I was once waiting for a bus in Rome to take me to Pescara on the other side of the country. The bus was late, so I drifted into a local bar and ordered a beer. Seven hours later I was still there as I'd picked up a conversation with some old boys and through a mixture of French, Spanish and English managed to converse. They bought me a meal, and endless beer and wine. I missed the bus obviously, but I stayed with the bar owner's uncle—I mean not literally—and in the morning he drove me to Pescara himself as he said he had family there he wanted to see. And that is my only trip to Rome!

Cheers!