True, but also: it's not particularly hard anywhere else.
I grew up in the sticks. The country. The middle of nowhere. Or, as I used to call it, to the left of the middle of nowhere, because at least the middle of nowhere had an intellectually interesting distinction of being in the middle of something.
Yeah, it's "boring" out there. We dreamed of living in the city and going out to craft beer bars with a wider selection than just Dogfish Head (if they even had that) every night and seeing awesome bands play who weren't the same, one band you've been seeing every other night since high school.
Now that I live in the city, I dream of living in the country and going hiking every weekend. It's "boring" here, when all there is to do is go check out world-class art museums and Michelin-rated restaurants. I miss sledding in the snow. I miss seeing the stars every night--all of them. I miss not living under an airport takeoff path.
Point being, people have a tendency to do 10% of what a place has to offer and assume the other 90% is the same. One of the first few months that I lived in Philadelphia (when I lived there, I'm in DC now), I met up with a friend at this place called Reading Terminal Market, for lunch. He had lived there for 10 years and had never been to the place. "Who knew this was even here?" he said. Uh, dude, it's one of the most popular places in the city. You can't watch a travel show about Philadelphia and not have them mention it.
Some people are just dense. If you're not engaged in your location, the grass will always appear a shade or two closer to #00ff00 everywhere else. Someone, somewhere, wishes they live where you live.
Well, barring somewhere really fucked like Mogadishu or something. Hell, I bet there is an aspiring photojournalist somewhere who'd like to be there for 6 months, though. So you never know.