It was a late one last night.
My Italian housemates from Bologna were in Sardinia and we went out to celebrate the 10 year anniversary of our living together.
It was a fab. We went out to Trocadero, a cute little restaurant tucked away behind the main Corso in Olbia. We drank far too much wine, laughed (a lot), and reminisced about hanging beds over the balcony when the landlord came for the rent because there were only meant to be four single beds in the apartment - we actually had five but six of us slept there.
Looking back, I realise how lucky I was living with Simone, Tamara, Michele, Michela and Luca. The boys cooked lunch for me and have an espresso on the table waiting for me when I staggered out of bed (I'm not an early morning person and never have been) and Simone used to take me out for a weekly cappuccino. Tamara, meanwhile, used to help me study Italian and she would feed me the delicious food her Sardinian grandparents had sent her. With Simone and Michele, I'd go swimming twice a week and in the evenings we'd go out to parties, the latest bar or a concert that Tamara had managed to get us into for free.
But the thing I value most about them is that every day they would patiently go through the dissertation I had to write on the link between the Italian media and the political system and correct my Italian or give me other suggestions.
I didn't have any non-Italian friends in Bologna that year. I didn't need to. I wasn't homesick or needing to speak English because I was having the time of my life.
In Italy, as I've mentioned before, there is the saying 'chi trova un amico, trova un tesoro', which in English translates as ' he who finds a friend, finds a treasure'.
Italians may take a while to strike up true friendships, but when they do they are forever.
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