Here in Lublin, Poland, heavy snowfalls have usually begun by the end of December with the city remaining heavily blanketed until at least the end of March. In residential areas one often wakes early at this time of year to the crack and scrape of shovels against the pavement, writes Alan Desmond.
For the most part, though, the favoured weapon in the struggle against the snow is not the shovel but sand. Rickety motorised contraptions that pass for trucks spew it onto the roads and shabbily dressed men amble along the footpaths digging fistfuls of sand from a bucket, scattering it haphazardly about.
This snow-sand mixture is as difficult to negotiate as is a beach of dry sand. So it is little wonder that a common topic of conversation among the denizens of Lublin this January was the absence of any snow. Much was made of the fact that instead of - 10, temperatures were closer to 10 degrees Celsius.
By the end of the month, though, the snow had fallen thick and fast and temperatures sank to the freezing levels that winter in this part of Poland usually brings.
Such factors count for little, however, with an appreciable number of Polish young women who, regardless of weather, will pull on knee-high boots and knee-length skirts.
Standing less than 200 kilometres south-east of Warsaw and just 100 kilometres west of the Ukrainian border, Lublin is the biggest city in eastern Poland with a population of 400,000. Despite its inhospitable climate, it has much to recommend it. The city has a youthful and vibrant feel, thanks largely to its five third-level colleges. In one of these, the Catholic University of Lublin (KUL), Irish has been taught since 1984. KUL's most celebrated former employee is Karol Wojtyla, who was professor of ethics there until his election as Pope in 1978. Under Communism the university was a stronghold of Catholic intellectual opposition; it currently numbers among its staff two MEPs.
Students of the five-year English Philology MA course are obliged to take either Irish or Welsh for three hours a week during their third and fourth years. This is as great a surprise to many students as it might be to their Irish counterparts. There is, however, a genuine appreciation of this unusual opportunity. Classes are sometimes attended by students from neighbouring universities, student-run Irish dancing classes are held weekly and an annual Celtic Days festival is organised in April, with lectures on Celtic history and culture and workshops on Irish and Welsh, all culminating in a night of Celtic-flavoured conviviality.
The highlight of Lublin is without doubt its old town, which contrasts sharply with the surrounding residential tower blocks that dominate the landscape as far as the eye can see. With its cobbled streets and fading façades, the old town gives a sense of authenticity and faded grandeur. One can imagine without much difficulty how life might have looked during its heyday as a commercial and cultural centre in the 16th century.
During summer months the area spills over with the outdoor furniture of its many cafés and restaurants as Lublin's inhabitants re-emerge from their homes, having first made sure that winter has definitely bade them farewell.
The old town also holds the seemingly obligatory Irish pub. Apart from its higher than average prices, there is little about the place that brings Ireland to mind. It is, nevertheless, frequented by Lublin's trendy and moneyed sets as well as by the city's small Irish community.
A number of plaques around the old town serve as a reminder that before the second World War Lublin was one of the most important Jewish centres in Poland. It is probably for this reason that the suburb of Majdanek was chosen as the site for a notorious Nazi death camp.Though numbering nearly 40,000 before the war, Lublin's Jewish population is barely in evidence today. The city is, however, being visited by increasing numbers of Western Jews.
Given the city's proximity to Ukraine it is not surprising that the recent political convulsions there were matched here by smaller but equally sincere shows of support for the Ukrainian opposition. Many people sported orange ribbons and a few hundred gathered on Plac Litewski, one of the main city squares, to form a "chain of Polish-Ukrainian solidarity".
One of the joys of Lublin for someone acquainted with the Irish cost of living is the cheapness of everyday goods. A half-litre of Polish beer is the equivalent of just over a euro while a main course in a top restaurant can be had for about €5.
Of course, on a Polish salary matters quickly take on a different complexion - it is said that the average Polish doctor would earn more by picking strawberries in Sweden.
One thing that can't be gainsaid, though, is the quality of the food. A particular favourite is ruskie pierogi - filled with cheese and potato. A pleasure that even the heaviest snow cannot diminish.