What I loved so much about the fountains of Rome was how much of a symbol they were for the city.
They showed the aliveness of the place. This life-force that makes up nearly 3/4 of our bodies is literally gushing from the underbelly of Rome. In all its splendor and grandiosity Rome is an old, old, old place…but the vivacious fountains-its eternal springs-will always keep the city alive.
If you are able to closely at each fountain, certain personalities and characteristics begin to make themselves clearer. I spent my trip chronicling their uniqueness in my mind and returned home with fond memories of each.
There was the small fountain just around the corner from my apartment that almost looked like it was hiding in a corner against an old stone wall. The only way you could tell it was there was when you got close enough to see the grates where the water drained and heard the sound of it running continuously night and day.
There was the one in the Piazza del Fiori that became monopolized by the market vendors’ in the daytime but stood solo at night.
There was the huge fountain in another piazza that drew crowds to its big, white, marble statues and design. People huddled around it and dipped their hands inside the clear, blue pools, while artists sat nearby drawing and selling, drawing and selling.
And one on a steep side street that shot off from the Spanish Steps-unexpected but glistening and spouting an endless stream of water at all times.