I'm thrilled to report that we are happily ensconced atop the Janiculum Hill behind the Aurelian walls and enjoying the fresh breezes, green space, extra square footage, shared terrace and, perhaps more importantly (now that I'm no longer 25 and have two small children in tow), a second bathroom at our new apartment at the American Academy. Two months in a small Trastevere apartment in 90+ degree heat was more than enough for an intensive introduction to Italian urban life. We certainly enjoyed having everything within walking distance, but I was starting to think that at least the last dozen or so of the famed layers that make up the Eternal City are composed soley of gelato spoons, cigarette butts, empty wine boxes and dog excrement.

Alas, our fortunes have changed for the better. According to our housing contract, we have been officially designated as "Visiting Artists and Scholars" which means we have 4th dibs on tickets for any AAR-organized tours or events, but presumably the same priority as everyone else when the freshly baked cornetti come out of the Academy ovens. The illustrous fellows (those with higher priority) start moving in this weekend so we have a few days to ourselves in the family housing building, poetically named "5B". We just hope we can get the kids to stop screaming while jumping on their beds by then so that we aren't asked to vacate. If pressed, I am prepared to assert that jumping from beds while screaming is their preferred art form and that their seemingly chaotic outbursts are actually an elaborate, pre-structuralist reenactment of the Roman incursion of the Visigoths under Alaric the First. Or, to put it in terms more easily understood here at the Academy, "It (the kids' screaming/jumping on installations more commonly used for nocturnal repose) also illustrates the contingency of construals of particular situations/events/persons. This arises from different framings tied to different-use contexts, but that diversity can then be harnessed rhetorically to negotiate agents' desired outcomes." (This text was copied directly from a fellow's project summary on the website -- I have absolutely no idea what it means, but am hopeful that I can repeat it with confidence if/when the time arises to keep us in fresh linens.)

Here's a photo of the kids settling in and deciding where to post a photo of Jim, our beloved tabby cat back in Napa.

I took the next shot a few hours ago on the communal terrace where we dined on take-away pizza and enjoyed a view of the city below.

We're planning to spend the next few days locating the nearest markets, getting acquainted with the resident feline population and learning the new bus routes. Giulia continues to love drawing the Roman skyline, Giorgio seems most content when building trattorias and ancient monuments out of Legos and Gio is chomping at the bit to get into the Academy kitchen next week. In the meantime we all continue to benefit from his culinary artistry.

School starts for the kids in two days and we're all looking forward to starting a more regular routine.

Ferragosto

We're back in Rome after a two week trip to la campagna and I admit I was savoring the lack of traffic congestion and clean air afforded by the small towns of Puglia, Molise and Umbria. Happily, we were greeted by a very pleasant surprise in that the city has disgorged itself of at least half its residents -- all of whom are doubtless smoking on one of the many crowded beaches or looking for a parking place nearby -- and the temperature has dipped below 90 degrees. It's actually perfect except for the fact that our corner store and some of our favorite cheese shops, enotecas and pizzerias are closed until September when we move to our more permanent digs at the American Academy.

The kids continue to keep us on our toes and have made the very important discovery that the color of the gelato is not a good indicator of yummyness. Clearly another developmental milestone.

We started our country foray catching up with Giovanni's relatives in Carlantino, the Pugliese hill town where his parents grew up, and were able to partake in the fest of San Donato - the local patron saint. The celebration was officially kicked off by a traditional procession with decorative icons held aloft, brass band, dignatories, priests, nuns, countless dour old ladies in black walking arm in arm, and led by a small child holding a crucifix twice his size. It definitely felt like being on the set of a Fellini film. Afterward, the festivities continued with more food, fireworks, street vendors and, oddly enough, a Pink Floyd cover band. While admittedly incongruent, I presumed the latter was previously vetted by an obscure Vatican council that specializes in such matters.

We spent the remainder of our stay partaking in the hospitality of many families, overeating, meeting up with more cousins, walking the main street between meals, and (at least in my case) trying to understand the local dialect. I am now entertaining creating a board game based on our experience. The goal is to get through town in five days without gaining weight or offending anyone. Clearly it's a matter of succeeding in one respect or the other as refusing a course at someone's table is not condoned. This go round I'm certain we managed to fail on both counts.

Oh yes, and lest I forget, we spent a very memorable final evening at a farm where watermelon was served for desert after being ceremoniously cut by a chainsaw. Clearly not the kind of thing you will see anytime soon in Gourmet or Sunset magazines as part of "An Authentic Italian Picnic" spread.

Our next out-of-town outing will be to Viterbo for a few days and the country home of Renato and Christina, good friends of ours from years ago, and their two boys. I met Renato one summer while traveling through Italy working as a volunteer and he still runs "Brancaleone", the alternative social center that started as a communist-run squatter collective in an abandoned school -- and which I helped build the patio and garden area for with a dozen other well-meaning stranieri. The Italian government continues to leave them alone because they've improved the neighborhood by reclaiming a derelict building and, more importantly, pay the utility bills on time (and most likley turn down the screaming techno pop after 11 pm on weekdays). He's a club producer and a farmer/beekeeper and says their rural retreat has Etruscan ruins nearby as well as cats, turkeys, chickens and dogs so it promises to be a kid-pleaser.