The Wolfes say Bravo Italia

Two colleagues invited Jacki to visit their labs in Rome. Barry and Andy said YES! Instead of our week at Bethany Beach, we three trekked to a once-in-a-lifetime family meander through northern Italy.

Tuesday June 20^th we walked out the front door into our 3:30 PM Barwood taxi to Dulles airport. Check-in to Virgin Atlantic was slow, but they accepted our three bags as carry-ons, after Andy generously relocated some of Jacki’s heavier items into his bag. With time to spare, we bought an electrical converter in the main terminal shop, and ate Ben and Jerry’s ice cream and mediocre pizza in luxurious Terminal B. The overnight flight was fine except for the inevitable screaming baby. Jacki put on the airlines’ blindfold and dozed. Barry and Andy solved Sudoku puzzles. Andy watched movies - Lucky Number Sleven, Fun With Dick and Jane. We arrived at London Heathrow around 7 AM. The walk through Heathrow to Alitalia was long and slow, with odd funnelings of the line into narrow halls and single-file staircases. Then a long wait at the Alitalia desk. Luckily the poor baby went to Ireland instead of Rome. Alitalia did not accept Jacki’s brown roll-on as a carry-on bag. We did a lightning re-pack of essentials into Barry’s spare green nylon Sierra Club duffle. Some snoozing, some breakfast with remarkably good red orange juice, on time arrival into Rome’s Leonardo da Vinci Fiumicino airport. Jacki’s brown bag materialized on the carousel, customs was essentially nill, and there was our wonderful Laura Ricceri, waiting for us just inside the terminal, as promised. Laura piled our luggage into her family minivan and barreled through the Rome traffic, showing us the original city wall, Castel St. Angelo, and the 1904 synogogue along the Tiber River. Rome, The Eternal City.

Trastevere is an old old neighborhood in Rome, inhabited by the working class and many Jewish people in earlier centuries. Recently Trastevere became the coolest residential area of Rome, analogous to the Georgetown of Washington. A maze of narrow pretty streets, small houses and apartments, chic restaurants and shops. Luckily Laura called the people at Rome Sweet Rome, our apartment rental office, and figured out how to pick up the key for us at the restaurant across the street, because their rental person was busy with another check-in. While Laura searched for parking, we climbed the steps to our 2- bedroom apartment at Via del Mattonato 24.

The three-floor building had a buzzer entrance, stone steps up to our heavy door with a brass ring knob, classic views of flowering backyards and laundry lines, a long well-equipped kitchen, two comfortable bedrooms, good air conditioning operated by remote controllers, and awful showers. Andy’s was a hand-held spray inside a bathtub. Ours was the front half of the bathroom, with a flimsy curtain and very little hot water that nevertheless flooded the hallway. So what. We thanked Laura tremendously for taking such good care of us. The rental company woman finally showed up and took our carefully guarded cash balance, 720 Euros, that J and B had converted at Chevy Chase Bank on Bethesda Avenue eons ago.

Andy was ready for a good night’s sleep. While he napped, Barry and I had a short rest, then explored our street and found the recommended small grocery store on Vicole di Cinque. Barry bought a bottle of local red wine, idyllic olives, bread, milk, and Cheerios. Andy groggily agreed to being shlepped to see the Coliseum, thus fighting jet lag. We followed the map to the Santa Maria church of Trastevere. Beautiful people lounged around on the steps of the fountain out front, our first photo op. Using maps that J had printed out weeks ago, we nagivated along Via Lungaretta, past a movie theater showing The Da Vinci Code, and walked across the Tiber River at Ponte Palantino. It was hot, still sunny at 6 PM. The long park we were trudging, as locals walked their dogs, turned out to be

Circus Maximus. Scene of gladiator races in ancient Rome and the movie Ben Hur. Now the venue for rock concerts in Rome. Looking up, we saw ancient ruins up the hill on our left. It was Palantine Hill, the earliest temples of Rome.

After just one wrong turn across Via di San Gregorio and up a dead end path, suddenly there was the Coliseum. Right in the middle of city traffic. But closed, unfortunately, contradicting the guidebooks and websites that promised the Coliseum stayed open until dusk in the summer. The ancient ruins were shockingly real, even from the outside. Rows and rows of rows, constructed of stone for the millennia. We peeked through cracks in the doors and saw most of the seats and statues. At a snack cart across the road, Barry had a lemon drink while Andy and I scarfed down our first gelatos. Sat on a ledge and stared at history.

We trudged home, taxis roaring by but not stopping. Lots of life lessons about waiting for the light and crossing at crosswalks. Those Italian drivers and especially motocyclists are uninterested in pedestrians. Barry panicked often. Back in Trastevere, Andy went right to bed. B&J unpacked, unwound, and listened to a violin trio serenading the patrons at the restaurant out our back bedroom window. We three slept like logs that night.

Thursday was The Vatican Museum. Having recuperated somewhat, we walked out of Trastevere and happened upon a taxi at the river. The nice driver showed us the line for tickets, which was just a five minute wait, and wham, the most splendid ceilings in the world. Big foyer entrance with a money exchange booth, where I was able to change a few hundred US $ into Euros without a passport at a reasonable exchange rate and fee. We crossed the garden, ogled its centerpiece, a big metal globe missing chunks, by Arnaldo Pomodoro, and read some of the side poster boards that explained the paintings throughout the Sistine Chapel. Then inside, following the crowds. To the right was a room filled with marble statues of the heads of ancient Romans, Caesars and Senators. To the left were endless halls covered with huge religious paintings, gold ceilings, cupids galore. Full-size statues of hall-of-fame Romans lining both walls. Sarcophagi labeled with the names of ancient Popes. Locked cabinets containing relics? folios? nothing? Spectacular views of Rome from the open windows.

Down steep steps, no handicap access regulations here, to The Sistine Chapel. Exactly as magnificent as expected. Right up there, God giving Adam the spark of life. Kicking Adam and Eve out of the Garden of Eden. Sending the dead to heaven or hell. Noah and his animals. Every inch of wall and ceiling intricately painted with Bible stories, of which I was mostly ignorant. Every five minutes the guards hollered “NO FLASH.” One guard yelled at us to not sit on the floor. Happily, there were enough benches on the side, and enough time to stay and take it all in. Imagine painting on scaffolding on one’s back for years. Michaelangelo, along with all those other ceiling painters of the Vatican and endless Italian churches, they were tough dudes.

Back down the other long hallway of more religious artifacts. We walked along the most wonderful spiral staircase of dark grey stone.

The steps were shallow and wide near the bottom, originally for horses entering. Stopped at the cool empty cafeteria, where Barry had peach ice tea, Andy had a Coke, Jacki had sips. Outside and around the thick outer wall, we bought a bargain packet of Rome postcards from one of the many street vendors lining the sidewalk. Around the corner to St. Peter’s Square. Huge. Obelisk. Statues of saints and angels and warriors above columns and up along the top tier of St. Peter’s Basilica. Andy went up close to look carefully at the obelisk. Later we found out that site was relevant to a scene from Angels and Demons, which Andy had recently read and Jacki had just started. Andy is so good at resisting the temptation to tell plots of books and movies.

Waited in St. Peter's taxi line and got a friendly driver who had the World Cup soccer game on the radio. From his excited Italian and hand language, we understood that Italy was winning against the Czech Republic. The U.S. was losing to Ghana, which meant we were out of the race entirely. Surprisingly, the taxi driver did not gloat. In fact, we experienced very little anti-Americanism during our travels. Apparently Europeans abhor U.S. policies and leaders, but still like American culture and people.

