Most people have a checklist to check when visiting a new country. National Museum, famous bridge, legendary music venue. For me, the vacation was not complete until I checked the local chess scene.
This habit began on a trip to Paris a few years ago. As a chess player who is keen on chess-not a master, but a competent amateur-I must go to Luxembourg Gardens, where the famous chess enthusiasts gather.
After enjoying some games before dusk, the regulars were all cleaned up, and I casually asked my opponent where else to play. In the character of John le Carré, he gave me the time, name and address. Out of curiosity, I followed his instructions and found myself in an empty bar in the 11th district that was about to close. Can't see chess, but when I said my name, the bartender yelled happily and took out a chess board.
When we played, more and more people came. I joined the underground chess community in Paris and was welcomed as an "British". Our group continued to move forward and went to two more bars to play a three-minute "blitz" chess that became more and more crazy and drunk. We ended up in a nightclub where gamblers danced on the table making further matches impossible.
When I woke up the next morning, I was not sure if I had the whole dream. But I exchanged contact information with a new friend of mine. When I returned to Paris four years later, I sent him a message asking for more chess recommendations. A few minutes later, I received the name of a new location-the "Blitzkrieg Association" south of the Seine.
For amateurs like me, this is heaven: a bar made up purely of tables with chessboards, and each table is provided with chess pieces and a clock. People show up all night, with friends or themselves, and are matched by bar staff to participate in the game.
I found myself matching a young Parisian working for a civil servant. When our two governments got involved in a war of words about fishing rights, we brought the struggle to the chessboard. We friendly and kindly insulted each other about the stereotypes and shortcomings of our respective countries, and we have established a comprehensive friendship. I introduced him to some chess variants-the rules have changed and the game is crazy. He particularly likes Bughouse, with four players playing on two rebounds. The captured pieces will be passed to your teammates and have them place them where they want on the board.
Paris is not the only city that offers many things for travelers who love chess. I have many unforgettable experiences-spas in Budapest, bars in Porto, the Great Wall of China, deserts in Iraq, and even 10,000 feet of Swiss mountains. Chess is a universal religion. Its devotees are strange and wonderful people. Sometimes weird, often obsessed, always interesting, and they often know their city better than most people. Spontaneous opponents become city guides, emergency contacts, and lifelong friends.
New York must maintain its crown as the king of casual street chess. Go to Union Square or Washington Square Park, and you will find Wall Street bankers and homeless former criminals sitting across the table, debris flying. They come from completely different classes, but here they are equal. The chessboard is a level playing field, and social status, economic strength and racial identity have nothing to do with the result. The most important thing is ability.
If you feel lucky, you can always find a liar to make a bet. When it comes to cash, I warn against men who look shabby in the park. They have been playing for decades and know all the tricks. People in suits and leather shoes from Wall Street but inexperienced are more likely to profit from it.
During my own trip in New York, I spent too much time in the downtown shops and bars, and the last day left me out of money. A successful meeting in Union Square provided me with enough money to take a taxi to JFK Airport.
But you don't have to rely on the existing street chess culture to find foreign games. My collapsible silicone chess board and a bag of chess pieces—less than £20 from the Chess and Bridge shops on Baker Street—have been a reliable partner for countless overseas adventures. With your own suit, you will be amazed at how easy it is to find opponents abroad.
On a solo trip to Copenhagen, I set up my board of directors in the youth hostel where I stayed. I got some curious glances, but a few minutes later, a local man approached and gestured to ask. He sat down to play, and we soon entered the fast-paced blitzkrieg rhythm. Soon, a dozen backpackers crowded on the blackboard. Many people admit that they don't know how these fragments move, but they are still fascinated. My opponent can't speak English, and I can't speak Danish, but it doesn't matter. The communication on the chessboard is more exciting and compelling than any conversation I have on the road.
This is the charm of chess. This is a speechless debate, a silent dialogue (although "trash talking" is a common and interesting feature of street chess). You must stand in the opponent's perspective, read and understand them. You must evaluate their style, determine their strengths, understand their weaknesses and weaknesses, identify their strategies, and predict their actions. These skills are not only related to chess-they are also life skills. The ability to look to the future and see corners is as valuable in business and politics as it is on the chessboard.
Chess is not always risk-free. The base of most parts has a lead plate to increase weight and prevent tipping. During my trip to Beirut, I learned that when going through airport security, 32 lead-weighted chess pieces in my bag would be very dangerous. As the baggage scanner alarm went off and the airport security staff yelled that there was a bullet or some kind of bomb hidden in my bag, I found myself facing a heavily armed security force.
When they opened my bag and found my digital chess clock, it only got worse, it was always on, ticking, flashing and counting down to zero like a nuclear device in a spy movie. If it's not that serious, it would be ridiculous. Fortunately, a security guard recognized the clock and I escaped intact. I can only assume that he himself must be a chess player. I should ask him if he likes games.
Jamie Njoku-Goodwin is the CEO of the British Music Company and a former special adviser to the Ministry of Health and Social Care