lockdown!

My last night in Bologna, I was a little sad to be leaving the city and my friends there. After spending the day showing mum the sights of "my" city, I was in the hotel room throwing on the least stinky clothes I could find, ready to have dinner with Zoe before we headed out for drinks.

A few hours later, we left the cool (cheap) little place on a cool (slightly dodgy) little street and made the trek across the city, past the works of our favourite local graf artist, past the admiring glances of Italian men, around the dog turds and towards the bar that we both pretended we were 'so over', but had to admit we'd had some fun in. We were met on the street by a girl handing out 'two for one' drink cards which we happily pocketed before we headed inside. A smiling bundle of joy, our friend Ari (who featured in the drunken Friday adventures of week two) found us and brought us to the table where other friends awaited.

The night was a mixture of Italian and English, with some French and German on the side. We drank, we talked, we laughed at our (er..my) Italian mistakes, we drank some more. The drinks were cheap, the bartender friendly, and the company interesting. I got into some sort of debate with an American guy, which ended when we realised we both agreed, at which point we went on to the far more important topic of whether we should drink a spritz or a beer next. Finally, 2am and it was time for the bar to shut down.

Not quite tearful goodbyes, but sad nonetheless. Hugs and best wishes, write to me and all the rest, suddenly I realised Ari was still in the bar and it was about to close. I dashed inside to grab her for a hug, and suddenly the garage style doors slammed down. "Looks like you're staying a little longer" someone murmered, "have a beer, on the house". Friendly barman turned kidnapper, but when he's footing the bill who's complaining! I turned to check that Zoe was still there and we settled in for the night, beers in hand, our own private party of twelve.

4am and I was worried that mum would be worried (she was) so I announced that I was leaving. End of party, everyone suddenly realised it was late and they had school the next day, or they were tired, or maybe the owner had run out of beer. More goodbyes in hushed 'don't wake the neighbours' tones, a few last minute snaps, and a walk along memory lane to the tailor's street, a grumpy doorman and a relieved mother. 2 hours of sleep, packing in a hurry, onto the train to Venice.

If you're ever in Bologna, hit up the Lime Bar on Via Zamboni, you might just be in for one of the cooler nights of your life.