Moving abroad is often romanticized—but no one tells you how lonely the first winter feels.
I’ve been living in Italy for almost five years now. I arrived on January 15, 2021, just shy of my 19th birthday, filled with fear and uncertainty. I was worried I wouldn’t adapt to the culture, the language, or the environment. But I had a clear goal: to complete my bachelor’s degree at the University of Turin, graduate, and return home.
The first two years were the hardest. On top of the regular challenges of moving abroad, we were still deep in the Covid-19 pandemic. Attending university was complicated, and connecting with others felt almost impossible. In 2021, I spent most of the year alone in my apartment. The city frequently entered red-zone lockdowns—we couldn’t go out or access indoor spaces like classrooms. I was without my family, had no friends yet, and I was freezing.
I was fortunate to already speak Italian very well before arriving, as I completed my bachelor’s degree entirely in Italian. This helped me a lot in adapting academically and socially, and language was never a major barrier for me. However, language can be a significant challenge for many immigrants, especially older generations who often do not speak English. Fortunately, the Italian government offers free classes to teach at least basic Italian, which helps newcomers integrate better into daily life.
One thing that’s rarely talked about when you move to another country is the climate shock. I’m proudly Brazilian, from the state of São Paulo, where our “winter” barely lasts two months—June and July—with temperatures between 5°C and 18°C. Even then, the sun often warms up the day by noon. I used to tell people I loved winter, but I had no idea what I was talking about. The moment I stepped out of the airport in Milan and felt that icy wind, I regretted everything I’d said.
Brazil is in the Southern Hemisphere, so our seasons are reversed. When I boarded the plane in Guarulhos, it was 35°C. When I landed in Milan, it was 5°C, with traces of snow on the streets. For the first time in my life, I felt wind so cold it seemed to freeze my bones.
I was completely lost—even in simple things, like dressing for the cold. In my hometown, we don’t use indoor heating, so the temperature inside and outside is more or less the same. In Turin, though, it could be 25°C indoors and close to zero outside. It was hard to know what to wear—how to stay warm without overheating. Over time, Italian friends taught me how to dress a cipolla (“like an onion”)—in layers that you peel off as needed.
Food was another adjustment. I actually loved Italian cuisine and didn’t mind eating pasta every day. But I missed the comfort of certain Brazilian dishes: coxinha (chicken croquettes), brigadeiro (chocolate fudge balls), and pastel (fried pastries). I tried to recreate them with Italian ingredients, but they never tasted the same. Especially because they weren’t made by my grandma.
The hardest part, though, was the loneliness. I had always lived with my grandparents, and our home was full of people. Every weekend, we gathered as a family, always doing something together. In Italy, I found myself in silence. That first Christmas and New Year’s Eve were especially painful. Back home, Christmas means flip-flops, beaches, tank tops, and the smell of rabanada (Brazilian French toast).
I had always dreamed of a snowy European Christmas—fireplaces, snowmen, hot drinks—and I did enjoy experiencing that. But a part of me just wanted to teleport home, to be at the beach with the people I love. I was depressed. The winter was long and dark, with very few hours of sunlight. I struggled to stay motivated. Many times, I thought of giving up—dropping out and going back.
But every time I called my family, they were beaming with pride. They told everyone I was studying in Europe. I felt guilty for wanting to give up. I reminded myself that many people would love to have this opportunity. So, I pushed through. I swallowed the tears, ignored the homesickness, and repeated to myself: this is a once-in-a-lifetime chance.
Still, it wasn’t easy. My grades suffered. I had trouble focusing during online classes and my anxiety grew.
Things started to change in the summer of 2022. We returned to in-person exams, and I got a summer job. That allowed me to meet new people—including my current boyfriend. And when you start building relationships, you create emotional anchors. The homesickness doesn’t go away, but it moves to the background. Love and connection begin to take up space in your heart.
As the pandemic eased, my mental health improved, and so did my academic performance. I started to feel like I belonged.
The turning point came in November 2023, when I went back to visit my family and friends after nearly three years away. I realized how much everything had changed—my hometown, the people I knew… and me. I wasn’t that 18-year-old girl anymore. I had grown. I had started to build my independence.
As much as I love Brazil, my culture, my language, my food—I no longer feel the need to return permanently. I’ve learned to love Italy. I love that I can drive three hours from Turin and be in France, or four hours and reach Switzerland. I love having more financial freedom. I love watching snow fall. I love starting my mornings with a real Italian cappuccino.
Now, I’m preparing for yet another move. I’m feeling some of the same things I felt at 18—but this time, I’m excited to fall in love all over again—with a new country, a new culture, new people.
I’m not a professional writer. But if there’s one thing I want to tell you, it’s this: yes, change is hard. Moving abroad is hard. The first years are lonely. Adapting takes time, patience, and persistence. But I wouldn’t trade this experience for anything.
If you’re scared or uncertain, take this as your sign:
Go scared—but go.
Below you’ll find brief stories from some of my friends who are also immigrants:
“My experience after coming to Germany as a student was very difficult and I struggled a lot in terms of living, since I never lived far away from my family. But i am also enjoying and learning to be independent and meeting different people, overall its a very amazing experience” Fahad, UAE
“When I first came to Germany, the biggest challenges for me were the culture shock and the language barrier. People were not always very friendly to those who don’t speak the language, and that was hard for me. But on the positive side, living here gave me a great opportunity to grow as a person and take responsibility for myself.” Turkan, Azerbaijan
“As an Arabic hijabi Muslim girl immigrant in Europe, I struggled a lot. At first, it was the looks and stares from other people, which affected me. Over time, I tried to ignore them because I know who I truly am. Another challenge came when I was looking for a student job. Many people refused to hire Arabic —not because of our experience or work ethic, but simply because of our background. However, despite the bad, there is also good. There are others who give you a chance because they are Muslim too and understand the challenges faced by a Muslim Arabic girl in Europe.
On the positive side, I met many other immigrants from different countries—amazing people who enriched my life. This journey has been a valuable experience because life isn’t always easy or perfect.
So far, this is my experience as an immigrant. To be continued…” Rihab, Morocco
“I moved to Germany to pursue my master’s degree and faced many challenges at first, especially with the language. Over time, I came to appreciate the country’s organization, efficient transport, and cultural diversity. Academic life has been demanding but very rewarding. Still, I deeply miss my family and my home country. This experience has taught me about resilience, longing, and personal growth.” Sabbir, Bangladesh
“ I’m currently studying in Germany, and being here makes me feel more connected to new opportunities. Being an immigrant is challenging because everything feels new and uncertain, but at the same time, it’s an opportunity to grow and see the world from a different perspective. Here I get to discuss topics that are very important in this context but maybe weren’t a priority in my country and I appreciate this opportunity.” Ellysson, Brazil
