ABSTRACT
The boarding convent where Grandpa sent me next year was in Rome, in a modern palazzina in the west-end district of Monte Verde. At the nearby bus stop, the ivy-covered garden walls of the surrounding residential area intersected with the seedy inns of a nearby suburban ghetto, the Borgata del Trullo. A gated garden surrounded our building. The rooms were neat, with large windows and modern beds and desks. The hallway teemed with life, and a sense of community prevailed. We shared household chores and took buses to our respective public schools every day. The nuns cooked and supervised our work. Their light gray smocks tucked in at the waist did not quite hide their bodies curves, and their black caps left out the ends of their short hair. They were full of fun and zest, and did their work with a sense of humor.