Getting out at Santa Maria Church, the drop-off into the narrow, no-cars streets of Trastevere, we stopped to watch the soccer game outside a coffee shop. Then went inside to the larger TV at the bar of “T-Bone Station, The American Steakhouse.” We passed the beer mug around, including Andy, as there is no drinking age in Italy. Maybe officially 16, but nobody cares. The crowd was groaning and cheering each play. Italy won! Or so we thought. It turned out to be halftime. After a short rest at home, Andy and I went out to the grocery store and saw the game back in action at another restaurant. The chocolate shop was too good to pass by, so we bought a box of the best selection. To ring up our purchase, the beautiful young salesgirl had to re-set the electrical circuit, saying the fuse blew several times a day during the hot summer. Newfangled air conditioning. At the grocery store, we bought more milk, cereal, cookies, and chose an interesting –looking barbell shaped cheese with a straw cord around the center. Unfortunately our two pints of orange juice turned out to be heavy cream. Jacki should have checked her handy calculator-sized pocket translator. We watched Italy beat the Czechs, lazed around in the air conditioned apartment, then dressed for dinner.

Dr. Silvia Mandillo is a behavioral neuroscientist at the Istituto di Biologia Cellulare Consiglio Nationalale delle Ricerche in Monterotondo. We had met at the Eumorphia conference in London two years ago. She, her collaborator Daniela Marazziti who works on an orphan receptor mouse mutant model of Parkinson’s disease, and their boss Glauco Tocchini-Valentini, had invited me to visit their lab in Rome at that time. They came to our house for Sunday brunch during the 2005 Society for Neuroscience meeting. Silvia was very helpful in answering my many tourist questions about planning the family trip to Italy. She hosted my talk the next day in Monterotondo. Glauco invited us to dinner for that Thursday evening. Silvia was late in picking us up at the house. Unfortunately, the Cingular Pay-As-You-Go cell phone, that I spent so much energy getting for this trip, did not work in Europe. The messages Silvia had left were irretrievable. Andy’s cell phone became our lifeline. No problem with being late in Italy. Andy got to take a nap while Barry and I waited outside for Silvia. She is a Rome native and knew every parking space and incipient traffic jam in town.

Silvia pointed out more sights along the long hot drive to the northwest edge of Rome. First was the hospital on Isola Tiberine, the island in the bend of the Tiber River, which is also called the flavus or “blonde” river because it reflects the golden sunset. As we weaved through traffic along Lungotevere, she pointed out a new modern building that just opened. It was an archeology museum, built around ancient sculpture, and took years of road closings and lane reductions during the construction. Arriving at the outskirts of town, we parked way too close to the corner, but the restaurant parking attendant agreed it was okay. Rushing forward to greet us were Glauco, Daniela, her husband Raffaele Matteoni, and their super technician Elisabeth. Everyone walked through the garden entrance to AI Due Otri Ristorante, an outstanding Sardinian restaurant at A.de Viti de Marco 36/38. Glauco lives nearby and knew exactly what to order. First was pane carasau, a crispy flat bread from Sardinian. Next, small portions of unusual fish in great sauces – fried neonatal eel and baby octopus, anchovies, white fish in butter and basil sauces. The main course was perfectly cooked flounder or salmon, with Sardinian wines. Finishing touches included two remarkable Sicilian drinks, grappa and Mirto, made of vodka, cream, honey, and mirto berries, and a dessert of lemon sorbet. Glauco kept the food and drinks coming, and regaled my end of the table with stories of his getting sick in a remote backwater of India while organizing his RNA course for developing countries. He began heavily recruiting me to help him organize a mouse behavior course in Trietse, to expand his Italian-German-Indian consortium. He wanted me to give lectures and organize topics and speakers. He also explained that their Monterotondo group was up for its 5 year renewal and he was going to see the Minister the next day. Apparently they made a deal that if Italy won the World Cup, his Institute's renewal would be approved. Andy, Barry, Daniela, and Raffaele discovered common tastes in books at the other end of the table. Way beyond satiation, we admired the Otri, Estruscan urns, at the entrance to the restaurant, said goodnight, and Silvia drove us back to the entrance to Trastevere. Near the fountain, a sword swallower wannabe kept faking out the audience. Students were partying outside, as high school exams had just ended. Andy walked back to hang out, but returned to the apartment after a short time, saying it was not so great. Another night of sound sleeping in the good air conditioning and comfortable beds, recovering from jet lag pretty well. Angels and Demons kept Jacki enthralled during two or three nights of circadian insomnia.

Friday we split up. Silvia rang the buzzer at 9:30 AM. She and Jacki walked across the quiet morning streets of Trastevere, stopping for a quick look into Santa Maria church, then drove to Monterotondo, a long, hot, leafy road. Her Istituto di Biologia Cellulare-Consiglio, was northwest of Rome, at Campus A. Buzzati-Traverso, Via E. Ramarini 32, I-00016 Monterotondo Scalo. Attractive low lab buildings, originally built by an oil company, with big windows in each office. Glauco, Silvia and Jacki talked about the Trieste course content, the best journal for their Eumorphia manuscript, and the history of their Institute. J’s seminar, “How would you model the symptoms of autism in mice?” was in a comfortable well-equipped conference room. Most of the videoclips played. Laura Ricceri and Igor Branchi attended. Glauco, Silvia, and their many smart colleagues asked lots of interesting questions about autism-related behaviors. Lunch was on tables outside in the courtyard – proscuitto, tomatoes, mozzarella balls, breads, wine. Glauco left a gift of a bottle of white wine for J, and headed into traffic to the Minister’s meeting. Silvia toured J through her set of 4 mouse behavioral test rooms and mouse holding room. She demonstrated a clever version of the Ugo Basile rotarod, that she had custom designed with Ugo Basile himself, to reverse directions and rock in small arcs. Perhaps her new method solved some of the problems that Eumorphia had experienced with high variability in their rotarod results across test sites. Cage enrichment included placing a whole packet of litter in its autoclave bag into the clean cage, and letting the mice have fun tearing the bag into nesting materials and scattering the litter across the cage floor. Their small test rooms held standard videotracking open field, water maze, elevated plus maze, etc. Mumna Al Banchaabouochi toured me through her behavioral test rooms, somewhat more spacious and newer, with similar equipment plus operant chambers. She is the woman recruited by Nadia Rosenthal to run the mouse behavioral phenotyping service for the adjacent European Molecular Biology Laboratory group in Monterotondo. I had met her at the University of Puerto Rico Neuroscience symposium a few years ago. Mumna had toured our University of North Carolina mouse lab, and hosted Sheryl Moy’s visit to Monterotondo last year. Good conversations with Cornelius Gross about housing environments and anxiety-related behaviors in mice, and with Daniela and Silvia about their findings of opposite effects of amphetamine and cocaine on locomotor sensitization in their GPR37 knockout mice.

Silvia, Andy, Jacki, and Pauline outside of the Antonello da Messina exhibit

Around 5 PM, Silvia drove me and her French postdoc Pauline Fenestre back into Rome, another long hot trip. Pauline is intellectually curious, hardworking, ambitious, and really nice. She heads off to Pierve Piazza’s lab in Bordeaux in a few months. We found an amazing free parking space on a side street (Silvia went into the restaurant next to the space for confirmation), near the Scuderie del Quirinale art museum, where we had arranged to meet Andy and Barry at 6:30 to catch the Antonello da Messina exhibit during its last weekend in Rome. We walked past the President’s palace, and the column at Piazza Venezia, and there B&A were, standing in line under the awning at the museum entrance. The building used to be papal stables, and had those same shallow steps for horses that we admired at the Vatican museum. The exhibit comprised two floors of portraits and religious scenes by da Messina and his influencees. Silvia and Pauline went slowly because they could read the descriptions in Italian. Barry, Andy and I were tired from our respective long days (see theirs below), so we moved through more quickly, and waited on the comfortable couches with big window views of Rome on the first floor, and then on modern lounge benches upstairs.

