“Where’s Hannah?” asks an American tour group, gathered in the shade on the steps, looking for both Hannah and relief from the sun. The weather is the same as it has been all week in Rome—steadily at 29 degrees Celsius and rising—with the sun’s rays harshly hitting the tops of tourists’ heads at the Spanish Steps. Those who anticipated this brought brightly colored umbrellas or wore floppy straw hats that concealed their faces. The hum of bustling people and the occasional car or bike horn harmonize with the sound of the bubbling fountain.
The Fontana della Barcaccia, also known as the “Fountain of the Boat,” appears as an oasis before the crowd, where tourists approach to have their pictures taken or to fill their water bottles with fresh Roman tap water. A sun sculpture spouts this water, and as if in cosmic balance, the coins sunken to the bottom of the fountain resemble stars dotting the night sky.
“I can’t walk anymore,” says a young boy, huffing and puffing up the steps as his dad gives a gruff chuckle. Unfortunately, now only at the first tier, the boy has many steps to go. Birds mimic the visitors by hopping up or down the steps, pecking at crumbs and discarded cigarette butts. The now more distant sounds are joined by the clopping of horse hooves on the cobblestone, pulling carriages of love-struck couples. The steps are framed by the looming historic buildings seen all over Rome, yet these particular ones house pricey luxury stores on their ground level. The Dior, Moncler, and Prada stores seem to look up to their viewers from this level, and the disproportionately large Gucci advertisement taking up half a building does the same.
“There’s a palm tree! No, that’s a pine tree. No, over there!” argue two siblings, looking out at the vast landscape from the second tier of steps. Both are right, as pine and palm trees can be seen—a visual reminder that the steps are truly a meeting place for all. From this angle, the tops of roofs are just visible, and the people at the fountain below have become a colorful sea of clothing. Most of the hundreds of visitors at any given moment remain at the base of the steps and the fountain, with only a few making the climb to the top. The luxury stores at ground level are soon replaced by the second level of apartment windows and subsequent greenery. Spiraling trimmed hedges on balconies and ivy vines snake up the walls, leading visitors to the final tier.
“Up there [indicates toward a spot off in the distance] has the best view in Rome. Is there an escalator to the top?!” In true tourist fashion, finding the most convenient way to the top is a pressing matter. Luckily for these visitors, they have made it to the top tier of the Spanish Steps, which presents miles of Rome’s domes, rooftop bars, and gardens. Hundreds of shades of warm browns, yellows, and oranges fill the skyline, while the bustling crowds below are reduced to vibrant blips of color.
This third tier connects to the French Gothic-style Church of Santissima Trinità dei Monti, adorned with an ancient sundial and a traditional clock. Continuing the celestial theme, the interior of the church features suns and stars at every corner in its sculptures and frescoes. Particularly, the chapel of St. Francesco da Paola represents this ideal, with the saint accompanied by a grid of repeating stars. The church itself is relatively small but hosts six chapels, each with its own unique frescoes, as every inch of space is covered in religious or celestial imagery. Silence fills the church, only interrupted by the shuffling of feet and the occasional cough.
Upon exiting the church, the city sounds resume, and a girl in passing asks, “So, where are the Spanish Steps?”
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