Chess and the Multiverse of Madness

 I created a catchy title through a mash-up of my high school activity and a recent Marvel Disney movie (Dr. Strange and the Multiverse of Madness), but chess is kind of a metaphor for the multiverse: With every single move that is made in chess, the variations of outcomes increases and the flow of the game branches off into millions, billions, infinite possibilities. Every time I make a chess move, I consider that I could have made a different move, and that other move could have branched off into all of its various possibilities after that. That is, as I understand it, precisely how the multiverse works: each decision we make changes our outcomes as it branches off. So theoretically, there could be parallell universes right now where I didn't play 1. c5 black against white's opening move of 1.c5, or where I didn't order from Chipotle last night, or where I didn't meet MJ 7 years ago by chance, or where I didn't choose to become a lawyer and decided to go into teaching instead. (Boy, that would have really branched off into a whole nuther universe where I'm dealing with homework, assigning grades, talking to helicopter parents, and worse, trying to be a pawn in the U.S.'s current political battle that is stretching out into the classrooms. (Also, I'd be a little more fearful of my life going into the classroom as opposed to sitting on my butt at home, unfortunately for teachers). 

This weekend reminded me of an old flame I used to like playing: Chess. I analyzed every game I played, the mistakes I made, what I could have done differently, and things to improve for next time. It was fun, and I was rewarded for my improvements by the wins that I put up and the pleasure of helping my team win. I'll never forget the feeling of being the last player left in an important Illinois state final game in 2004 (junior year of high school), needing a win for our team to win, and pulling out in front of everybody. Probably the most locked in, pressure-packed situation I've ever been in (and I was half of my age now, half the maturity, half the ability to handle myself!) I loved chess and the competitive drive that it brought out in me, and I loved winning. 

I realize now that my tendency to look back at various decisions I've made in life take root at least partly from chess, where you get to play the game, but then go back after the game is over and see what I could have done differently, and project myself into different multiverses where things could have gone right, and importantly, play out the scenario (it's literally called a postmortem) after the game is over to see what would have happened, and get a pretty definitive answer (although, there's probably various other multiverses even from the postmortem that are left unexplored/undiscovered. It's not an exact science). Life is not that easy; I can look back at certain key moments in my own life where I could have chosen another path, but I don't really get to play any of the scenarios out, much less react to what I would have done if another fork had opened along that other path. (If this is sounding a lot like that "Midnight Library" entry where I recap'ed the book by Matthew Haig, you're right it does). Now chess websites are so sophisticated that they can analyze your past games for you and give a (!) for excellent moves, and (?) for questionable moves, and (??) for obvious blunders, that any novice player could have seen was going to be a blunder. Unfortunately, our lives don't allow for that ability neither, although I'm pretty certain about where I can put (??) next to things I did in my life. We also rarely give ourselves enough credit for (!) moves. 

Sometimes, I crave the relative certainty of chess. Pieces can only move a certain away, the playing field is just the 64 squares in front of both players, the rules are defined and you can't make up as you go along. So there is actually a likely finite number of multiverses in chess. It's going to be an astronomically high number (the largest I can think of is a googol, 1 followed by 100 zeros) but there's some limit to it. There's no limit to life, to the possibilities in life, to the randomness that occurs, the variables, and what might happen in the future. It's just chaos compared to chess. But that's also what's so great about it. Chess is fun but it only stays fun for so long (I stopped playing after high school). Life is much more dynamic, and fruitful if the variables all turn out your way. 

Stendhal Syndrome

 Stendhal Syndrome, also called Florence syndrome because it first happened in Florence, Italy, is apparently this phenomenon of being so overwhelmed by the majesty of art that one faints, enters into a fugue state, gets confused, or even has hallucinations. Seems pretty unlikely to me, yet it's common enough that a name has been given to it. If anything, I believe more of the opposite phenomon, Paris syndrome, which is that people are underwhelmed by the reality of Paris and feel it doesn't match up to the image they had in their own mind. Sounds awfully similar to buyer's remorse or just feeling disappointment about a movie, a book, a TV show, or anything that we consume in today's society: the reality is often (and usually) not as good as it was advertised. 

