Recently, new neighbors moved into the apartment next to mine. Our first meeting was textbook perfect: we bumped into each other in the hallway, introduced ourselves, and exchanged friendly smiles. Since then, when we meet, we greet politely and even exchange a few words – they usually apologize for the noise from their kitchen renovation, and I smile and say I completely understand. Together, we’re happy the tiles arrived on time and the tiler can start. But honestly, I can’t remember the lady’s name anymore. Not out of malice or forgetfulness. I simply didn’t commit it to memory.
On the other side, a young couple lives next door. We always greet each other warmly, stay polite, and smile when we meet, but while I know exactly what music they play when cleaning, I don’t even remember their names anymore. And as strange as it sounds, I admit: I’m okay with that.
This is something many find hard to understand. The city around us is a space where you can learn how luxurious anonymity can be. I grew up in a small village where everyone was part of everyone else’s life, so I especially appreciate that in my own home, no one keeps track of which day a package arrived, when I watered my plants, or how I greeted them today.
A village offers security but can also feel suffocating at times. A big city rarely pries too much—and that freedom can be more freeing than you’d think.
Of course, if I wanted, I could build closer relationships with my neighbors. I know the perks: borrowing tools, asking for a cup of sugar, having the delivery person drop off packages with them, or getting help moving furniture during cleanouts. Friendships could even blossom—after all, why shouldn’t two people living side by side grow closer?
But honestly, I prefer that we keep our lives at a comfortable distance.
Because neighborly relations in a big city work differently than in smaller places. Regular coffee dates or gossip over the fence aren’t expected here. Proximity is purely physical. The emotional, human, and trust parts? Optional. And that’s exactly what I love—the freedom to choose. Living in a community without having to open up my private life to people who basically just share the same walls.
That doesn’t mean I’m antisocial. I make an effort to be kind to those around me, but I’ve learned there’s a big difference between kindness and closeness. Respect, goodwill, and a polite hello can be enough. Why expect more just because we happen to walk up the same stairwell at the end of the day?
People often say how different "the old days" were: everyone knew everyone, neighbors opened their doors to each other, cooked together, and raised kids side by side.
While that certainly had its charm, it’s important to remember that people’s needs have changed over the years. One of modern life’s greatest treasures is having your own space. And many simply don’t want to share it with those whose rhythms or values don’t align with theirs.
For me, good neighborly relations mean peace, not friendship.
And I don’t think we need closer ties with our neighbors than that. Being kind to each other is enough. I’ll save friendship for those who truly are part of my life.
