I quit the UK to live in a drab Communist-era block in Eastern Europe... and I love it

Half-way through my job interview for a newspaper role in Bucharest, a sudden panic hit me.

Was it Bucharest... or Budapest? Perhaps I was getting confused exactly where I had applied for. I resolved to avoid mentioning the name for the rest of the interview.

It worked and I got the job – it was 'Bucharest' after all – and was soon on my way to the Romanian capital to start my foreign adventure.

Fresh out of university, I'd done a fair bit of backpacking and fancied working overseas for a year before coming back to London and getting a 'proper job'.

That was in 2002 – and I never moved back.

Part of Bucharest's appeal is that, despite recent inflation, the low prices give expats much higher living standards than we'd get back home.

In 2003, just £210 got me a centrally-located, 73-sqm three-bedroom flat next to Bucharest's oldest and most charming park and just off the Dâmbovița River. City Hall was a three-minute walk away, the Opera House a ten-minute walk.

In 2011, my partner and I made an offer to our landlord and purchased the flat, in cash, for £82,000. An equivalent three-bedroom flat in central London would be at least £500,000, double that in some postcodes.

Salaries have soared since Romania joined the EU in 2007 (average take-home pay is now about £960 a month) – and so have prices. Today my flat would probably rent for close to £700 and sell for around £140,000.

Like most Bucharest residents, we live in a Communist-era building. It looks drab from the outside – typical of the Eastern bloc but is lovely inside.

Romanians know that their country doesn't enjoy the greatest reputation abroad. Orphans, stray dogs, Communism and Dracula are the usual cliches.

But today's Bucharest is a modern, stylish and very liveable capital. An ambassador friend of mine told me the diplomatic community considers it a well-kept secret: their colleagues pity them grinding away in grim Romania, while they're really living it up over here.

The deprivations of Communism are long gone, and I have every amenity on my doorstep.

Step outside, and there are a dozen coffee shops within a few minutes' stroll. Some are as fancy as anything in Soho or Notting Hill – filled with hipsters sipping Ethiopian batch flat whites at 20 lei (£3.40) a pop. But small shops also sell takeaway machine espresso for 35p, if you're after a no-frills caffeine hit.

It's the same with booze – in high-end bars or craft beer pubs, expect to pay £5 for your artisanal ale or Bordeaux. But in an old-school Romanian pub, especially on the outskirts of town, far from the tourist trail, you can get a local beer for £1.70, even £1 during happy hour.

Restaurant meals are similarly easy on the wallet: pizza or pasta dishes (Italian food is popular) start from around £6.

Getting around is another bargain. One metro journey is 85p, 90 minutes of bus or tram travel just 50p. A taxi from the city centre to the airport (15km or 9 miles) shouldn't be more than £10.

Our council tax equivalent is about £67 a year, much less than in my hometown of Orpington, where for a band C property the cost is around £2,000 a year.

Block service charges (which include water rates, heating, rubbish collection, and the repair and maintenance of common areas) start from around £120 a month, rising to £220 in winter, when temperatures often fall below zero – although households with fewer members in smaller homes pay less.

Electricity typically costs us about £25 a month, though it can reach £85 in summer when our AC is pumping 24 hours to fend off 40-degree heat.

500MB internet and cable is £17 a month, and we spend £8.50 a month each on our mobile phone plans.

A litre of petrol is £1.20 and car tax on our Kia is £50 a year.

Healthcare is covered by salary contributions, but many expats opt to take out private insurance.

Smoking rates are high, with cigarettes costing about £3.50 a pack. A supermarket beer starts from about 85p.

What I especially love is how accessible culture is. At state-run cinemas, standard entry is just £2.50, while a ticket to the opera can cost as little as £8.

As well as being cheap, life here is also cheerful. The relaxed Latin vibe, combined with wonderful warm weather, sees families out in the park until 10pm for most of the year.

By contrast, I wouldn't dare set foot in a British park after dusk, let alone take my kids – wary of teenage gangs furtively swigging cider and puffing on spliffs.

But all the expats I know here say how safe the city feels. There is the odd pickpocketing, but muggings and other violent crime are virtually unheard of.

However, Bucharest life does have its challenges.

Communism created a soul-sapping bureaucracy. Administrative procedures that in the UK would take a few minutes online – say, sorting out pension contributions or registering a new vehicle – can drag on interminably, and business owners complain about the many hoops through which they have to jump to satisfy their tax obligations.

Utilities provision is patchy – households can be left without hot water for days on end. The public health system struggles for funding, and while medical staff are often hard-working and well-meaning, the facilities can seem rudimentary even in Bucharest, let alone in the poorer regions around the country.

Roads are improving, but expats bemoan the reckless driving that gives the country the highest road fatality rate in the EU.

But the downsides are more than offset by the advantages. With the economy less developed than in Britain, there is plenty of opportunity, and Romanians are always warm and welcoming to Brits, surprised and flattered that we would choose to live in their country over our native UK.

The number of British citizens living in Romania is estimated to be in the low thousands.

As a result, the expat community in Bucharest is small and friendly, and it's easy to integrate.

Most, like me, are in no hurry to return home.