From the shores of the Mediterranean to the snows of Kouvola

Vol 28, Issue 23, 17 April 2026

We are used to thinking of the seasons as a predictable and reassuring cycle. Living ten minutes from the sea, the transition from summer to winter is marked by the rhythm of the rain, the return of thick jumpers and the foliage that colours the streets. It is a perceptible change, certainly, but never extreme: just a few centimetres of snow are enough to bring a city to a standstill and close the schools, as if we were unprepared spectators of an extraordinary event.

However, nothing had prepared me for the impact of Finland.

Living in Kouvola means redefining the concept of ‘impossible’. In the space of just four months, I have seen the thermometer swing from -25°C to +15°C, a temperature range that in my home town would seem like a meteorological error. Yet, here, life does not stop. Whilst in Italy snow is an exception that suspends daily life, in Finland it is the carpet upon which one walks to get to lectures.

I still remember the amazement of those first mornings: icy roads and mountains of snow taller than the passers-by, yet the university lecture halls remain full.

The physical adjustment was immediate and almost surreal. I learnt what it means to feel the frost that crystallises your eyelashes and freezes the tips of your hair the moment you step outside. But it is precisely in this extreme setting that I rediscovered the value of the ‘little things’.

In Finland, one’s relationship with nature becomes intimate and profound. I have learnt to appreciate a special kind of magic in the silence of the snow, which, like a thick white blanket, manages to muffle every sound, bestowing an almost metaphysical peace upon the city. In this setting, you learn to take nothing for granted, feeling a deep gratitude for the light: that single ray of sunshine warming your face at -10°C becomes a precious gift, a small daily victory against the frost.

It is a lesson in determination that shines through in every corner: seeing how an entire community manages to flourish and remain active despite such a hostile climate changes you inside.

This experience has taught me that the change of season is not just a meteorological event, but an exercise in mindset. Leaving the comfort of the sea for the Scandinavian ice has given me a new skin: more resilient, more attentive and capable of appreciating the immense value of small things.