Apparently, though, Stendhal is not just being fascinated and going "oooh" and "ahhhhh" at artwork, and Paris Syndrome is not just feeling disappointed like "groan" or leaving the Louvre after 20 minutes when you thought it was going to be this life-changing experience but instead got bored at the ancient Egyptian exhibit that's just like every other ancient Egypt exhibit you've ever been to (not saying I disliked the Louvre, I just had heard so much mystique about the masterpieces of artwork over the years in their collection and rumors about people trying to steal the Mona Lisa, that I thought it'd be this grand majestic place with fountains and chambers full of gold and other treasures, but instead of treasures it's just full of....tourists. And people surrounding the Mona Lisa to gawk at it. Maybe that explains why somebody recently threw a piece of cake at the Mona Lisa? Could be Paris Syndrome). Paris Syndrome apparently only aplies to people who suffer extreme reactions to the artwork, like fainting or some abnormal circumstance. I just can't ever imagine myself ever reacting so strongly to artwork that I had an epiphany and blood rushed to my head so quickly I couldn't contain or myself, or in the opposite sense I can't imagine being so disappointed I felt I was persecuted and suffered trauma or shock because of it. I would do what I normally do at art museums: nod and move on to the next piece. 

The only thing I can think of when viewing art is like if I saw an extra detail in a Seurat pointilism painting (like an extra person hiding in the Sunday in the park at La Grande Jatte) or something that totally changed my perception of the work, or maybe if the Last Supper had a hidden detail of Judas doing something with his hands that gave away his intention to betray Jesus, something like an Easter Egg that would completely alter my perception of the work, I could maybe see someone fainting, especially if that person (unlike me) was an art afficinado or connoisseur, like of fine wines. "How could I have missed that?" It's hard to do that when the work is like a pastel of just 5 different colors splashed in a stripe pattern like Ellsworth Kelly or Mark Rothko, but then again it's probably my ignorance of their styles that makes me not understand them. 

The closest I've ever gotten to Paris Syndrome was probably going to Mardi Gras or something (sorry New Orleans) when I was younger and had been told so much by peers and other adults how much fun I'd have at the French Quarter and what a great experience it was........and then just being shockingly disappointed by the whole experience, and questioning my very existence in the world and what I valued about entertainment, and if I should ever believe others about the quality of certain hyped-up tourist experiences ever again. Tourism is tricky....the more the consensus that some place is great, the more room it has for disappointment, up until you realize it's just another touristy spot that has done its best to hype itself up and draw visitors. 

Home Renovation (家居装修, 家の改修, 집 수리)

 A category came up on Jeopardy this past Friday that I knew alarmingly little about: Home Renovation. The terms came fast and heavy at me and I was not prepared for it, combinations like "tongue and groove" flooring baffled me even though we just paid a hefty sum to put new floor tiles in our home, "farmhouse sink" and "subway tiles" were like a different language to me.... I did know what a kitchen island was, the $200 (easiest clue). Looks like I need a lot of work. 

Since I've always lived at my parents' home or in different apartments that were already set up, I've never had to worry about interior design, or home renovations.....the unit comes as is, and I accepted it as is. Which is where MJ and I totally see things differently: she has our own style of living that she'd like to impose upon her place that designs who she is, just like clothes and art define her, whereas I've never felt the need to define: I'm not a dictionary! But I understand the need to. Whenever I go to an art museum, I am fascinated by the layout of the museum and the design of the museum itself, often more impressive than the artwork itself. Whether it's the grand majesty of the Met, the unique circular design of the Guggenheim museum, or the recently-visited U-shape of the Uffizi in Florence, I remember museums by what I'm seeing walking through the museum. Speaking of the Uffizi, I'm a big believer now in Sandro Botticelli's work now: I prefer the Primavera to the Birth of Venus, although both just contain such exquisite detail and life-size drawings of human figures that really exemplify the Renaissance Age. The way the Uffizi presents these 2 paintings in 2 back-to-back rooms is exactly what I mean about interior design mattering: Right after taking in the Primavera in one giant wall (there are other minor works of Botticelli also surrounding the work, visitors go directly to the next room and immediately face the Birth of Venus; there are actually spots between the rooms that one can see both masterpieces to compare and contrast. Brilliant design for 2 brilliant pieces of art. 

