Winter has arrived in Bologna, not with a bang but a whimper.

As I am accustomed to at home, the nights come quickly and early, and the cold crept so slowly into my bones day after day until one day I found myself walking to class in a shirt and jeans before I realised I was freezing to death.

The Italians however don’t have this problem. Like birds flying south or hibernating bears, the Italian instinct is to prepare for winter long before it even arrives. It seemed in early October, everyone in the country joins together in the annual tradition of putting away the summer wardrobe, and replaces it with nothing but matching bomber jackets and ridiculously large scarves. The average temperature may have swung between 15 and 21 degrees, but that didn’t stop the residents of Bologna wrapping up for a nuclear winter before the Autumn leaves had started falling.

But with the cold mornings and dark evenings come some of the most wonderful of winter traditions; Christmas lights and Christmas markets with fluffy gloves and sweet mulled wine, coffee with whipped cream to build that winter blubber, movie nights in with good friends, and hot whiskies with those soon to be.

Even though I will be spending Christmas at home, it’s hard to resist that Christmas spirit the first time you see the lights go up. Between the International students of the course from Germany, Austria, the UK, the USA, and every country in between, we talk of Christmas traditions and family customs and my mind always wanders to a crackling fire and cups of tea in Clontarf, like a cheesey ad for Dunnes or M&S in December.

Still despite the protestations of a select few about the cold, it hasn’t kept us from venturing out from our cosy lairs to explore the country. I had to return to Siena.

Driving down the autostrada from Bologna towards Tuscany, my English friend complained that the state of the roads was altogether Third World. In fact, we’d have had a more comfortable ride driving to Siena via Kinshasa. For me, roads are included on my long list of things in Italy that shouldn’t be left up to the Italians (along with pop music, administration, and bread). In fact the entire road system seemed like it had only been invented a fortnight before, and the country was currently upgrading the original network of Roman roads in order to catch up with the rest of Europe. In this respect I suppose it reminded me of home…

From the decaying road however stretches a still-flourishing winter countryside. On the Bologna side of the Apennines stretches a yawning plain and the agricultural engine of Italy, which meets the mountain range almost in surprise before you are swallowed whole by the autostrada’s burrowed tunnels. Shot out the other end, swerving past assorted obstacles of forgotten roadworks and unfinished bypasses along with the Italian drivers out for blood, the unmistakable Tuscany greets you with a familiarity that touches even those who have never been to Italy before. It’s November so you don’t quite get the rows of heavy vines nor or olive trees, but Firenze’s Duomo and Monteriggioni’s walls are always enough to make me wonder why I ever left Tuscany two years previously.

Making a trip back to my old stomping ground in Siena I was surprised at how much it affected me to see the old town that hadn’t changed in 500 years, never mind in the two years since I left it. The Italian architecture aside, the feeling of seeing old homes and well-frequented bars in Siena reminded me of returning to my hometown in Ennis as I used to do so often, of arriving in a town that has little changed and meeting friends as if I’d never left in the first place.

From Siena our rental Fiesta bravely struggled to take all five of us into the Val d’Orcia with its rolling hills and Cypress lined villas towards the thermal baths of Bagni San Filippo, a treasure we first found while on Erasmus over two years previously.

In the moonlight we clambered past the (decorative?) ‘Do not Climb’ signs onto the sulfurous and steaming waterfall which filled small pools of warm water just big enough for us all to fit. Sitting here in warm water beneath a clear sky, I pondered with a friend if maybe the Italian system was rigged on purpose to make the everyday life of bureaucracy and ‘organisation’ just difficult and confusing enough in order to ensure that the whole world didn’t move here at once.

For now, while exams may be approaching on the near horizon, it’s difficult to let them distract you from enjoying the greater Bacchanalian things Italy has to offer. The key from here on in I imagine will be a great balancing act.