Green Grasses

For the past few days, I have been hearing the strangest noises during my classes; a soft tapping rings in my ears. I see my colleagues looking around with confusion in my direction. I see them glance at my feet, and I feel like I detect a looks of slight annoyance.

What are they so annoyed about?

It is also interesting that, for the past few days, my friends seem to shut off their hearing skills when I start up my iTunes. As accordion music of the Irish variety floats from my computer’s speakers, and my soul soars. Do I see my friends’ shoulders droop?

What is going on??

Well, as most of you know, I am an Irish dancer. In less than one, the western regional championships will be taking place in Denver. I have gone to these championships every year since I was a junior in high school. This year I have to miss them because I am studying abroad in Florence.

So, ‘what’s going on’ is as follows: I miss dance more than ever right now. Therefore, my colleagues are annoyed by my tapping feet as I try to practice my Irish dances during class, and I am listening to Irish dance music like it is going out of style.

My advisors back at the University of Denver warned me that I would be experiencing an interesting emotional roller coaster during my time in Florence. It is one matter to mentally prepare yourself, and another matter entirely to really life all of the different emotions that come with the roller coaster. . . or, better yet, find out just what things send you on another adventure. Buckle up, we’re in for a ride!

While on the topic, I might as well mention that I find it interesting that missing dance is not a contained emotion; missing dance has made me edgy and irritable. I am more anxious to get things accomplished in a quick and efficient fashion, and I am more anxious to get started with the rest of my life. I am more poignantly aware that the grass always seems greener on the other side, and therefore, want to pick up and leave Florence immediately so that I can go roll in the greener grass.

Yet, I am not wasting all of my time being anxious and irritable; because I am more aware of my longing for the comforts of home, I am also using my last few weeks in Florence as time to explore the bits of the city that I have not seen. For instance, between classes, I have taken to going to the Uffizi, visiting random open-air markets, and reading on the verandas of libraries around the city.

In fact, as I whiled away some time on the steps of Santa Croce this afternoon, I watched the setting sun shed its last rays of light on the golden façade of some apartment buildings, it occurred to me that I will miss Florence. I will miss the warm November nights and its street musicians. I will miss going to the open-air markets and cringing at the meat displays. I will miss going to museums around the city to see another Michelangelo sculpture.

So, where exactly is the greener grass, again. . . ?