After three hard days, Thursday was intentionally slower. Everyone slept in, returned to the breakfast spot for cappuccinos and pistachio croissants, and then took a cab to Trastevere.

Giuseppe, the guide, had immediate character: about thirty-five, two linguistics degrees, a Sisters of Mercy T-shirt, and the energy of someone who could talk food, language, and punk records with equal conviction. The tour was excellent from the first stop: burrata, tomatoes, bread, olive oil, wine, then Spirito DiVino with its excavated basement and slow-roasted pork, supplì, local Peroni, porchetta-style pork on focaccia, Peppo al Cosimato, pasta, pizza, and finally Fatamorgana gelato.

This was the day Rome felt easiest. Trastevere had the neighborhood feel the group wanted, and by the end the future-trip lesson was clear: come back in the fall, and strongly consider staying near Trastevere or the Jewish Ghetto. Dinner returned to Bottega Tredici, which only strengthened its claim as the favorite restaurant of the trip.