Experience: I was an ‘illegal’ tour guide in Rome

 “Do I need to cover my shoulders to enter the Colosseum?”, an American tourist asked me over the roar of the Trevi Fountain. I considered my answer, tempted by a deceitful reply. Then I remembered my boss’ maxim in broken English, “It’s all about Tripadvisor review” - I chose honesty, “No no, the Colosseum is not a church…”

 This was just one of a series of defining interactions during my time as an “illegal” tour guide in Rome, which suffered a record 51 million visitors last year. That’s pretty overwhelming for a city of 3 million residents. 

 Tour guides live and die by their Tripadvisor reviews, licensed or unlicensed. Lacking the years necessary to study a history degree and pass the public concorso and Italian language tests, I opted to join the many hundreds of workers giving unlicensed tours in Rome. These are technically “illegal” - you can expect a €200 fine if caught by the police.

 My fellow tour guides were a mixed bunch with one common theme: they were all foreign students. Most came from outside the EU, with visa-limits on their ability to work. Hence the cash-in-hand allure of the unlicensed, uncontracted tour guide. Indeed, many of my newfound colleagues were from Iran, a peculiarity of Rome’s higher education system. 

 This often led to ridiculous situations. As part of my “training” I, a Brit, accompanied an Iranian giving a tour of the Jewish Ghetto to two Israelis and two Germans. Yes, it sounds like the start to a risky joke. In a bold move the tour guide brought up current events in the Middle East, a bitter argument ensued amongst the tourists whilst I considered whether a licensed guide would have done this. I decided to avoid the ghetto tour after that, much to my boss’ ire.

 On arrival to all my tours I would give the piazza a quick scan. Guardia di Finanza (Finance Police) were often parked in the top left corner of Piazza Barberini, but a fellow unlicensed guide assured me it was just a posting for the Argentinian embassy, not for us low-fry hucksters. 

 No, it's the Polizia Roma Capitale you need to look out for. The hall-monitors of Italian policing can be found at all of Rome’s main attractions. They’re the ones dishing out fines to daft tourists jumping in fountains and riding electric scooters down the Spanish Steps. They’re also there to stop unlicensed tour groups clogging Rome’s historic sites.

 “You explain the Trevi fountain here”, my newfound colleague Jessy gestured to a position with the fountain nowhere in sight. “Go any closer and you risk a hefty fine, they got me there last year”, she nodded down the road. And so on my tours I explained the sites with almost none of them present. You cannot imagine the presentational ability that requires. Upon sight of the monument a game of act-like-a-tourist whilst showing-tourists-around would commence in earnest. There truly is no such thing as unskilled labour. 

 The churches were best, no police and a respite from the heat. Rome is boiling, summer temperatures are frequently 8 degrees above the 20th century average. My customers from less pedestrian-friendly countries suffered the most. That’s probably a lie, the customer who asked me where the Parthenon was definitely suffered the most upon hearing he was roughly four countries away by land. 

 I counted my cash tips at the end of every tour - my only form of pay. My boss was incredibly paranoid about his 3 euro per person cut. “How many showed up?” was the inevitable end-of-tour phone conversation, again I would choose honesty - an option which can feel like a losing game in this city. Between customers who left without tipping and those with no cultural understanding of it, my pay rarely exceeded 20 euros an hour. Still, not bad in a country without a minimum wage. 

 Eventually, I gave up the gig. My boss’ latest demand for cash upfront in exchange for more tours was the final straw and I decided to walk away. Shame really, showing Rome’s sites to gullible tourists was not a bad way to earn a living. 

 My last tour was to the Vatican on an early summer’s eve. The sun was setting on the Spanish Steps when the air was broken by a sudden tourist’s query, “Should I have brought my passport for the Vatican?”. This time I chose dishonesty and thought to myself, my work here is done.

jp-jg