Many younger readers haven’t yet had the chance to travel as widely as this column, which, in the past five years, has, at often enormous personal expense, visited England, Spain, France, Italy, Mexico and the South Pacific.

Four years ago, while in Italy, this column and its fiancee decided to make a pilgrammage to the tiny Adriatic coast resort town of Rimini, where Federico Fellini spent his formative years, and in which he later set Amarcord. There, on a curb in front of a beachfront discotheque popular with vistors from Yugoslavia, we were astonished and delighted to see the name Dead Kennedys. scrawled. Later, in Rome, we marveled at the fact that, from a particular point on the Trastavere side of the Tiber, one could see “Punks Not Dead” and “Sid [Vicious, we surmised] Lives” spraypainted in three-feet-high letters on the opposite embankment.