The following text was written by me in 1964, when I was sixteen years old, for a classmate’s magazine called Novelty. He published a new issue every week (a single copy laboriously typed out) and asked me to contribute something. I volunteered a series on Italy. Recently I asked my friend, with whom happily I remain in touch, whether the magazine or anything that I wrote for it survives. ‘Of course he replied and sent me a couple of extracts. What appears below are parts 11 and 12 of that series.
Looking back, I am amazed that I could write so coherently at sixteen about my experiences in Rome.
The story behind my visit is worth explaining. My mother at that time a social worker for the Italian community in London, was helping a girl whose difficulties stemmed from her mother’s recent divorce; the girl struggled to come to terms with her father having left the well-to-do family home in Rome. Her mother offered to pay my mother for her care. My mother said, “Don’t pay me—but, if you like I would be most grateful if you could do one thing: my son is very interested in Rome. He’s just read a whole book about its architecture. Why not give him hospitality for a couple of weeks?”
And indeed, it came true. I was given two weeks’ hospitality—not in Rome proper, but in a holiday flat the family owned in the capital’s seaside resort of Ostia. I spent much of my time on the beach, but I also took the train into central Rome with my Blue Guide and explored the architectural wonders of the city intensively. I’ve been to Rome many times since, but never with such concentrated attention to its highlights.
At the time, someone told me that as a child I could enter many places free of charge, which is why the following episode occurred: my visit to the Ministry of Public Instruction. I am now publishing Parts 11 and 12 as they appeared in Novelty. Sadly I had no camera with me. It could have been possible for me to have had one at the time but it just didn’t happen. So no photographs either of me or of the Ministry of Instruction. (Any photos are added from current sources).
I remain captivated by what I wrote, and I often wish I had pursued this path more rigorously. Life took me in other directions, but in many ways my current blog is an attempt to recapture that path not taken.

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“UN TURISTA IN ITALIA PARTS 11 and ,12

On the following Monday — which was to be my first visit to the city of Rome — armed with dark glasses and notebook, I started on an extremely fine but very hot day to see Rome’s monuments. I should have gone in at twilight and lazed around on the beach at Ostia instead.

The aluminium multiple-unit train flashed rapidly through the flat but interesting scenery of the Roman Campagna. To the left was the Via Ostiense, the ancient Roman consular road linking Ostia with the great metropolis; the modern road still follows the old course. Everywhere the countryside was dotted with the typical Roman “umbrella pines” which have inspired poets, artists, and musicians to speak of their picturesque quality. One only has to think of Respighi’s Pines of Rome, a very beautifully orchestrated symphonic poem.
The new and extensive suburbs of Rome now began to appear, and shortly afterwards the train plunged into the entrance of its underground section.
“Colosseo,” read the station plaque. I stepped off the train to get my first view of that most famous of Roman monuments — the Colosseum. There it was: its time-scarred and blackened walls rose to a high yet sturdy level. The sheer size of this edifice made a very deep impression of “the grandeur that was Rome” on me. I had seen the Colosseum many times before in reproductions and the like, but never had imagined that it could be so vast and impressive. As usual, the local Romans passing by paid no attention to it. But do we Londoners pay attention to Nelson’s Column or Buckingham Palace when we pass them?
In order to get a better view of the Colosseum from the top, I decided to climb a flight of stairs, but found myself confronted by a ticket-office official.
“That will be three hundred lire, please,” he demanded.
“Three hundred lire,” I thought. “Why, that’s nearly three and sixpence, which is rather expensive.”
Fortunately the benevolent official guessed my thoughts and said,
“If you’re a student, you ought to go to the Ministry of Public Instruction, where they will give you a card entitling you to free admission to all national monuments.”
Thereupon he wrote down the address of the ministry and told me about it — the prospect of obtaining something for nothing was now most appealing.

It is extremely nerve-wracking to arrive in a city of which one is completely ignorant. I had no idea where the bus was going to take me. Every so often I asked a passenger, in my best Italian, “Do you know where the Ministry of Public Instruction is, please?”
Eventually, I got off the bus and walked up to a large building’s entrance. I looked at the elaborate Baroque façade, a style in vogue at the time.

I found that the interior of the building was as impressive as the outside. Fortunately, the attendant was polite.
“Please,” I said to the man behind the desk, handing over a card with neat italics. “This will be stamped?”
“Certainly,” he said after finishing his artistic calligraphy. The Ministry of Public Instruction in Italy is a most amusing institution—every public announcement and advertisement must carry a little government stamp if it is to be legally displayed. Even to receive a school report, a pupil must pay a forty-lira stamp duty, much as he might dislike doing so and receiving it!
Of course, it was much easier returning to the Coliseum, for everyone knows what that building looks like.

Protected by government authority, I began my inspection of this massive but elegant structure.
“Have you got your permit?” asked the keeper as I brushed past his booth, displaying my card. In fact, the advice of this humble man proved invaluable during my travels in Italy. I calculated that I saved, in all, ten pounds in museum entry fees!

After an exhausting climb, I arrived at the top of the amphitheatre and reflected on its historic stones. The Colosseum was commenced by Vespasian in A.D. 70 and completed by Domitian twelve years later. It is situated in the level valley between the Esquiline and Caelian hills, and in plan is a vast ellipse, 620 feet by 513 feet, with eighty external arcaded openings on each storey.
The arena itself is an oval of 287 feet by 180 feet, surrounded by a wall 15 feet high, behind which was the podium with the Imperial throne and seats for the Pontifex Maximus (Chief Priest), Vestal Virgins, Senators, Praetors, and other officers of state”.