The lights are up on Via de’ Tornabuoni, signalling the official start of Christmas in Florence. They swing in that elegant, understated Florentine way, while the shop windows drip with gold and red velvet. The air smells distinctively of roasted chestnuts and the damp stone of the palazzi. It is objectively beautiful.
It is the kind of scene that people fly thousands of miles to stand in the middle of, wrapping their scarves a little tighter as they take selfies in the piazza. And yet, here I am, asking myself the same question I ask every December: Why is it so cold?
If you’ve read my blog before, you know the drill. My internal thermometer is permanently set to Rio de Janeiro. In my soul, Christmas isn’t bulky coats and grey skies; it’s samba, barbecue smoke wafting through the air, and the oppressive, glorious heat of high summer. It’s loud music and family numbers so big you lose count of the cousins.
Fast forward to Christmas 2025, and life looks a little different.
The Reality of Expat Life in Winter
Being an expat means making a constant, silent trade-off. We trade the comfort of the familiar for the thrill of the new. We trade the easy, chaotic family gatherings of our childhood for carefully scheduled FaceTime calls across time zones. And at Christmas, that trade-off feels heavier. The silence of a smaller celebration can sometimes drown out the carol singers.
This year, the “suck” factor—that visceral feeling of missing out that I felt during my first freezing Christmas in York back in ’91—is still there, just quieter. It’s a dull ache rather than a sharp pain.
But here is the thing I have learned after decades of living in Italy: we build our own warmth.
Navigating Christmas in Florence (and the Cold)
When you are moving to Florence, nobody warns you about the humidity. The cold here isn’t just a temperature; it’s a personality trait of the city. It seeps into your bones. But over the years, I’ve learned to trade my Havaianas for heavy wool and embrace the local cures for the winter blues.
We head to Piazza Santa Croce for the Weihnachtsmarkt (German Market), grabbing a cup of steaming Vin Brulè not just because it tastes good, but because it’s a survival mechanism for your hands. We debate the eternal Italian battle of Panettone vs. Pandoro (I’m firmly team Pandoro, by the way—give me that vanilla-scented, sugary mountain over candied fruit any day).
These small rituals ground us. They remind us that while we may miss the traditions of home, we are lucky enough to be adopting new ones in one of the most culturally rich cities on earth.
Building a Community in Florence
Since moving to Florence, I’ve realised that while I can’t replicate the Rio heat, I can replicate the spirit. We have built our own little tribe here. It’s a patchwork family of friends, clients-turned-friends, and fellow expats who are all missing someone, somewhere else.
We bond over the absurdity of Italian bureaucracy, we share tips on where to find the best ingredients for a non-Italian Christmas dinner, and we drink wine that is frankly better than anything we’d have back home.
This year, with the tourism numbers in Florence finally levelling out after the summer madness, the city feels a bit more like ours again. Walking past the Duomo this morning, wrapped in three layers, I didn’t just feel the cold. I felt a sense of ownership.
Why The “Trade-Off” is Worth It
My grown-up son is navigating his own expat life now, which adds a bittersweet layer to the holiday logistics—trying to align calendars and flights. But it also fills me with pride. He is out there seeing the world, just like I did. He is trading his own comforts for his own adventures.
So, as we head into the thick of the holiday season, I’m trying to focus less on what is missing (the beach, the barbecue, the grandparents who are long gone) and more on what is right here. The cobbled streets that trip me up, the confusing recycling calendar, the friends who have become family, and this magnificent, beautiful city.
It’s not Rio. It never will be. But the adventures I’ve had to get here? I would still have it no other way.
Buon Natale, everyone. Go find your warmth.
