There’s something quietly magical about Italy in December. The crowds thin, the air crisps, and the country takes on a slower, more intimate rhythm. I wandered through ancient ruins in Rome wrapped in a winter coat, watched gondolas glide through a misty Venice, and stood small beneath the towering peaks of the Dolomites. From the still waters of Lake Garda to Milan’s chic, festive streets, every stop held its own kind of wonder.
This wasn’t the Italy of sun-drenched postcards — it was softer, moodier, and utterly unforgettable. Here’s a little love letter to the places I saw, the moments I lived, and the beauty I carried home with me.
