I am pining for Italy. Go out into the streets and squares around seven in the evening, just before you discuss food. Lecce would be a town I would want to go back to, with its lovely, gentle African fishermen wanting to practise their English on you. Go for the simplest meal you can, in the most basic resturant. Go where the locals go. I got caught up in a spectacular leftish demonstration in Brindisi: on top of mixed meats and a seafood platter. An even bigger one in Rome, right by the Coliseum. My word, they did not like that sleazeball Berlusconi!
In 2022, I'm pretty much sold on this idea/ideal. Falling down drunk has not been my idea of a good time for many a long year.
I'm still pining for Italy, for Liguria specifically, where I first fell in love with that glorious country. I had not yet passed my Eleven Plus exam.