Knackered from an early flight and needing to kill time before checking into the hotel, a quick drink in an Italian bar seems like a pretty appealing option. This isn’t quite the chic wine bar we were hoping for - more a neon-backed pizza restaurant - but eventually through broken Italian and English we establish we just want a drink, and get a couple of glasses of an anonymous white wine and some strips of pizza bread to eat, which all hits the spot needing hitting. We don’t avail ourselves of the little sachets of olive oil, mostly for lack of side dishes, but it doesn’t seem like the vibe either way.