Una Storia di Villa Pamphilli Park

We are explorers of the world. Out on a journey of discovery.

Provisions: Lanterns, water, sketchbook, and the ever-present 

                      digital camera/camcorder.

Destination: Adventure.

The park is situated just a couple of miles away. Across the Tiber, through Trastevere, and on top of the 8th hill of Rome. It's quite peaceful up there. The grass is quite dry for lack of rain but the more desertic plants are thriving and keeping it overall, green. Situated at regular intervals along the trail are life-size sculptures of various dignitaries and nobles from yesteryear, though most of them have already been decapitated. Coming upon the grand palazzo, with its piazza of elegantly cut maze hedges, we take a different turn, towards a large fountain which greatly resembles a giant sand sculpture, its walls formed seemingly by dripping wet sand so that each drop freezes where it falls, as well as the sculptures of mythological sea creatures guarding the inner heart of the fountain. This being one of the only dry fountains I have come across in Rome, we step inside to get a closer look. 

We can tell that the center part of it is an old well from which the water was probably originally drawn. Peering inside, lo and behold! There is a staircase spiraling down into it! One by one, with lanterns in hand, all 6 of us gingerly climb up and in, disappearing from sight as far as the rest of the world can tell.

The bottom of the well, dark and cool, houses the large pipe once used to bring in

 the water, after the well dried up. And the pipe continues on into a deep, narrow tunnel, which seems to absorb all the light emitting from our lanterns, soaked up by an inky darkness. There's no telling where this long forgotten passage underground leads to, or at least where it once led to, for unfortunately, about 50 feet back, though I could hardly see anything at all, the pass came to an abrupt end, only allowing the pipe to continue on.

After the darkness of the well, the sun seems to be beating down on us especially bright and hot, and we yearn for the cool reprise we know awaits us deeper into the park.

Eventually, we come upon it. Another fountain, on the edge of a small cliff, full to the brim this time with remarkably clear, frigid water spewing out the top into a pool abut 4 and a half feet deep, and draining down the center to cascade down the cliff and into a man-made river, which, after going through another series of waterworks and falls, deposits into a large pond, teeming with little red-eared slider turtles, ducks, and even a family of swans. 

While others strip down to their underwear and dive into the fountain's pool, I sit on the edge and stick my tired legs and feet into the water, where they soon become numb from the cold. Though not wanting to fully immerse myself, for I had no towel or change of cloths with me, I submitted to the heat and took off my shirt so that I could submerge it in the frigid water and then put it back on my over-heated body. What a sweet reprise it is to have such an effective cooling agent out in nature! The only thing we had to worry about is making sure no park police are around to see us, for swimming in a public fountain, as we were told by another man who had come with his dog (a cocker spaniel named "bimba," which means baby girl) to swim, would land each of us a fine of 200 euro, or about $350.

Afterwards, we went down to the river and, wishing to cross it, decided it would be a good idea to scale across the statues, plants, and waterworks at the head of the river where the water was pouring out. With much care and effort we all managed to get across unscathed (save for a few cuts from large thorny bushes) and without damaging anything.

Moving right along we finally came upon our final destination of the day. 

Wild fig trees.

Growing fairly short, with low, wide-spread branches, these trees are very easy to climb and pick their sun-ripened fruit. Soon enough we had gathered a significant pile of the fresh fruit and were trying to find ways to transport them all back home without getting too much of the plant's milky sap everywhere, which tends to irritate the skin. 

Crossing through a large field where these unusual Italian trees grow straight and tall, only branching out at the very top, where they always seem to form a perfectly shaped canopy, we exit the park. Promising a happy return later to further explore its outreaches and see what other surprises still lay in store for us to discover, but in the meantime, we sure do have a lot of figs to eat.

  Happy trails,

        ~Rachael

 

(Photos courtesy of Aiden Vitti, using her Nikon D60)