There are so many stories out there bagging Sydney as a place to live: The traffic jams, air pollution, dodgy property developers, eye-bleeding house prices, crime gangs…yada yada, yada.

And yet, despite our moaning, few of us can imagine living anywhere else. Former PM Paul Keating once famously said, “if you don’t live in Sydney, you’re just camping out”. And at the time he had a point. Our regional cities were cultural deserts where coffee came from a jar and only wimps ate salad.

This is no longer the case, with places such as Orange now a sophisticated foodie destination boasting great food and wine and even their own breed of bearded hipsters.

But despite the cool baristas, these places still ain’t Sydney. Those who make the sea change or tree change often come to regret it.

Here is my own list of seven things I’d miss about Sin City if I decided to go bush or turn coastal:

1. The Laksa at Happy Chef

Happy Chef.

Hands down the best laksa south of Singapore. Happy chef is somewhat of a Sydney institution, frequented by chefs (such as Luke Mangan and Dan Hong) after they have finished their shifts. Poked away in the Surry Centre, Chinatown, Sydney’s finest food court (sorry, Westfield) this unassuming little hole in the wall has a dizzying menu.

Whatever you choose, you won’t go wrong, but for the sake of authenticity we’d recommend opting for the rice stick noodles. Heck, it’s so damn good, that if Happy Chef ever relocated to Orange; I might even consider the move myself.

2. Aggressive drivers

Sydney drivers – would you miss them?

Fairfax’s own Elizabeth Farrelly often goes on about how she enjoys the frisson of the city, and nowhere is this more apparent than when it comes to getting from A to B in an automobile. Put a Sydneysider in a car (especially a white utility) and they become a very angry person.

But, strangely, I’d kind of miss being flipped the bird, or laying on the horn and calling someone a f–ing arsehole; that kind of tension keeps you on your toes and reminds you you’re alive. The alternative – cruising unencumbered through a sleepy country town and getting a friendly wave – would have me falling asleep at the wheel.

3. Neilsen Park Kiosk, Vaucluse

Surfing at Neilsen Park in Sydney Harbour. Photo: Danielle Smith.

I can’t explain why, but after a swim at the unfortunately named Shark Beach, the banana Paddle Pops just taste better at this charming little Federation kiosk.

Last year we celebrated Christmas Day at Neilsen Park, eschewing the traditional roast, for cartons of hot chips washed down with Coca-Cola. My kids declared it the best Christmas dinner ever. By the way; the beach is fully netted, so it’s perfectly safe from creatures of the deep.

4. May Lane graffiti, St Peters

May Lane West, St Peters. Photo: Dallas Kilponen

Country towns don’t do graffiti. Full stop. And the only graffiti you’ll find up and down the coast is the Locals Only variety daubed by wax heads protecting their favourite reef break.

Sydney’s inner-west, on the other hand, is the hub of dynamic street art and graffiti. Some of the best of it can be seen in and around May Lane, St Peters; an outdoor gallery of hyper-colourful wall art.

A country lane may offer views of sheep and fields, and a coast road can provide ocean vistas, but wandering the gritty streets of St Peters gives you faith in the ability of humans to create.

5. Sydney Opera House

The Sydney Opera House. Photo: Cole Bennetts

Initially I wasn’t going to include the SOH, because it is just too damn obvious. However, it remains my favourite building on the planet; one that I never tire of looking at, despite the obvious failings of its never-properly-finished interior, and its dubious acoustics.

Rather, I see the SOH as the world’s grandest public sculpture. I really do love it, and I like to keep it close.

6. Hunter Baillie Memorial Presbyterian Church spire, Annandale

Repairs being conducted on the Hunter Baillie Memorial Presbyterian Church spire. Photo: Fiona-Lee Quimby FAQ

I’m no God-botherer, but this is my local landmark and one that I look out on from my balcony every sunset. The church, built between 1886 and 1889, is a gothic revival structure designed by the sons of colonial architect Edmund Blacket.

From wherever I am in the inner-west I can see its towering honeycomb spire reaching for the stars and guiding me home. Simply heavenly.

7. Friends

A goat – pretty cool, but not a substitute for human friendship. Photo: Phil Hearne

People often assume when they move 300 kilometres west, or down the coast, their friends and family will be taking turns to pile into the car and visit them every weekend. Trust me, they won’t.

My mate Brian bought a place on the Central Coast, only about a 70-minute drive from the city, thinking his kids and grandkids would be constantly dropping in. Wrong. Brian sold the house in 12 months and moved back to Marrickville.

Creating a network of friends takes time and effort. Don’t blow it for an ocean view, or the chance to own a goat.