In L’Aquila, where Kylie lived as an exchange student, we spent a plum couple of weeks.

We strolled, we cafe’d, we had genial ‘Ciao’s and ‘Buon giorno’s bestowed on us from all directions by well-wishing locals, we visited cathedrals, took photos of statues, lolled in parks and ate gelato by ancient fountains.

We giggled and pointed at little 3-wheeled trucks trundling down cobbled lanes, oohed and aahed over the cutest stray puppies, we perused tiny art houses and watched kids playing soccer in an alleyway with an old tin can (this might have freaked them out a little).

Kylz pointed out the communist cafe (called ‘Boss’, not a little ironically), where people mill outside and call on passers by to throw off the shackles of their imperialist masters (or so we imagined).

To our endless amusement, we also spent hours sipping lattes in a cafe overloooking the town piazza, giggling at the sight of men of all ages greeting each other with kisses on both cheeks (where else in the world?).