From the museum we walked to Trevi Fountain. Rows of mythic figures sculpted in marble, spewing gushes of water into a big pool. Tourists and Romans taking dips, sitting on the wide steps, couples kissing. Silvia instructed us to throw a small coin over the left shoulder into the water, which ensures one’s return to Rome. A second coin meant you would return to your sexy Italian lover. We met Cornelius and his pregnant wife Anne at a nearby pasta and pizza restaurant, I Chianti, subtitled The Black Cock. Glauco had told us the legend about a land dispute between Siena and Asciano(?) (Arezzo?), that was settled by roosters crowing. Siena’s black cock won. The multi-topped pizza and a dense salad with gorgonzola cheese went great with their house wine. Silvia knows everything about Rome. She took us to Il Gelato di San Crispino for the very best gelato. San Crispino’s was the first of many great varieties of stracciatella, the chocolate chip gelato, that Andy taste tested during the trip. We finally said good night and decided to walk home. A&B led me through some of the places they had seen during the day, including the Pantheon, which looked so different at night.

A&B had had a terrific day sightseeing. The ancient Pantheon, Trevi Fountain, obelisks galore. Piazza Navone’s silver mime people in costumes of Death and the Statue of Liberty. There was Tre Scalina, the restaurant I'd been hearing about for years, where Barry first tasted tortellini con crème with Bob DeLapp in the 1970s.

Saturday June 24. Jacki nagged Barry to buy laundry detergent, only to find the kitchen washing machine did not advance into the spin

cycle. B hand rinsed in the sink, wrung, and hung our clothes on the pulley line out the window, next to the television with Sky TV electronics. J called the rental office and then the landlord to ask about the washing machine. The owner said “it’s new, it’s electronic, we don’t know how to fix it. And as I always tell my wife, there’s better things to do in Rome than laundry.” Oh well. The dirty soapy water is probably still sitting in the washing machine right now. Lazing around the apartment, Jacki read Dan Brown’s Angels and Demons all day and late into the night.

Another walk across the Tiber, at Ponte Sisto, as A&B showed J the sights she had missed yesterday. Piazza Navone, artists painting pastels in the open courtyard, those silvered street performers looking so hot in full-length clothes and face paint, on stilts, standing around in the shade near the fountain that was "Water" in Angels and Demons. We continued on to the Rotten Boat fountain on the dramatic approach to the Spanish Steps. Beautiful flowers along the elegant 1700s stone steps. Backpackers everywhere. A table for donations to an AIDS hospice, where Jacki signed the petition and gave $10 and received a handshake and a nod of recognition when she wrote her occupation down as scientist.

We regrouped in the shade near the Trinita dei Monti French church. Andy and Barry were seasoned map readers by now. Andy was amazingly good at leading us without fuss through winding vicolo (alley) after curving piazza (open square area) and suddenly here we are. Barry kept us from crossing against the light, worrying like our old aunt about speeding cars and daredevil motorcyclists. The group decision was to continue north to Villa Borghese, the aristocratic palace and gardens. Tree lined paths, beginning with a film museum and bookstore. Quiet, if not actually cool. A gelato stand revived us. The Museo Borghese had a big Raphaele exhibition banner waving out front. Unfortunately, as we had been warned by Laura and Silvia, tickets to Rome’s most famous artist were all gone, in fact reserved up through the end of June. Instead we perused the gift shop and saw the famous Raphael paintings in the museum’s books. The building itself was a gorgeous gilt palace. We strolled along just far enough to see the conservatory, but missed the zoo, a little further down the road.

Walking out of the park toward the bus stop, we found a taxi that dropped us at our Trastevere fountain. Santa Maria Church of Trastevere had open doors, so we tiptoed in. Elaborately decorated very old church. A funeral was in progress. Great singing, large wreaths of flowers carried by well-dressed men. Next door we bought tickets into the local Musei di Rome in Trastevere. Downstairs was a Francesco Zizola photography exhibit of black and white horrors in Iraq, Somalia, etc. B&J had seen Frank Sisola at the University of North Carolina art museum last year. Upstairs, Donne di Trastevere 1971-1972, intimate black and white photos of girls, beautiful women, and old grandmas doing the wash and shopping, on the neighborhood streets that we recognized immediately. Funny life-size dioramas of street scenes and kitchens and a scribe business in earlier centuries in Trastevere. Piano 2 meant second floor, but there was also a piano in a small concert room lined with paintings of the old neighborhood, before it was built up. On the walk back to Via del Mattonato 24, we took photos of Vicola della Scala, Via Garabaldi, the tiny appealing Smart cars in candy colors, the Vespa parked at our front door, and the multitude of Italian flags hanging from apartment windows to celebrate the soccer victories.

Laura and her colleague Igor Branchi, who had visited our lab during SFN and given us advice on mouse pup ultrasonic vocalizations, met us for dinner. Laura had her motorcycle, due to complicated logistics of returning from the beach to bring her kids to her sister, while her husband rushed to his job as sports editor for La Republicca newspaper. Instead of hassling with transportation, we ate at the restaurant right outside our front door, Da Lucia. Andy and I tried the house specialty, coniglio cacciatori, rabbit in white wine, and grilled vegetables. Barry, Laura and Igor had good simple pastas. The waiter seemed annoyed that we didn’t order dessert or enough wine, and the serenaders wanted more financial appreciation. Laura kindly called the taxi company to make arrangements for us to be picked up the next morning to go get our Avis (Ahh-vees) rental car. I had reserved the car at Leonardo da Vinci airport, to avoid having to drive in Rome, at Silvia’s advice. The taxi company wasn’t sure whether the Avis office was actually in the airport. Luckily once again Laura handled the phone hassles for us, in Italian. Afterwards we walked into the center of Trastevere for another great gelato. Laura had lived right there, in an apartment above the Pharmacy, after graduate school. They asked Andy about what he wanted to study in graduate school, told us about the old people in the neighborhood selling their houses at phenomenal prices to the foreigners and young families, and said goodnight.

It was hard to wave goodbye to our cute neighborhood. The taxi came on time, no traffic Sunday morning. But the older man driving was clueless about the Avis rental location at the airport. He was apologetic and responsible, and eventually got the right directions by asking other taxi drivers outside the airport. Turned out the car rentals are inside parking garage B at Fiumicino airport. The rental desks were all in one big room, adjacent to the garage and between terminals. J rushed off to use a rest room, far away. Finally she returned. After a long wait in line, she noticed our Avis Wizard priority check-in package labeled “Crawley” behind the desk. Check in only took 20 minutes instead of 30. Ok, got the car, got the keys. Barry now left to wend his way along the moving sidewalks into the airport, to discover the first restroom was closed, and finally found another one. Andy, quietly doing Sudokus on the bench, pointed out that we could have used a rest stop on the road. Turned out he was right, the road shortly ahead had a very nice restaurant and gas station, but who knew. We were off on a multihour drive through Tuscany, to the ferry for Elba.

Beautiful weather, no traffic, occasional views of the sea. Piece of cake, said Barry, glad to have avoided driving in Rome, enjoying the Tuscan highway. At Raffaele Matteoni’s recommendation, we stopped for lunch at Talamone, a harbor town with fabulous boats and an old fortress. Wandering around looking for parking in the packed lot and steeply winding streets was discouraging. Finally we drove back out to the side of the incoming road and walked back into town, amid wildflowers and green butterflies, admiring the yachts in the harbor. Delicious panini sandwiches at a luncheonette facing the water. Jacki’s was shrimp salad on brioche.

