Trevi Fountain

Walking through Rome, sounds can be a pretty predicable thing: cars honking, people chatting, the wind through the buildings, until, suddenly, sounds of a rushing waterfall?

Yes indeed, the infamous Trevi Fountain. You hear it before you see it and the intriguing sound draws you in till suddenly you’re in a medium piazza with a large fountain, one of the most famous fountains in the world for that matter. Unfortunately, the sounds that brought you here, aided by guidebooks, tour guides, and buses, also brings hundreds of others every single day to this little spot, turning a visit into a nightmare of navigating the crowds and vendors to a suitable spot to take it all in.

The fountain itself is absolutely amazing, to put it lightly. The first time I saw it I couldn’t speak for a moment as my mouth hung open in awe. The smooth white carvings of the massive stone gods give way as crystalline water flows through the course rocks to the sparkling blue waves below. It commands the piazza and from the side Neptune seems to hold up his hand to order his audience into silence.

But no one is listening. They are too busy yelling, stick fighting, staring at their gelato (never buy anything in the piazza while you’re here, about a block away is the best gelato I’ve ever had in Rome, so hold off temptation for this Italian obsession until you’re ready to leave), doing anything and everything except looking at the fountain. Even the people taking pictures do it only as something to cross off their list. For an instant they are as motionless as a statue, but if they just turned around and looked, they would see how true art really moves with such a still force that it is impossible to be captured with a camera. The horses charge toward the crowd and the Tritons strain to hold them still as hundreds of people sit along the cold white seats unaware of the force in front of them. It’s a madhouse of tourism, children climbing on the rocks, police whistles pierce the air, an annoying scent of tobacco everywhere, I’m constantly getting elbowed by someone and am chased out of the center by all the noise, though the second I move an inch, I’m in the way of someone’s picture. A rare few sit and soak in the artwork, and I instantly love them.

Just sit and look at something, just his leg, the musculature, the size, it’s beautiful. The more you look, the more it reveals to you. The coral on the sides, the roughness of the stone, you want to play with it, explore it, this place does not exist for visitors, but for lovers who can’t get close enough. Night falls and light dances off the caves of stone as a warm breeze drifts past. Time doesn’t deter visitors so it is best to find a seat on the side where it’s calm and lose yourself in Nicola Salvi’s masterpiece for a while before heading back into the chaos of the Roman streets.