Italy Diaries: Roman roaming

The best way to see the Trevi Fountain, shopping in ruins, and the Big Boy

I hurry up the stairs, stride over to the window, and shove aside a rack of clothes. There it is. The best view of the Trevi Fountain available, at least to those who aren’t disgustingly lucky enough to live in an apartment on the Piazza. I’m above the crowds, I’m hidden from the tours. I’m away from the touts. I’m in a United Colors of Benetton.

There’s hustle and bustle behind me and once I take my picture I step out of the way. More tourists swarm the window. There’s not a lot of shopping taking place this afternoon.

I could tell you that this spot is top secret, exclusive. That this spot is only known to me and now you, dear reader and subscriber, that you’re welcome for the tip.

But that’s not true. The hustle and bustle betray me. I only know about this spot because I’m on one of those tours I was so keen to hide from.

I’m on a tour that’s also a workout. The guide is a local named Blue who talks slowly but walks like someone is chasing her. I spend the afternoon running after her, pushing through other tours and pissing off locals, who I start to think aren’t so lucky to live near the Trevi after all. My feet throb and my stomach churns. Pizza and pasta threaten to make a reappearance.

Blue has jogged into the Piazza di Trevi, given an impromptu history lesson, and then swiftly ushered us into the second floor of United Colors of Benetton, where we can actually see the monument.

From up above I can see the chaos that is the Trevi Fountain and its Piazza. Coins fly over tourists’ heads as they make their wish to return to Rome. No need to bother saving up, booking flights, lugging backpacks, throw a coin in the Fountain and you will return to the Eternal City, according to the tradition.

The Fountain can also help you rid yourself of your travelling companion, should you be sick of them. Two coins flipped into it and you’ll meet an attractive Italian. Three coins and you’ll marry them. Don’t worry about the bureaucracy, just keep flipping those euros over your head.

It’s called Trevi because it was once the meeting point of Tre Vie, three ways. Now six roads or alleys lead off the Piazza, and each is filled with tourists grasping gelato and selfie sticks. Often they’re lead by a tour guide, Roman or not, holding an umbrella, used as a guide rather than a shelter, for the weather is hot this October.

Blue leads us out of the sweaty Piazza, there’s another shopping destination on the agenda. We hurry down side streets, struggling to keep up. This is Blue’s city, and she weaves in and out of gaps only she can see. The young and the able usually catch up with her at each stop when she’s halfway through her speech. Pickpockets aren’t a risk on this tour, they can’t catch up.  

She turns abruptly and into a building we go. The Rinascente department store. Really? Does Blue get commission from all these retail conglomerates? We’re spending more time in places with cash registers than we are with Roman ruins. But this has both. Down on the bottom floor, a whole wall of the shop is an old Roman aqueduct. Blue does her spiel while different sections of the wall light up in order of their age. Bemused locals browse the adjacent goods. Aqueducts are old news.

We’re onto one of the last stops. Follow me, Blue says, to the Big Boy. She really does say this in italics. We arrive at the Pantheon. It is a big boy, its dome was the largest of its kind when it was built, though that was around 126AD.

Now you can see mass there, if you’re Catholic or curious, or spot the graves of famous Italians. There’s Vittorio Emanuele II, the first King of a unified Italy, or his daughter-in-law, Queen Margherita of pizza fame.

The Pantheon is old and, as Blue says, big, it isn’t going anywhere. But we tick it off in typically quick fashion. One quick loop, a look up at and through its world-famous hole, and we’re out again. Blue eventually drops us off, calves screaming, near the Piazza Navona.

A return to the Trevi Fountain is necessary. I want to drop a coin into it and wish for a return. I need to see Rome’s monuments when they aren’t whizzing past me, when my legs aren’t tingling.

I need to see them when there isn’t pizza and pasta threatening to somersault out of me like a euro into the Fountain.

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You should read…

The Matterhorn: intersections of literature & art

written by

Dr. Kathleen Waller

. Always interesting, always informing, I’m a big fan of The Matterhorn. Fans of Not That You Asked will like her post about the city that I’ve linked below. Check it out.

10. The City as Text

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Some housekeeping

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