“This intangible and impalpable source of freshness and life, you’d very much like to carry it home, you see, the old magistrate from Naples said to me, but you cannot. It has little to do with itself once you transport it somehow. It is so much easier to make this your home, or my home rather.” He smiles. I like this man.
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“Is it true what they say, then?” I ask Mr. Gambestri. He laughs. “Of course is true, my boy! Would I waste my last years of life if it wasn’t? I am from Naples, the most beautiful city in the world, don’t you know?”
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“I used to bathe in gin when I lived in Chicago. It was horrendous, and I was married. I just didn’t know of the real pleasures of life back then. Water, my dear, water is why we are here.”
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“This intangible and impalpable source of freshness and life, you’d very much like to carry it home, you see,” the old magistrate from Naples said to me, “but you cannot. It has little to do with itself once you transport it somehow. It is so much easier to make this your home, or my home rather.” He smiles, I like this man.
Mr. Doroteo Gambestri has been living in the Grand Hotel Palazzo della Fonte for quite some years he speaks to me on one of the park benches. Looking fresh and wrinkly at once, he smiles to me in a rather peaceful manner—,content, almost Zen-like. His teeth must be new, but his tan shows some wear, having been exposed to the November brisk in Fiuggi.
“Is it true what they say, then?” I ask Mr. Gambestri. He laughs. “Of course is true, my boy! Would I waste my last years of life if it wasn’t? I am from Naples, the most beautiful city in the world, don’t you know?”
I walked along I could have jogged, many people here do that, and I like to think that I can jog, but surely most of these guys and girls can jog a lot better and are twice my age.
What “they” say is that the water here has rejuvenating powers. Not that it’s good for you, or that it’s low in calcium and high in minerals, or whatever else makes water good for you. No “they” say it has rejuvenating powers. That’s big.
Asking who is “they” would take us some time to answer. Fiuggi is not far from Rome, and all things around here, traditions and legends alike, have thousands of years on them— quite like some chaps of the hotel’s third floor. But enough of that, I will be old one day and it won’t be funny then, but you see these kids here don’t seem to carry it on as a hitch.
The walk to the Fonte is short and uneventful. What I notice is that the green is very bright on the trees, and the musk has its way in places you wouldn’t see it anywhere else. Everyone is enjoying the powers of this magic fountain, this seems as clear as water to me. (See what I did there?)
Clarissa greets me as I walk through the door. We danced a little last night; she is quite a mover and, sure, I was a bit rusty on the polka, but she forgave me. “A drink?” I ask her to apologize for my poor lagging tempo. “I would love a sparkling Fiuggi, darling. Yes, let’s walk up to the bar.”
As we approach the marble surface, I make myself clearer “Would you like a real drink? Vino or sherry or whatever else?” Let’s loosen up a little, I thought, make this fun. Is it sherry that old women drink?
“Oh no, dear,” replies Clarissa. Her mascara thickly blinked at me with shades of blue, the same tone of her vivid eyes. “I used to bathe in gin when I lived in Chicago. It was horrendous, and I was married. I just didn’t know of the real pleasures of life back then. Water, my dear, water is why we are here.”
Clarissa is from the United States, and she smells of old money. Her jewelry radiates a sound so delicious it makes me want to eat her every bracelet. It reminds me of an old friend of my grandmother who used to visit when I was a child. She was so wealthy she couldn’t keep it to herself, it would have been like not being wealthy. But Clarissa is beautiful, and gentle—and single.
I read a book recently of a young woman who sleeps her way through a new life. The people I meet here seem to bathe themselves into a new life. Glorious wakening through ancient waters that tighten their grip on bannisters and the grip on the numerous number of daily glasses of Fiuggi water. The Romans discovered it, and now everyone’s life depends on it. It’s diuretic power has no rivals, and the taste is the one of crystal purity and good. The taste of good. You bathe in it, you drink it. You shower and brush your teeth with it. You touch it, you try to hold it, and as you do it slips away, just like youth. q
Paolo Zerbini is an Italian photographer living in London. Recently has taken on writing as a complementary aspect of his work, publishing three short stories within his latest book of photographs. Paolo is a big fan of the color orange.
LOCATION – Grand Hotel Palazzo Della Fonte Via dei Villini, 7,09015 Fiuggi
Production Hotel Production Milan
Talents Carlo Santesarti, Patrzia de
Martino, Ornella Bianchini,
Fabiana Cittadini, Silverio Umbri,
Nadia Coccia, Valeria Paolini,
Emiliano Conti, Alena Nikolaeva,
Edoardo de Santis, Beatrice de Santis,
Fabiana Paolini, Gelsomino Giovinazzo
Assistant stylist Faliero Luca
