When in Rome...

Italy really is a different world. Much like Paris however, the year abroad experience is teaching me that on my travels, you really never know what’s round the corner and last Friday night taught me this more than anything. Going for a ‘few drinks’ was the first mistake of the night. You know if you declare it’ll only be a few then it will inevitably end up as an all night session. Four cocktails and two shots each later we were paninied (only true Michael Mcintyre fans will understand this little Italian-related anecdote). My flatmate Beau was doing her best to practise her Italian by explaining to two Sicilian men how she was looking to marry into the Mafia so if they knew anyone interested, to point them her way. It was at this point that our table was graced by the presence of the best part of the ‘Rugby Roma’ squad. What succeeded is a blur but from the major photographic evidence captured, it involved table dancing, bitch fights, me uttering the words “what can I get for four euros twenty” to the simple answer of “nothing”, and, of course, the unnecessary drunken meal of real.italian.pizza. Win! The next thing we know, we’re walking through the ‘Piazza Venezia’, heels in hand, at 6am in the morning, watching the sun come up and thinking to ourselves/shouting out for all to hear “this is the life!” Pity I didn’t feel as enthusiastic waking up four hours later with a cracking headache, two stolen shot glasses in my handbag and a text from my friend saying ‘are you alive?’.