Oh, to be lazy, sleeping in a lofted bed in the chic Trastavere section of Rome! Miriam had put yogurt and berries in the tiny fridge for me, so I didn't have to go out for breakfast. Church bells were calling believers to Mass as I stripped the sheets off of the bed. Excellent, modern bathroom with plenty of hot water and special shampoo made me sad to leave Rome, but to be honest I was beginning to be really excited about returning to Paris.
I had several hours before I'd head to the taxi stand and I needed to walk a lot since I'd be sitting in the Roma airport for a few hours, flying for an hour and a half, then commuting to Montparnasse. On an old map I saw the Fonte Acqua Paola, and started walking up the winding streets toward the large green spaces on top of the hill.
The rain started in about 30 minutes, and again, I bemoaned the loss of my phone and raincoat. It was a light, cool rain so I was happy to get wet. What on a map appeared to be a twenty minute stroll turned into a major workout. Instead of hiking up to the Via Garibaldi, which looked like a main boulevard, I chose the smaller, side streets. I saw Santa Maria Trastavere from behind and knew I was heading in the wrong direction. Staircase after staircase! Up via d. Paglia and via Biondi, up a private lane (oops) next to the Spanish embassy.
The guard detail didn't speak Italian or English, and had their hands on the trigger the whole time they walked me off the property. Their camo jumpsuits had water beading down them and their helmets had some fake plants sprouting from the top. This was so funny looking I forgot to be scared. They didn't need anything to hide them in the bushes; their pop-up tent was red and yellow, visible from a distance, just not in my path of vision from the staircase below.
At the end of the lane, I found a six-street exchange. Really? I had to walk a long circle around the plaza to find the right street. And the fountain in the middle of this was dry.
The possibility I had been on a wild (dry) goose chase would have been funny, but I'd made it all the way up 118 stairs of the Via Glorioso hoping to find the fountain, only to start limping! My knees...
Maybe the Spaniards had given me the curse of Juan Ponce de Leon and I would never find the fountain of youth. A bar man unlocked his gates (at 10:00 a.m. Sunday?!) sold me a bottle of water and I kept walking.
I found more embassies, and an American school. Finally, the actual fountain! It's a beauty. An entire soccer team was taking pictures in front of it. I think they'd just won a game as they were biting their medals, reminding me that the Olympics would be starting soon.
From this fountain, I found the via Garibaldi and decided the sidewalk would protect me from the speeding cars. I took one last staircase down to the lane, and wished I'd had a way to carbon date the cobblestones. My knees were hurting, so I gingerly stepped over these and hoped my ankles would stay put.
At last! The gate in Trastavere that is near my apartment. Time to find a taxi.
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