The Aethalia was a cute and efficient ferry Easy last leg into Piombino, an industrial port town. Passing up the Moby line offices, we reached our Torremar ferry dock two hours early. The time on the tickets previously purchased by mail (almost abandoned by the Bethesda Arlington Road post office) were for 5:30 PM. Asking around, Jacki and Andy learned that we could probably get on the 3:30 ferry if it was not full. Relaxed Italian seaman waved us aboard the Ferry Aethalia at 3:15. Park downstairs, walk up to comfortable seats, big windows, snack bar, bathrooms, outdoor decks. The view entering Portoferraio was spectacular. Pink walled forts and ancient mansions rising up from a rocky base. One was Napoleon’s exile estate. Not highly recommended; worth maybe half a day only in case of rain. Driving into the cute beach town, we wandered around the resort roads and found the route west. Spectacular views of pastel houses on the beach, romantic houses with red tiled roofs descending from the sides of the cliffs, greeted us at each hairpin turn in the road. Procchio and Marciana Marina were lovely towns for future visits. From there to Capo St. Andrea, the winding ups and downs became increasingly hard on the stomach. Glad it was still light out, thanks to our early ferry arrival.

Suddenly there it was, turn right and down the steep driveway, the Hotel Ilio. Several small well-kept buildings, each surrounded by flowering trees and singing birds, located high enough to see the sea from the terrace of every room. A nice young woman from Munich named Jacqueline checked us in and showed us our Blue Suite, two medium sized rooms with a mercifully clean bathroom. The well functioning hot shower was a great joy. Heavy wood slatted inner doors and glass outer doors provided choices of views and breezes. With the ceiling fan on, the rooms were not too hot, even without air conditioning. Dinners were at 8 PM in the communal dining room, where our room number marked our table for 3. Breakfasts were outside on the veranda of the main building, an easy place to meet other friendly tourists from Scotland and Sweden. The family adjoining our balcony was German, with a sweet young daughter and friendly dad. Everyone spoke English. A computer next to the office in the main building was available with a password, 5 Euros for several hours use, where Jacki answered email and caught up on Neuropeptides journal manuscripts, and Andy registered for fall classes at UCLA. The small beach was a short walk down the hill. Unfortunately, the promised snorkeling looked uninviting. Barry and Andy walked around the rocks to the next cove, really pretty. Photo ops at every turn in Elba.

The sports bar on the beach turned out to be the perfect spot for watching the next World Cup game. Italy beat Australia 1 to 0 that Sunday night June 26. We screamed and cheered with the rest of the multi-age, multinational crowds, standing around drinking beers, facing the wide screen TV. The sun set over the sea behind us. What an unexpected privilege to celebrate long sought soccer victories with the real people of Italy.

Dinners on Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday were excellent. The first started with B&J having fish while Andy had chicken, with more risotto than anyone could eat. The thick waitress asked us about red or white wine. Barry said red. She brought white. She asked us about water, con gas or no gas. We said no gas, she brought with gas. Dessert choices were cake and sorbet. Breakfasts offered coffee and cappuccino, cereal, breads, Nutella, slices of a sort of ham and eggs pie, fruit, and yogurt, open till 10 AM so we could sleep in. At breakfast you selected your dinner menu choices. Light Elba wines, home made breads, pate, fritters, fish, chicken, pastas. At the recommendation of Jacqueline and the manager Maurizzo, we drove to Fetovaia on Monday. Another gorgeous drive, going south along the western coast, down a winding road to the cove. Long beach with rock formations at each end, off-white sand, crowded with Italians. A parking lot space cost 10 Euro but boasted a pass for an umbrella and chairs on the beach. Actually it was just a minor discount on the exhorbitant rates of 16 Euro (over $20) for daily umbrella rentals. We spread our towel under a tree and watched the scene go by. The water was cool but fine after jumping in, calm, no waves. First B&A, then J&A, got very wet, and walked the length of the beach. Drove back along winding roads into a little town, Chiessi, with a fairly new church across from a not very good looking pizza luncheonette. Walking around, saw another pizza restaurant, closed, and a bakery, open. We sat outside and ate pastries and talked with Andy about graduate schools. Back to our rooms for showers and rest. This was the vacation part of the trip for Jacki. She moseyed down to the beach store and bought waters, Italian bath soap. Barry read Angels and Demons on the balcony.

Tuesday we backtracked northeast, driving more slowly, to Golfo di Biodola, another attractive beach cove. B dropped A&J off at the far end of the beach and parked way out on the main road, a 20 minute walk back. Again we parked our towels in a fairly shady spot, where B&A solved Sudoku puzzles. J&A walked across the rocks to see the larger adjacent beach. Crowds of happy Italian families, cute kids, sometimes naked, running in the water and building sand castles. The water was cool and easy for B to get in some good swimming. Luckily for J we found a restaurant with a bathroom. It turned out to have great pizza at its enclosed patio across the road. Our Margharita cheese pizza was excellent. Thin crust, light sauce and cheese topping, requiring considerable skill for us to cut or tear off pieces. Although Barry missed the Cape St. Andrea sign and we had to turn around after Zanca, we made it back a little after Andy’s priority enrollment appointment, 3:30 PM UCLA time. He got online in the lobby and signed up for Abnormal Psychology 127, no problem. But Behavioral Neuroscience 115 was for majors only. While Andy had satisfied the requirements for entering the major, the official paperwork had not gone through. So he sat on our balcony with his cell phone and called UCLA. After several tries with different international codes for the US, and a couple of complicated conversations with various UCLA bureaucrats, he got through to the Psychology office, was approved for the major, went back to the lobby, and successfully signed up for his second class. Our last fine dinner featured happy birthday singing to a happy young couple. The next morning we packed up the bathing suits, waved goodbye to the goldfinches and woodpecker, drove past the spectacular vistas, and back through Portoferraio to our ferry into Tuscany.

Just as advertised. Rolling hills, terraced farming, good roads, easy driving. Took the wrong exit into Pisa, wandered around the uninspired section of town, navigated toward the Arno River, found signs for the cathedral, then the right sign, showing the Tower symbol. Parked in front of the Anatomy and Surgery Building of the Pisa School of Medicine, and walked along historical buildings into the tourist streets. And there it was, Torre Pedente di Pisa, the famous icon, leaning to the right since 1173. Restoration was completed in 2000, keeping the angle from listing more acutely. Andy’s great eye for photography caught the classic optical illusion pose of each of us holding up the Tower. On the left, spreading down the green Campo dei Miracoli mall, were the Santa Maria Cathedral and San Giovanni Baptistry (dome), built of patterned horizontal stripes of grey marble and white stone that later became popular across Italy. In the far building we figured out the ticket system. Rather than wait 2 hours to join a required tour group up the Tower, we bought tickets only for the Santa Maria Cathedral. Bronze doors, stone carvings, free-standing pulpit structure in the center for delivering the sermon. After experiencing our first great Italian cathedral, we rehydrated and had bad thick crust pizza (foccacio?) in a luncheonette across the street. Movie posters of Roman Holiday and Bogart on the walls. J couldn’t handle the hole in the floor toilet and decided to save it for the Florence airport.