MJ and I are looking into both kitchen and bathroom remodeling: our shower room floor needs to be completely replaced, and certain areas of the kitchen need to be redone like the lights and possibly the countertops. (We're not fancy enough to have an island in the kitchen, although that may be a long-term goal). As much as I cringe whenever MJ mentions needing to repair something (it triggers in me an instinctive response to wonder what the financial damage will be) I do admit that my everyday loving is improved by many of the interior design selections we've gone with, including the hardwood floors which are definitely an improvement on carpet floors that we've had in the past. We're not trying to recreate the Uffizi, but to at least make it impressive for any potential guests we might invite to our home, or at least make it impressive to ourselves since we spend so much of our lives here in these rooms. I feel like one of the art museum employees who guard the artworks during the day from prying visitors: I am in the presence of great artwork, but I am stuck in it all day so I don't appreciate it after a while! 

Speed Reading (速读, 速読, 속독)

 I was reading the book version of "The Martian" by Andy Weir today, which preceded the hit 2015 movie starring Matt Damon (Bring him home!) and it's a really nice and easy read, flowing just as easily as the movie did with Mark Watney, the astronaut, giving day-by-day status updates while trapped on Mars, but Andy Weir definitely did his research on space travel and Mars, even using real Mars geopgraphic features (the Ares Vallis) and old NASA missions like the Mars Pathfinder from 1997. (Also, ASCII, a computer language, and many more!) I sped through teh book, but I wondered how fast I would go if I could speed read, which some of my friends have mentioned they are equipped to do. 

I do a modified version of speed reading, which is that I skip select words, select lines, and even some paragraphs when I feel like that portion isn't interesting or doesn't add anything, sometimes glossing over it completely or alternatively browsing it for key words just in case I missed something. At this point in my reading of English language (not necessarily for other languages, but there are definitely patterns I see in other languages too) I can visualize a whole block of words and kind of know where I need to know it or not, and if it's a lot of throat-clearing or connection words (and, the, for, from, of, etc) and skip them to get to the meaty words with more substance. This practice can backfire of course if I gloss over the wrong word or a short word that turned out to be pretty important, but I feel like that has to be part of what speed readers, do, right? Knowing to go quickly over certain words or skipping certain words. 

As for skipping entire paragraphs, obviously I'm risking missing out there, but depending on the writer I feel like I can definitely get the gist of what they're saying as long as I stay connected to the overall narrative, and logical deduction can plug in some holes. I can always go back and re-read if I missed a key detail like "HE HAD SOLVED THE CASE- THE KILLER WAS...." but that rarely happens: I've read a lot of books now, and I kind of know what to watch out for. The Martian, though, kept me thoroughly entertained by the way Weir wrote the dialogue and like Mark Watney was speaking directly to the reader, so I didn't need to skip too much. 

I feel a little bad but not too bad (because time is money) that I have a similar practice for certain TV shows, movies.....I just binge watched Season 4 of Stranger Things (using Korean subtitles to learn Korean simultaneously, although the American lingo of the 1980's sometimes gets lost in translation when converted to Korean) with liberal use of the trustly Netflix "skip 10 seconds button." Great series, and Season 4 didn't disappoint, but I definitely understand the gripe about "too many characters" and the David Harbour/Hopper storyline in Russia being a real drag. I skipped just about all of those scenes and focused on the main storyline of the Vecna in a sort of "binge speed-watch." I thoroughly enjoyed it. 

Another area that speed-reading comes in handy, according to some, is when playing Jeopardy, and I've seen with my own ideas some successful Jeopardy champions reading the clue, processing it extremely quickly, and coming up with a faster before Ken Jennings or Mayim Bialik can even finish reading the clue. Props to those people, they're smart and on Jeopardy for a reason, but I find it works better for me to process the question as it's being read, let Ken's voice soak into my brain and see if it triggers any memories, and try to get it right before he finishes reading so I can yell out the answer before the contestant on screen can. I'd rather be a little slower to answer than mis-read a question or what it was asking for like "This state's capital is also the last name of actor Joaquin......" and blurt out PHOENIX! When it was asking for Arizona. That kind of mistake happens quite often from what I've seen on Jeoaprdy, so even if I think I know the clue right away from speed reading, I'd rather let it be read out in case I missed anything. (Measure twice, cut once = read twice, ring in and answer once). 

