A strange thing happens when I’m a few days from my return to Florence: I suddenly begin inserting Italian words into my vocabulary and my beloved city begins to surface more in my mind. It’s almost as if my brain is preparing itself for the switch. Tomorrow I’m returning to Florence after a six-week stay in France. While I’ve been in France, I haven’t longed much for my beloved city, but I admit that I have missed it dearly.
What I have found interesting about speaking a foreign language is how sensitive I have become to everything around the words that a person says. A person can say something to me and I find myself processing the conversation on multiple levels: the actual words, the person’s tone of voice, his/her facial expressions and my own emotional reaction to the conversation. I think this sensitivity came about when I initially didn’t understand the words in a foreign language: I had to expand my ability to understand a conversation while I caught up with learning the language.
When I was coming to France for work and living full-time in Florence, I could easily accept the darker days and gloomier weather because it was like having more variety in my life. Now that I’m settling into my life a little more in France while maintaining my life in Florence, I notice the differences even more. During the winter months, the sun rises late in the morning after I’ve already woken up. The skies have lately been a dark grey that lightens up by 9 am. I find that I try not to focus too much on the lack of light and focus on what I do like.
What a difference a year makes. I read the post I wrote last year when I was in Florence. When the year began, I had no idea what changes were in store for me. Looking back now, it’s as if my entire life changed in the blink of an eye even though it felt strenuous at times. This year I stayed in with my beau after having spent a few days in Saint-Malo (Brittany). I loved seeing the water, running along the beach, enjoying the local delicacies, taking in the fresh air, and recharging my batteries before 2013 began.
This morning as my beau drove us into work, the sun was coming up. It turned the sky a deep magenta with an orange glow. Normally at 8 am, it is still dark, but today I watched as the colors streaked across the horizon and lightened up the dark blue to a lighter blue. As we drove down the narrow streets of a Parisian suburb, I thought about how different my life is when I am in France. In Florence, I am more in touch with the city. I walk its streets, breathe in its scent, and feel its energy. In France, I am often in a car when I need to travel. Sometimes I take the train, which allows me to walk one kilometer to the gare (train station) and one kilometer from the gare to the office.
Last Saturday morning the sky was blue and the air was cool when I left Florence for Paris. I peered out the window of the airplane as it soared above Italy and France. As we hovered the airport, the airplane pierced a thick blanket of clouds, leaving the sun behind. When I arrived at the airport, the skies were grey and the temperatures were low. Even though I left behind my beloved city, I arrived in Paris where my beau greeted me with open arms. Before, I would’ve felt a great sense of loss upon leaving Florence, but now I am able to take my beloved city with me.
This morning when I woke up, the sky was grey. I felt a strong sense of joy inside of me, but a veil of melancholy was definitely present too. At times, however, I find great comfort in sad songs and grey skies. I like the duality of my emotions. I am fine with feeling love and joy pulsate through me while a sense of sadness washes over me. I know that the sadness is not permanent, but I know that I have to let it run its course and not fight it off.
For the past few days, I’ve been picking back up my daily abitudini (habits) that I have when I’m here in Florence. I go to Vivoli or Giacosa for colazione (breakfast), shop for food in via dei Neri, and visit my friends who work in centro (downtown) when I’m out walking around. One of the nicest feelings is when I’m walking down the street and someone I know calls out to me, “Ciao bella!” I love that in Florence, people I know take notice and have even become closer to me now that they see me less habitually.
This morning when I went to the rosticceria (rotisserie) to buy something for lunch, one of the guys struck up a conversation about my being in France so much. I told him that I was only away for two weeks, but that for my next trip I might be staying away even longer because of the holidays. He said that it must have something to do with the Frenchman I came in with last October. As soon as I smiled, he winked and said that he was happy for me.