A few more wrong turns and confusing exits, getting out of Pisa. Lovely drive through Tuscan scenery, including sunflower fields and a Carrara (?) marble quarry cut into a hill. The toll booths talked to us and took credit cards. Leaving the main road into Florence to fill up the gas tank before returning the rental car, there was no way to return for miles towards Bologna. B stopped to get a map at a tourist information office in Prato, which we later found out was the hometown of our next door neighbor Annalisa Fedelino. Backtracking, we kept getting very close to the airport exit but missing the road in. B&J got testy: “Find it!" "Slow down so we can read the signs!" "I can’t slow down!” Finally, Amerigo Vespucci, Florence’s tiny airport. The car rental offices were shacks, just a hundred meter walk to the front door. Finally! Bathrooms, gift shop where Andy bought decks of Botticelli Birth of Venus and La Primavera cards. Quite a line waiting for taxis. An efficient young guy piled our luggage into his cab and drove us past the disappointingly 1960s section of Florence, into the classic old town center, and stopped at a hospital entrance, across from Tourist House Ghiberti, our bed and breakfast hotel at via M. Bufalini 1. Handsome old building with a brass address label and buzzer. Florence! Birthplace of the Renaissance.

Our email hosts Christelle and Claudio were not around. Diana, a young woman from the countryside, replied to our buzzer, met us in the dim stone entrance lobby, and loaded our bags into a small brass elevator. The guest rooms were up a flight of marble stairs. Diana checked us in at her long central desk, showed us the jacuzzi, breakfast room, patio, collection of DVD movies and books, and into our adjacent rooms. Large, comfortable, big windows overlooking the Santa Maria Nuova Hospital, free online computer in each room, designer bathroom fixtures, TV with lots of channels and DVD player, good air conditioning. We walked down the street to admire the outside of the Duomo, just around the corner. Diana’s suggested a restaurant down the street. It was full of Americans, very slow waiters, and the least appealing food we had in Italy. Dinner was forgettable. We played triple solitaire with our new artist cards back in the room. Very comfortable beds, quiet night’s sleep. Peaceful breakfast of good coffee, cereal with plums, berry pie, outside on the tiny patio.

The Wash and Dry was two blocks away, on Via dei Servi. B&J bundled up our laundry in the green Sierra Club dufflebag and bought gitoni laudry coins. Signs in English explained how to use the sturdy metal washers and dryers, insert soap. J bought a plastic carrying bag by accident under the wall mounted television showing MTV. After B walked back to the hotel, J reconnoitered down the street, finding the Piazza della Santissima Annunziata. Brunelleschi courtyard buildings, two Baroque bronze fountains of sea creatures, equestrian statue of Grand Duke Fernando I, with a brass inlay showing a pattern of bees swarming around a queen bee, added on the advice of his Medici patronesse. Not a shabby way to pass the time doing laundry.

The Duomo was magnificent. Brunelleschi built the largest freestanding Dome of any church, constructed between 1420 and 1436. Marble exterior of gray, dark green, and dark red bands. Huge spacious interior. Inlaid colored marble interior, lit through stained glass windows. The gigantic dome is at one end of the cross-shaped chapel. Huge Gates of Paradise doors carved by Ghiberti on the Baptisty next door. Underneath was a lower level, displaying archeological artifacts unearthed during the excavaction. We wandered through the creepy, dimly lit chambers. Several graves with horizontal flat stone monuments lined the floors. Small chapel areas were carved out and furnished for worship. Put a Euro into the audio machine, pick up the phone, and hear the history.

After the awe, A&B navigated us to Vivoli, Annalisa’s recommendation of the best ice cream in Florence. She was right. Old wooden tables, high ceiling, happy crowds. Walking back to toward our hotel, Andy and J wandered into a leather belt shop, Pelletteria Skendarberg on via Falco Portinari. An old leathery man, Mr. Bahri Hoxha, talked Andy through choices of belts, thick and thin, black or brown, buckle types. He spoke next to zero English, we had only a cheap pocket translator, so the decisions were made by body language, head nods, and head shakes. Andy communicated the need for taking off inches and cutting extra holes, and soon walked away with a Florentine souvenir. Some time resting and reading in our air conditioned hotel rooms revived us from the sunny 95^o+ temperatures outside.

Claudio had kindly reserved 3 tickets for us at the Uffizi at 4 PM. Walking over, we admired the ancient architecture and the Loggia dei Lanzi statues at Piazza della Signoria. There was Perseus holding Medusa’s head, Neptune, The Lion and Judith, and Hercules with the Centaur. An outdoor replica of the statue of David looked like the real thing and was easily accessible for photos and staring. Instead of waiting in a 20 minute line at door 1, we walked across the Piazzale degli Uffizi U-shaped courtyard to door number 3, showed the reservation printout, bought tickets, and breezed through door 1. The great art was upstairs, on Piano Secondo. Each room was numbered and named for the most famous artist represented in that room. Rooms 10-14 were Botticeli. There was the Birth of Venus, rising from the half-shell with flowing brown hair, Primavera with pregnant women and fruiting trees. Michaelango was represented by a single elegantly framed small painting in room 25. Jacki liked Mariotto Albertinelli’s Visitation, an older woman in gold and green telling a bright blue clad Mary about pregnancy. There were rooms of fabulous gold ceilings, more cherubs, madonnas, and crucifixions, and elaborate Renaissance paintings that I wish we knew more about. Terrific view of Ponte Vecchio from the windows at the end of the U. Statues and busts of famous Romans along the sides of the wide hall. Benches for sitting for a few minutes under the open windows with a view of the Tuscan hills. The Mind of Leonardo exhibit started with three famous paintings in room 15. Downstairs at the entrance to the displays was Da Vinci’s famous self-portrait of his aging face. Then room after room showing Leonardo Da Vinci’s grasp of geometric principles underlying everything from perspectives in painting to pendulum clocks to the geometry of seashells.

Saturated, we headed for dinner at Acqua Al 2, another of Annalisa’s recommendations. They were packed at 6 PM, so we made a reservation for the next night. Turning into Piazza Santa Croce, we found a nice pizza and pasta restaurant and recuperated. The solitary older woman at the next table spilled her wine on my black skirt and apologized profusely, but did not want to chat. We admired the painted walls on the apartment buildings across the square, and the church in the center. Looking up Santa Croce in our Fodor’s 2006 guidebook, yikes, this is the best church in Italy! Galileo and Michaelangelo are buried here! Ok, we’re coming back when it’s open for sure. Long stroll along the Arno River. Strange statue of a soldier pointing his musket. Science museum still open, but Barry declined. The evening was cooling down, so we kept walking, back along the river toward the famous bridge of protruding windows, the Ponte Vecchio. The shops were closed, boarded up with ingenious shutters and pull-down doors. Musicians were setting up on the bridge center, facing the Arno River. Tourists and Italian teenagers loitered. On the west side of town, the Piazza della Republica was alive with music and art. This was the happening part of Florence. A man was singing for the crowd, near smooth rounded stone sculptures by a Mexican artist. Barry took a picture of the moon under the archway. A young woman was copying famous paintings in chalk on the sidewalk. Charcoal portraits were in progress and hung for sale at small booths, including a clearly recognizable Jennifer Aniston. A block further on, we came upon a group of older men singing a capella outside. J liked the window shopping on the walk home, along the upscale stores of high fashion clothes. Temperatures had dropped, so it was comfortable to stroll with the crowds. That evening at the hotel we borrowed a classic movie, Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow.

Friday morning. Sleeping late, a little email catch-up in the room, good breakfast. Yet another SNAFU with changing money. Diana had recommended the bank down the street. When Barry and I tried to enter, an annoyed businessman told us this is not a bank but an office. Ah, on the other side of the street, the building that looked like a museum, that’s the bank. Huge, crowded, people sitting around on couches, chairs, stone benches. Take a number, wait an hour. Barry and Andy headed back to the hotel to chill. This time Jacki had her passport. This time the bank lady explained that banks no longer change money unless you have an account there, due to new terrorism rules. Whatever. Go to the moneychanging shops near the Duomo, she said, and provided the street names. Ok, so as we headed out later, following directions to the change place on Via dia Calzaiuloi. An older American woman was berating the girl behind the desk, telling her husband they will never come back there. I had asked about the exchange rate and it seemed reasonable, so I kept signing my traveller’s checks, for the cash that we would need to pay the rest of our hotel bill and through the end of the trip. The Euros handed over were way short of what Barry calculated should have been our total exchange. It turned out that this change place had a huge fee, costing us about $200, instead of the $100 or so that we would have had lost by paying our hotel bill with a credit card. Barry was furious. So in the end we contributed to the Italian economy. Live and learn.

