There is no substitute for quiet.
Circumstances sometimes dictate that you make do with the next-best thing. You learn to tune out environmental noise, like someone else's television. You perhaps acquire a jar of disposable earplugs with which to block out wet, gasping, cacophonous snores. You might find that your ability to work in a library or a student lounge improves with an iPod and a good set of isolating headphones.
But sometimes, if only for a little while, the world allows you to function without some level of avoidance. Quiet. Not anything so unsettling as silence. Some rain, a distant car, a cooing pigeon.
It won't last. It is precious.