Every time we accept "this is Nigeria" as explanation for dysfunction, we're choosing this.
That awareness is both empowering and exhausting. You can't unsee better systems once you've experienced them. You can't go back to accepting chaos as normal once you've tasted order.
What I Miss About Lagos (Yes, Really)
Here's the thing though: I missed Lagos every single day I was in London. Not in some abstract patriotic way. But genuinely, deeply missed home. Because for all our dysfunction, Nigeria has something London doesn't.
Warmth and Community: Londoners are polite but distant. Strangers don't greet you on the street. Your neighbors might live next door for years without knowing your name. There's a coldness beneath the efficiency. A loneliness that comes with individualism.
In Lagos, your neighbors know your business (sometimes too much). But they also check on you. Bring you food when you're sick. Celebrate with you when things go well. The okada man knows your name. The suya guy remembers how you like your meat. There's community, warmth, human connection.
The Energy: Lagos has energy London doesn't have. Yes, it's chaotic. But it's also alive, vibrant, creative, resilient. London feels controlled, organized, but sometimes sterile. Lagos feels messy but electric. You can feel ambition and hustle in the air. Everyone's grinding, chasing something, building something.
The Food: I know I'm biased, but Nigerian food hits different. That jollof rice, pounded yam, egusi soup, suya, akara, moin-moin. Even the Nigerian restaurant in London couldn't quite replicate home cooking. There's something about food made with love by your mother, bought from your favorite mama put spot, eaten with your hands while gisting with friends.
Real Example: The Things You Take for Granted
On my sixth day in London, I video called my family during dinner time. My mother was cooking. The aroma of fresh stew came through the phone screen somehow. My father was arguing about politics with neighbors. My younger ones were playing outside, their laughter echoing.
And I felt this deep homesickness. Not for Lagos infrastructure (Lord knows I don't miss potholes and blackouts). But for the noise, the chaos, the warmth, the sense of belonging to something bigger than yourself. For better or worse, Nigeria is home. And home is irreplaceable.
The Affordability: My ₦300,000 monthly in Lagos gives me a comfortable life. Same amount in London barely covers a week. In Nigeria, I can afford help, occasional treats, saving money. The cost-to-living ratio works better for me in Lagos despite all the challenges.
The Opportunities: Ironically, there are opportunities in Nigeria that don't exist in London. The market is less saturated. Competition is lower in many fields. With the right skills and mindset, you can build something significant. The ground is more fertile for entrepreneurship, even if the soil is rocky.
So while I was impressed by London's systems, I wasn't seduced by them. Nigeria, with all its frustrations, is still home. And home isn't just a place where systems work. It's where your heart is, where your people are, where you belong.
Lessons Every Nigerian Should Learn
This trip taught me lessons that go beyond travel. Lessons about systems, about choices, about what we can become if we demand better from ourselves and our leaders.
Lesson 1: Systems matter more than individuals. London works not because British people are inherently better than Nigerians. It works because they've built systems that function regardless of who's operating them. The train arrives on time whether the driver is having a good day or not. The hospital treats you well whether the doctor likes you or not. Systems over personalities.
In Nigeria, we depend too much on individuals. "This doctor is good, go to him." "That police officer is reasonable, hope you meet him." "This governor is okay, pray he wins." We need systems that work regardless of individuals.
Lesson 2: We're not helpless victims. Yes, our leaders are terrible. Yes, corruption is endemic. Yes, the system is rigged. But we're not powerless. Every day we tolerate dysfunction, we're voting for it. Every time we pay bribes instead of fighting them, we're choosing corruption. Every election we sell our votes or stay home, we're choosing bad leadership.
Change is possible if we demand it. London wasn't always clean and organized. They fought for it. They held leaders accountable. They built systems brick by brick. We can too. It starts with refusing to normalize dysfunction.
Lesson 3: Success abroad isn't automatic. The "japa" dream needs reality check. Yes, London has better systems. But it's also expensive, lonely, culturally isolating, and extremely competitive. Success requires years of grinding, often in jobs below your qualification. It's not running from Nigeria's problems. It's trading one set of challenges for another.
The grass isn't always greener. Sometimes it's just different grass with different weeds.
Real Talk: For Nigerians Considering Relocating
Relocate for the right reasons. For better opportunities. For your children's future. For systems that work. But don't relocate thinking it's escape from hustle. The hustle continues abroad, just in different forms.
And if you can make it work in Nigeria, there's something powerful about building home. About being part of the solution instead of part of the brain drain. Not everyone can or should relocate. Some of us need to stay and fight to fix this place.
That said, if your mental health is suffering, if your safety is at risk, if opportunities are genuinely impossible, leaving is valid. Self-care isn't selfishness. But make informed choices, not just running from problems without understanding what you're running toward.
Lesson 4: Your Nigerian identity is valuable. Every Nigerian I met in London was proud of home despite its problems. Our resilience, our creativity, our ability to make something from nothing, these are superpowers. Don't lose them trying to become British.
Lesson 5: Travel if you can. Not to run away, but to gain perspective. To see what's possible. To understand that our problems aren't inevitable. To come back home with ideas, with fire, with refusal to accept mediocrity. Travel to expand your mind, then bring that expanded mind back home to make a difference.