Another pre-arranged 4 PM ticket purchase to avoid the line down the street of tourists in the hot sun, for a quicker entry into Galleria del’Academia. First were big blocks of stone that Michaelangelo began chipping away, Slaves fighting their way out of their marble prisons. Just ahead, under dramatic lighting, was Michaelangelo’s David, standing in all his glory for us to circle with the crowds. Barry surreptitiously snapped a really good photo (none allowed). David’s head and hands are a little too large for his body, serving to highlight the slingshot and stone he used to slay Goliath. A small exhibit of musical instruments included Stradivarius violins, beautiful cellos, strange stringed instruments, spinets and harpsichords. Too bad they wouldn’t let me take a photo of the cello display for Aunt Carol. Upstairs were prints, drawings, paintings with a lots of haloes, and illuminated manuscripts from the Middle Ages.

Dinner at Acqua Al 2, Via della Vigna Vecchi 40r, (around the corner from its former location at Acqua 2), was our best in Florence. Two fairly small rooms, closely packed tables, dense with sophisticated tourists and Italians. The chef was all set up for assaggio, small plate tastings of each course. Five kinds of salad, five kinds of pasta (one with a spectacular mushrooms sauce), five kinds of cheeses, sweets including mini canoli. Numaconi pasta was open at one end and closed at the other, trapping the sauce inside. Interesting breads, acqua minerale. Vino della casa was Columbaia – Chianti Polli Senesi, D.O.C.G. - This was a spectacular meal - the best of the trip!

Back to World Cup frenzy on the way home. Italy was playing Ukraine. Nearby, a crowd was seated in a V-shaped area outside a bar, but we couldn’t find a way in to stand in the back. Walking towards home, we found a perfect sports bar full of young Italians. Seats free at a table at front on the right were available with a 5 euro cover. Three beers kept us cheering with the crowd, as Italy beat Ukraine 3 to 0. The streets of Florence were filled with celebrating. One group of guys waved an Italian flag, bullfighter style, yelling Toro! across the narrow street as each car inched by. When people in the car cheered, the guys would shout Ole! and let the car pass. Contagious enthusiasm.

The last day in Florence, we really packed in the sightseeing. First stop, Santa Croce Basilica. Magnificent. There was Machiavelli’s tomb on one wall, near Dante. Michelangelo’s elaborately embellished stone sarcophagus was on the opposite side, next to Galileo himself, holding a small telescope. Many Medicis buried underfoot. Al Capone and a Statue of Liberty precursor. Giotto frescos on the walls. Out the side walkway is the Cloister, with multiple doors each leading into a small chapel or art exhibit: Sala de Cimabue, Vidrieras, Capilla Cerchi, Sala de las Sinopias, Sala de Tino di Camaino. First on the left was woodblock prints from the late 1800s. Then a long stone corridor of famous Florentines buried underground. A small high ceilinged chapel with partially removed frieze paintings was followed by an almost modern synagogue-looking low chapel with round topped stained glass windows. The gift shop had the best postcards, plus a side entry into the leathermaking school of Florence. Outside across the grass were more famous graves along the cloister walls, including Florence Nightingale. Being buried in Santa Croce must have been like getting a Nobel prize for the most illustrious heroes of Florence. The artists outside selling pastel drawings near the fountain didn’t hold a candle to the treasures inside the church.

Next stop, San Lorenzo market. We strolled along stalls selling Firenze shirts, leather jackets, gloves, handbags, prints , postcards, calendars, sunglasses, cotton clothes, shoes, and ceramic painted plates. First T-shirt store on the left, Jacki bought a red Ciao Bella top in Coca Cola-like lettering, Andy found a studly olive green Italian shirt. Sunglasses for both of us. White linen skirt for J, David statue calendar for Aunt Carol, drawing of Ponte Vecchio for Grandmom, postcard prints of Florence for future sending. Barry haggled a bit for a leather jacket but couldn’t get the craftsmen below $150. The Reading Terminal-like produce market was the big building behind the outdoor stands and small shops. San Lorenzo church, the original Cathedral of Florence dating from 393 and enlarged by Brunelleschi, was lined with symmetrical arches. Women who had not been expecting to enter a church wore blue paper shawls over their tank tops and shorts. Jacki came back to look at white blouses, but resisted, foolishly.

Trudging onward through hundred degree heat, hugging the shady side of the street, we inspected the more upscale versions in the Ponte Vecchio shops. Elaborate gold jewelry too big to wear. Soft, tight, expensive gloves. We kept moving to Palazzo Pitti, enlarged for the Medici family in 1550. Tickets came in two flavors, each offering entry to one half of the museums and gardens. Galleria del Costume was hot, reminding us that those poor rich Florentines stuffed into elegant layers even in the summer. Lots of high marble steps to get up and down. Museo delgi Argenti reminded us of Diana Wynne Jones’ evil Uncle Argent in the Nine Lives of Christopher Chant. Silver tea sets, mirrors, baroque table settings and elaborately carved heavy wooden furniture, plus a small display of modern Italian kitchen designware and jewelry in one darkened room. Giardino di Boboli started with a bench near a sumptuous fountain. Visitors appreciated a magical spray of water that showered us with coolness along the path. Symmetrical flower gardens, wide stone steps up to a Neptune fountain. J sat on the bench while B&A climbed the last flight for the best view of Firenze. We doubled back across Ponte Vecchio for the last time. Jacki broke down and bought leather gloves on the cheap at the Mercato Centrale. Then home for a little R&R. Andy and Jacki immersed in the jacuzzi, restoring those tired leg muscles.

For our last night in Firenze, we tried Annalisa’s last suggested restaurant, Cibreino, Via dei Macci 118r. It was near the Vivoli gelato place, close to Santa Croce and Piazza del Marcato Nuovo. Sort of hard to find, as it is supposed to be around the corner from its upscale sister, Cibreo, but the doors are not clearly marked. Turns out to be a small cute trattoria, maybe 10 tables in all. Well. If this is traditional Tuscan food, let’s rush back to Rome. Andy’s chicken dish came with the real head of a dead chicken. The rest of the platter is circles of unpleasant sausage or faux foie gras. Jacki’s stew is not much better. Barry’s shark is passable. At least the chocolate cake lives up to its billing. The DOCE Avignonesi 2003 Rosso di Toscano, Castel Greve Chianti wine was good. Later, on our porch in Chevy Chase in August, we tell Annalisa and Thanos about our adventures. Thanos is appalled by the chicken head, but Annalisa nods, rolls her eyes, and confirms the authenticity. One more video that night, The Manchurian Candidate with Meryl Streep.

Sunday morning. B&J had calculated the bill with our host, Claudio, who replaced Diana for the weekend. Claudio and Crystelle had a new baby, thus their absence most of the time, and the crying emanating from down the hall occasionally. Claudio was extremely thorough at calculating all of the exchange rates and credit card costs and discounts for paying cash. We left a tip for Diana and a bottle of wine for the housekeepers. Claudio called a taxi for us, and we headed off to Santa Maria Novella train station.

