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very, very slowly over many years. It took me a long time to get accustomed to New York, the U.S., and so on and so on.

What passport all those years were you holding, an Italian passport?

An American.

Always?

Yes. There is a funny little detail that would nag me. Thank God! I was registered in the Consulate in Naples and not in the Italian because, by Italian law, I would then have had Italian nationality and would have been called up to serve in the Italian army in World War II, which would not have been great fun being on the Russian front for three years. I was registered there, however there was a complication and that is that the Consulate then burned down. Apparently, my parents then had great trouble in reconstructing an appropriate birth certificate for myself, but I finally do have one. But even in 1940, when I was abroad, I would say to the home office, “Don't send me anywhere near Italy, please,” because, if I'd gotten into Italy and they'd found out I was born in Naples, I probably would have been drafted.

Did you live in a hotel in Paris?

No. We finally made it. [laughter] In Paris, my mother