Written by: Mahir Daiyan Ashraf
I used to think winter in Europe was just like in the movies.
You know what I mean. Snow falling in slow motion. Warm, bustling Christmas markets. Golden lights. People holding hot chocolate. And it is like that, until the wind hits your face and you realize the cold is very real, too.
I’m from Bangladesh. I’m not built for this.
Vienna was my reminder that Europe does not do winter halfheartedly. We trained in, and the city instantly felt composed. We started with the Vienna State Opera, then wandered along the museums and the kind of grand buildings that made me slow down to appreciate them for a bit.
And then evening arrived and Vienna switched on.
Stephansplatz was glowing. Gold fairy lights hung overhead along the streets and kept catching on red ornaments. We passed St. Stephen’s Cathedral and strolled through the Christmas market there. We ended up at Rathausplatz after, and it really did feel like the center of it all. Decorations so grand, people everywhere, friends and families clustered together, and the magnificent Rathaus lit up in the background.
The food did its job too. Hot chocolate, chimney cakes, bretzels, and that sweet smell of cinnamon wafting through the air and making the cold feel less aggressive for a moment.
The next day I daytripped to Budapest and met up with three friends, and suddenly the weekend stopped feeling composed and started feeling fast. We went up to Buda Castle, into the National Gallery and the library, and then found ourselves watching the sunset. At 4 PM… winter daylight is genuinely ridiculous here.
But it was worth it. From up there, we watched the Pest side slowly wake up across the Danube. Lights came on early, one by one, and the whole city turned this beautiful shade of orange. The Hungarian Parliament stood out across the river, tall and imposing, not just part of the skyline but the thing the skyline was built around.
And then it started snowing.
Not the “cute flakes” kind. Real snow. Massive flakes. The kind that made everything feel ten times colder. We took a hot chocolate break and just watched Budapest in the snow for a bit, hands wrapped around the warm mug.
We went to Fisherman’s Bastion after, got the views, and then immediately made a classic mistake on the way down by taking the wrong bus. It was just the driver and us, and neither side understood the other, so the whole situation became guessing, hand gestures, and awkward laughter. After a long detour, we made it to the Parliament and the Shoes on the Danube.
Eventually I headed back to Vienna, and the wind there was not playing around. The gusts kept pushing me sideways as I walked, snow coming down hard enough to start whitening the streets and piling onto cars, while the red trams kept moving through it all like clockwork.
The next morning, we went to Schönbrunn’s Christmas market, and then it was time to head back to Metz. The train ride back was its own drama. Let’s just call it another Deutsche Bahn tale, by now we can assume what that means.
I got back and the fever hit that night, like my body waited until I was safely home to finally crash. The annoying part is that it makes the whole weekend feel even more real in hindsight, because the photos look magical and my memory of it is basically: lights, snow, wind, hot chocolate, repeat.
And with a trip to the Arctic Circle coming up… oh boy. I better brace up.