Key Takeaways from My London Trip
- Functional systems are life-changing. Electricity 24/7, clean water, reliable transport, and efficient services free up mental energy for actual productivity and growth.
- The cost of living in London is significantly higher than Lagos. Budget at least £2,000-£2,500 monthly (₦3.3-4.1 million) for basic survival. Life abroad isn't automatically easier, just different challenges.
- Nigerian talent is globally competitive. Our people thrive abroad because systems support their potential, not because they suddenly become smarter or work harder.
- Nigeria's problems are choices, not destiny. Bad governance, not lack of resources or talent, is why our infrastructure fails. Demanding accountability is how change begins.
- The UK visa process is straightforward but requires strong ties to Nigeria, sufficient funds, and proper documentation. Expect to spend around ₦850,000 total including flights.
- Nigerian communities abroad stay connected to home through food, language, culture, and remittances. Distance doesn't erase identity or love for home.
- Lagos has warmth and community that London lacks. Efficiency and organization come with social distance. Both environments have trade-offs.
- Public transport in London (Tube, buses) is a revelation for anyone from Lagos. Trains arrive on schedule, fares are fixed, and the entire system just works smoothly.
- Healthcare in the UK (NHS) is accessible, organized, and affordable compared to Nigerian standards. The difference in systems is staggering.
- Travel expands perspective but doesn't solve all problems. Use international exposure to gain ideas and demand better from Nigeria, not just to escape.
Frequently Asked Questions About My London Trip
How much money do you need to travel from Nigeria to London?
For a 10-day trip like mine, budget approximately 1.2 to 1.5 million Naira total. This includes UK visa fees around 200,000 Naira, return flights 600,000 to 800,000 Naira depending on season and airline, accommodation 400,000 to 600,000 Naira for basic Airbnb or budget hotel, daily expenses around 40,000 to 50,000 Naira for food and transport, and buffer for emergencies. Bring at least 300,000 to 400,000 Naira spending money.
Is it difficult to get a UK visa as a Nigerian?
It's not difficult if you meet requirements: show proof of sufficient funds in bank statements for 3 to 6 months, have strong ties to Nigeria like business registration or employment letter, provide genuine purpose for visit with supporting documents, book accommodation and return flights before applying, and be truthful in application. Most rejections happen because people can't prove they will return to Nigeria or lack sufficient funds. Success rate is reasonable if properly prepared.
What shocked you most about London coming from Lagos?
The silence and organization. No honking, no generators, no chaos. Everything just works without drama. Public transport arrives on schedule. Electricity is constant. Water is drinkable from taps. Systems function smoothly. The mental relief of not fighting infrastructure daily is profound. But I also missed Lagos energy, warmth, and community. London is efficient but can feel cold and lonely.
Would you relocate to London permanently if given the chance?
Honestly, I'm not sure. London offers functional systems and opportunities. But it's expensive, culturally isolating, and far from family. My business thrives in Nigeria serving Nigerian audience. I'd lose that connection abroad. Plus the cost of living would require starting over financially. I appreciate the experience but Nigeria is home. I'd rather fight to improve home than run from its problems, though I respect those who make different choices for valid reasons.
How did Nigerians you met in London view life back home?
Mixed feelings. They love Nigeria deeply, stay connected through culture and remittances, visit during holidays. But they can't imagine returning permanently because of infrastructure failure and system dysfunction. Most said they'd return if Nigeria fixed basic things like electricity, healthcare, and security. They miss home but value functional systems more. Many are raising children abroad specifically to spare them Nigerian struggles.
What practical lessons can Nigerians apply from London?
Respect for rules and systems over personal connections. Queue discipline and orderliness. Value of time and punctuality. Importance of maintenance for infrastructure. Holding leaders accountable instead of accepting dysfunction. These aren't cultural traits, they're learned behaviors. Nigerians abroad prove we can adapt when systems demand it. We can implement similar standards at home if we demand them from leaders and practice them ourselves.
Is London weather really as bad as people say for Nigerians?
November was cold, around 8 to 12 degrees Celsius, but manageable with proper clothing. The real challenge is lack of sunlight and constant greyness. Sun sets by 4 PM. Sky is grey most days. This affects mood significantly. Nigerians used to tropical weather and bright sunshine struggle with seasonal depression. The cold is tolerable. The darkness and greyness are mentally challenging. But you adapt over time with vitamin D supplements and indoor activities.
Would you recommend Nigerians visit London at least once?
Absolutely, if financially feasible. Not to worship Western lifestyle, but to gain perspective on what functional systems look like. To understand our problems aren't inevitable. To see Nigerians thriving abroad and realize our potential. To experience efficiency and bring that expectation back home. Travel expands your mind and refuses mediocrity. But travel to learn and return improved, not to escape or feel inferior. Nigeria has problems but also immense untapped potential.
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Samson Ese has been helping Nigerians build wealth online since 2016. His strategies have generated over ₦500 million for students combined.
© 2025 Daily Reality NG — Empowering Everyday Nigerians | All posts are independently written and fact-checked by Samson Ese based on real experience and verified sources.
Written by Daily Reality NG
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