Trenitalia had a long line at the ticket counter and only one self-service machine working. By our turn, the next Eurostar train to Rome had only a few first class tickets left. So we traveled in style, for 42.35 euros x 3 tickets, on the 11:29 AM to Roma Termini. Not fancy, but comfortable seats and big windows. Lovely views all the way. Long walk from the train to the station in Rome. Quite a scam for a taxi outside. Handsome dudes asked us where we wanted to go and offered exhorbitant rates for short rides. We waited for a regular taxi, at the somewhat reasonable price of 15 euros, rather than 40, to our hotel, the Best Western Globus about a mile away at the University of Rome. Part of the problem was an impending taxi strike. Their complaint was a large number of new taxi licenses being distributed, meaning more competition. The Globus was nice, plain but pleasant, as Laura Ricceri had mentioned when reserving the rooms for speakers at her meeting. We had two rooms next door in a quiet hall near the service elevator. There was an old slow computer in the lobby, 5 euros for 30 minutes, wait your turn after the boys finish playing computer games. A small bar and snacks and a TV off the lobby. We unpacked a bit, went back down to the front desk, got directions to take the Metro downtown, tore off a street map from the tablet at the front door, and bounded off for more Rome.

Skeletons of Cappuccini Monks adorned the walls and ceilings of Santa Maria della Concezione

We’re on a Quest for Fire. Our Policlinico Metro entrance was about 4 blocks away. Andy was again a reliable navigator, easy going and self-confident. Lovely walk through a quiet, older residential neighborhood of pastel apartment buildings, similar to the Phillips Gallery area in Washington. Buying tickets was not trivial. We slowly figured out the Italian messages on the machines, got advice from the nice guards on which platform and how to insert our tickets to get through the stiles, and melted into the crowds of regular Romans riding the subway. Easy to change trains at the Termini train station and exit at Repubblica. Our mission was to find the Santa Maria della Vittoria Church, scene of Fire in Angels and Demons. We followed Dan Brown’s directions perfectly, but he was wrong. The name of the church on Via Veneto near Piazza Barberini was Santa Maria della Concezione. A tour bus and students waiting in line enticed us into the lower entrance. Wow! We had just happened upon the weirdest sight in Rome, The Crypt of the Cappuccini Monks. A prim middle aged lady at the table near the door took our donation and repeated “no pictures” endlessly. But how could we resist? Dense piles and mounds of bone decorated each alcove. Leg bones lined the walls. Child skeletons stretched across the ceilings. Apparently these were the collected bones of 4000 monks. Whatever were they thinking? Shaken, we stumbled out into the sunshine. Andy suggested the pizza place next door. Down winding stone stairs to a cool underground room, we enjoyed pizza with wedges of different toppings, and, tortillini con crema. Good choice, Andy.

Along the streets past the Lamborghini showroom, we saw a young man playing Fur Elise with wine glasses, and Bartolucci’s woodcarving shop, where a lifesize Pinocchio sat on a bench and a wooden motorcycle looked ready to roll. And there’s the Pantheon! Most ancient church in Rome, stone pillars and pagan statues, later removed by Catholic Popes for replacement with statues of saints. Painted ceilings and marble floors. We walked back to the subway at the Spanish Steps. Big crowds. Two kids, a boy and a girl about 7 and 9, were pushing onto the train with us. Just as the doors were closing, they jumped back onto the platform. Barry is sure they were pickpockets. He felt them reaching for his pockets. They were out of luck. Barry, my friggin' genius, had earlier bought safety pins at Strohsnider’s, and was using them to pin the inside of his wallet pocket shut. That precaution was in addition to our money belts that fit around our underwear, for cash, traveler’s checks, passports, ID cards, credit cards, etc. as needed during the trip. No losses throughout, except for the highway robbery by money changers at the Duomo.

Sunday night looked pretty empty in the university neighborhood, with no students during the summer. The earnest Globus front desk clerk had minimal restaurant suggestions. We strolled the streets and found only one real choice, The Sahara, an Eritrean restaurant. Andy hadn’t had much dinner the night before, and ready for a full meal. While Ethopia and Eritrea have been battling for years, their cultures are similar. The outdoor terrace was breezy and lit with red lanterns. The young waitress was classically beautiful, small and thin with aquiline feature. The food was delicious. Injera, circular thin crepe-like bread, was both the plate and the dipping wrap. Mounds of spiced vegetables with chickpeas, lentil mixture, chicken, and good beers made a filling and entertaining dinner. The ice cream cake dessert was pretty good, although prepacked in a round dish and frozen solid. The whole bill was only 40 euros. Back at the hotel, Jacki stayed up to use the computer to rearrange the slides for her talk tomorrow, but after a long wait, the old computer in the lobby couldn’t read Powerpoint. B&A did some Sudokus and slept well.

Breakfast was on an upper floor, a big buffet in a pleasant open room with a terrace and view of the area. J ate early and met Maria Luisa Scattoni in the lobby for the workshop on Monday and Tuesday. Laura Ricceri had organized talks by scientists at her Istituto Superiori Sanita and their collaborators, mostly people on their NIH-Italy collaborative grant, originally initiated by her lab chief, Enrico Alleva. Jacki’s collaboration with Laura, Igor, and Enrico, and this workshop, were the original impetus for our trip to Italy. Because of complex NIH regulations about no vacation days adjacent to foreign conference travel, we made it a regular family vacation, no travel reimbursement for the visits to either Institute in Rome. Maria Luisa (Malu) had just completed her Ph.D. with Gemma Calamandrei, Laura, and Enrico, and was spending 6 months in Jacki’s lab in Bethesda, working on ultrasonic vocalizations in vasopressin 1B mouse pups. Malu was a welcoming friend, fun to talk with on the short walk to the conference auditorium. It was an attractive but spare room, no air conditioning, but well-equipped for the talks. Seymour (Gig) Levine, Steve Suomi, and Jacki represented the U.S. Enrico and his Institute Director (Giuliano d’Agnolo) introduced the meeting. Jacki’s lecture was about modeling the symptoms of autism in mice. Laura and Igor and Anna Moles talked about early developmental behaviors in mice, Giovanni Laviola and his Russian collaborator, Oleg Granstrem, talked about autoimmune responses. Sylvia and Elisabeth and Paulina attended. Lots of interesting conversations over the refreshments table outside, which served good coffee and cookies, and lunch of mozzarella, tomatoes, prosciutto, salad, breads. There was time at the end of the day for Jacki to tour the labs. Laura and Igor and Gionni Laviola and their colleagues have an animal room and mouse test rooms with a water maze and vocalization chambers, up on a separate floor from their small but stylish offices. Laura let Jacki use her student’s computer to check email and print out a description of Santa Maria della Vittoria. It turned out to be one of two churches on Via XX Settembre. Old Dan Brown really got it wrong.

Barry and Andy became expert at using the subway. They spent that Monday seeing the Palantine Hill and the inside of the Coliseum. They took lots of photos to show J later. A guy asked them to take his picture in front of the Coliseum while he held the Mexican flag. They toured Palantine Hill, wandering the foundations of 3000 year old huts, Julius Caesar’s Senate Forum, and the ancient Concert Hall. The Palantine Museum displayed Pre-Roman pottery shards and busts. Fantastic views of Rome.

After the workshop, Jacki walked with Laura past her motorcycle to meet Barry and Andy at the Globus hotel. Enrico Alleva invited all of the conference guests to his apartment, a short walk away, in a townhouse building with an elegant old elevator. Great buffet dinner of a lasagna-like dish with white sauce and a terrific chicken salad. His lovely wife is a pediatric oncologist who told us about her successes in using umbilical cord stem cells to treat leukemia in children with dramatic success. Enrico regaled us with stories of his close relationship with Rita Levi-Montalcini, including her calling him at all hours to agonize over the title of her book, before deciding on In Search of Imperfection. Andy told Steve Suomi about his summer research with David Goldman, who collaborates closely with Steve on characterizing genes in monkeys with behavioral differences in their dominance hierarchy and in alcohol consumption. The younger women students hung out together. Not a late evening, as Gig Levine and his wife were tired. We three found our way back to the hotel.

