Local Tourism in Dear Bee

Bianca,
Today was a good day. Nothing spectacular happened. It was just in its very essence, a good day.
There is this magical moment when Spring begins. One day its cold, and the next it isn’t. Seriously, it’s the earth doing its thing, at its finest. I am in love with it.
So the sky was blue, and the sun was out, and everything was tinged in warm. And I shaved my legs and decided to wear a skirt.
I don’t do that often, mostly because I like not standing out at university. But I wore a dress, and it showed my calves and the breeze played with the hem much like the ocean waves play with your hair.
And it was just good.
And you know what else? I went to University. It’s the first Tuesday in ages, that I’ve done that. And my lecture was hard, and I’m not entirely sure what Bouwer was trying to teach us today but all I know is some bacteria are inherently acidifiers and they like to oxidise sulphur. Which makes them kinda cool.
And a few of my friends were there and it was just good.
You know how in the Bible, when God created the earth? And Genesis is all: and God stopped and saw that what He created was Good.
That’s what this day was. There was nothing inherently special about it, it in itself was just good.
I am most pleased about the fact that I can recognise and acknowledge that goodness. Because too many people just walk past it, and don’t pay attention to it. Several months ago, I know I wouldn’t have felt the way I feel today about this day.
It kind of reminds me of a day I spent in Italy. We were going to have an art class outside on the Piazza.
In Florence there is a little square called the Piazza de Santa Maria Novella, the name comes from the church that is found within the square.
What makes it super pretty is this marble façade, and we learnt from the tour guide that the façade was carved by hand from layers of marble, hundreds of years ago.
It’s truly awe-inspiring and breath taking. We found ourselves one morning sitting cross legged on the cobblestones, with easels and sketch pads and we drew it.
And we stopped to eye it with our pencils as all art students do, and we noticed the other tourists. But among the tourists who marvelled and ooohed and aaahed over the damn façade, there were locals, who briskly walked past. Grumbling, mumbling, coffee in hand. Places to go and people to see.
And I kept thinking how much I would love to live here, that if I did, I would come to that green bench and sit each morning with a cappuccino or a gelato in the summer and spend the morning before work, or lunch here, at the front of this façade and just take it in. Because how could anyone take it for granted?
And then I realised that the locals did, because the locals have it. Just like I have elephants and lions in practically my back yard. So I figured I would be sad if I ever became a local in Italy like that, not even stopping for 10 seconds to say, “Daaaaaaamn, Boticelli this design is fine”, before moving along.
When you’re around something for long enough you get desensitised, its actually basic biology.
I mean, when you first sit on a chair your ass tells your brain “Yo, brain we is sitting now, you good?” and the brain is all “Copy, Sergeant Buttocks, please address me as Captain Brain from now on, over.” And the interaction ends, your ass doesn’t keep telling your brain over and over and over. In fact, if you’re sitting right now, you’ll be conscious of it, briefly before the sensation goes away again.
But point of this is this. When you’re in one place for long enough you stop noticing. It’s the same as spending the weekend in a different city with a stranger skyline, and then coming home and you and see how different it is.
Or when you spend a long time away from home, and when you finally do come back, very briefly you get that smell that you associate with Home, but it’s gone as soon as you notice it. And you forget about it because you don’t notice it constantly either. You would go mad if you did.
So I guess, my hypothesis is this. If you spent each day as a tourist, rather than a local, you’d be appreciating and noticing a whole bunch of stuff you otherwise normally wouldn’t.
And I feel like today I was a tourist, and not a local. And maybe that’s the secret to “happy”. We both know the quotes, happiness isn’t a destination, it’s a journey. So maybe it’s about having the mindset of a tourist? Maybe its about the mental choice you have to make each morning to see the good. Maybe its shaving your legs, and wearing a skirt.
Maybe its just me, sitting here, writing a letter to my friend who is above the equator, as she listens to Christmas carols way too early, and gets ready for Fall.
I love you
Sending hugs
J.