Tuesday was another indulgent breakfast and the second half of the conference for Jacki. She took a different route and ended up on Via Regina Elena, looking for #299. A guard gave directions in Italian that somehow made sense. Going in through the formal front door of 299 into the elegant lobby, J looked a little lost. Another nice guard walked her through to the back entrance, oh yes, the Aula Bovet conference room, let me show you. Interesting talks on nerve growth factor that morning. Seeing the primate colony after lunch. Meeting with the NIH-Italy collaborators in Enrico’s big office to discuss extending their grant, offering suggestions for other NIH grant mechanisms that Laura, Enrico et al. might apply for. Goodbye, goodbye, thanks for taking such good care of us, Laura.

Back to Globus after 3 PM Tuesday July 4^th for our last sightseeing in Rome. Barry and Andy were resting up after their day downtown. On Tuesday morning they saw lots of churches, especially the several at Piazza Popolo. They went inside Earth, Santa Maria del Popolo, scene of the first cardinal’s untimely burial in Angels and Demons. When J got back to the hotel room, B&A were just unwinding. We took off again at 4 PM. Back to the same Barbarini subway stop, after more long lines to buy farecards at the minimal working machines. Andy navigated us to Via XX Settembre, and there it was, three baroque churches in a row, with Santa Maria della Vittoria just as described. Inside: Bernini’s The Ecstasy of Santa Theresa, angel spearing the swooning maidens, the hanging wires, alcove with the sargophagus that fell on Robert Langdon. All right!

We waved to Castel St. Angelo, where Victoria was held captive, and headed west to St. Peter’s Square for our last great basilica of Italy. Protruding from the second floor was the Papal Balcony, the model for Mimo Costa’s Fidia building office at Georgetown. By now we understood why Andy had looked at the Obelisk up close last week. B&J joined in this time. Spaced around the circumference of stones paving the obelisk was a set of Cherubs blowing wind from their chubby cheeks, one for each direction – east, northeast, north northeast, west northwest , etc. Which one was Dan Brown’s? J began to suspect that he never visited Rome at all, so many mistakes in landmarks. We ascended the ancient steps, noted the Swiss guards in their blue and yellow striped costumes, figured out that the line at the right went down to the Popes’ tombs, backtracked left, and entered the most famous Catholic church in the world. Michaelangelo’s Pieta, right there on the right. Fabulous art, painted dome and ceilings, gold, marble, pulpit carved in elaborate wood, Tabernacle, St. Peter’s carved throne. People touching and kissing the left foot of Saint Pietro’s statue. The central floor displayed plaques for cathedrals of various countries, by size. Washington’s National Cathedral was at the beginning, one of the smallest. So many alcoves and wings, we lost each other for a while. Andy was up for seeing the museum of chalices, but Barry was getting tired.

We were such good tourists, we had time for one more museum, and found the Palazzo Altemps of the Museo Nazionale Romano, full of Etruscan, Greek, and early Roman archeological treasures in small rooms on the second floor, overlooking a central courtyard. Julius Caesar, Athena, Aphrodite, Ludovisi’s Throne depicting the birth of Venus, a tall stone sarcophagus depicting the Romans fighting the Ostrogoths. As usual, we listened in on a guide’s discourse to her tour group. We took comic photos through an oval window in the staircase, retrieved our bags from the locker, and headed out.

Tonight was the World Cup Semi-Finals, Italy against its arch rival, Germany. B&A had reserved a table at a restaurant called Gina, which promised to stay open till 6:30, but after finally finding it, the waitress made it clear that they were absolutely closed on account of the game. J&A had a little mediocre pizza/foccacio at a street stand. Colleagues at the conference had told me that Piazza del Popolo would have a big screen set up outside. So we figured that would be a good area for dinner. Winding our way over to Popolo, which B&A had already scoped out, led to a lot of dead end streets with closed or very expensive restaurants. Braving the motorcycles zipping by, we found an open restaurant next to the twin sister churches of Popolo. Only two waiters, only seats near the hedge full of biting bugs and traffic, but we thought ourselves lucky when the menu looked good. Gazing over at the trompe d’oeil covering over the pyramid being cleaned, Jacki began reading the section of Angels and Demons about Piazza del Popolo. There in the same paragraph was the name of our restaurant, Rosati! Good breadsticks were squirreled away in our black nylon Howard Hughes bag for tomorrow’s travels home. The best oligominerali still water, Primavera di Popoli from San Benedeto. Our harried but friendly waiter told us that there was no screen set up for the game, we should try Piazza Venezia. Long walk, no screen. It was game time. We went into a gelato café with a widescreen TV in the back. Carbinieri were all over the streets, maybe for crowd control, maybe to watch the game. There were no seats, but plenty of room to stand at the counter near the back, so ordered gelato and beers. The confused (retarded?) waiter refused to give us our

glass cups of gelato, insisting that we had to sit outside, but the manager straightened it out. Intense concentration from the 30 or so fans crowded around the TV. Scoreless game, overtimes, and then a goal by Italy! And another! Score 2:0! The fans went wild. Rome erupted in blaring car horns, flags waving out of sunroofs, vrooming motorcycles, crowds of students wrapped up in big flags singing Forza Italia. We stood on the circle with the Hotel Bernini sign lighting the backdrop, screaming our throats hoarse. And continued to cheer with the crowds all the way back to the east side of town, walking at least two miles because the subway was closed by then, 11:30 PM. Oneness with the great championship joy of Italy was the highlight of our trip. Who said Italy did not celebrate July 4^th?

Walking home from the semi-final with Germany - everyone in Rome was in the streets honking, waving, and hugging - The Hotel Bernini seemed iconic of Rome to us

Tired feet and reluctance as we packed our bags for our 1 PM Alitalia flight from Leonardo da Vinci airport on Wednesday July 5^th. Early that morning, the taxi strike ensued. Time was passing, and the driver arranged by the Hotel Globus the night before was not reachable. Luckily, Laura had offered us a ride, wisely anticipating this eventuality. Andy again text-messaged Laura, she replied immediately, and was able to borrow a van from a colleague. Malu and Laura drove us to the nearby train station, helped us with the tricks of buying duty-free tickets to the airport, and we got there with time to spare. No problem with check-in, comfortable seats, lots of zzzzs, all the way to Boston. At Logan, we had to wait a long time for our bags, take them through Customs, drop them back off at an Alitalia desk, and RUN all the way across terminals to just make our US Air flight. Inconveniences brought to you by the failed foreign policies of the Bush Administration. At DCA, no bags. Barry filed a report for US Air to deliver our luggage, which arrived the next day. We got into a taxi, and through the miracle of air travel, pulled up to our own Stratford Road a little after 10 PM Wednesday July 5^th. There was the mail in a bin on the porch, held by the post office all week. No water damage from the torrential rains earlier that week. Barry’s tomato plants had flourished. Our big, clean, quiet house, convenient kitchen, comfortable beds, and speaking English seemed like a luxury to tired muscles and overstimulated senses. We collapsed into rest and future reminiscing over the 400+ photos of Andy Barry and Jacki’s Excellent Italian Adventure.

P.S. A few days after returning to D.C., Jacki and Barry went to the Irish Bar, RiRa, in Bethesda to watch the final game of the World Cup. Italy beat France 5-3 after the French star, Zidane, was kicked out for a head butt. Bravo Italia!