Covid- the New Normal

 Two years ago we were dealing with the "new normal" of being stuck in our homes and sheltering in a place due to the Covid-19 pandemic, adjusting our lives to being at home all day. Two years later we have the vaccines to allow us to go outside and get back to pre-Covid times, but with the caveat that Covid is now likely to be with humankind forever. That in itself takes some getting used to. 

I'm writing this on the day I went to a concert featuring Anne-Sophie Mutter, a Grammy-winning violinist who was scheduled to perform, but had to cancel at the last second due to testing positive for Covid-19. Since she was the feature act for a half of the concert (the better half, the one people paid up to come see/ headliner) but had to pull out at the last second, so there just wasn't a second half of the concert. Really unfortunate, but also due to Covid-19 protocols unavoidable. It seems like a paradox in this weird post-vaccine world that people feel safe enough to meet in public and generally go back to normal life, and getting a positive Covid test isn't nearly as scary as it used to be, but then it can still have devastating consequences like a stage performer pulling out, or a U.S. traveler abroad who cannot come home due to testing positive before boarding the plane home (I know a Facebook friend who's currently stuck in that ordeal). The chances of getting it are much higher due to looser mask mandates, more relaxed attitudes, but it's still just that one positive test that can ruin one's plans. Luckily, when MJ and I went to Italy we both tested negative at a pharmacy the morning of our flight home (after a bit of a freakout by MJ the night before that we wouldn't be able to get tested in time), but I had to admit we easily could have tested positive, from so many different dining experiences in a crowded restaurant where we unmasked to eat food, to sitting in crowded train cars full of other passengers, to being shoulder to shoulder in attractions like the Colosseum....any one of those interactions could have given us Covid. PLUS, what's to say that we wouldn't have gotten Covid after we got a negative test? It's not like we suddenly have a shield of invincibility after that negative test, we still had to get to the airport, sit in the Skyteam lounge (thank you Delta Skymiles), and get on a full flight home.....doesn't that increase our risk of getting Covid and giving it to other people? Seems like a silly proposition to just rely on that one test. 

My cynical side also thought, "What if this is Ms. Mutter's way of calling in sick/playing hooky?" Covid-19 is a legitimate reason not to show up, but I can imagine that some people have used it as an excuse not to go to work/social event/anything they didn't want to go to but had to make up an excuse for. Right now no one's going to question a Covid test....why not just use it like people used "my tummy hurts" (very convenient as you can't prove that it doesn't hurt) or "personal emergency came up." In the current world of various excuses to get out of things (MJ's hospital constantly has nurses calling out and missing their shifts), Covid-19 could become the new normal of excuses. (But I'm not accusing Ms. Mutter of doing so, nor do I know whether people have to show a positive Covid test to legitamize that excuse). I haven't thought of doing it, I promise! Also I haven't gotten Covid yet and don't want to get it! 

I'm not sure what the "new normal" in music is (likely some sort of mix of pop, R&B, and original song-writing), but it's unfortunate that it won't be classical music anymore. At the concert I went to, I looked around the audience and found about 70% of it to be senior citizens. There were some families in attendance (forcing their young children to come with them), some my age, and some college student young adults, but by and large the majority was over 60. I've also seen how these elderly audience members arrive: they come in big buses to the concert hall, likely as a mass migration from the senior living center that they are from. It's a little sad, really, the reality that seniors don't have much to do but go to classical music, but also conversely that classical music concerts have to draw from seniors as their primary audience. It feels like a whole generation of people are on their way out, and along with it the last generation of people who went to classial music concerts en masse. I wonder what will happen in the next generation to classial music....or maybe they'll be some sort of reniassance? Whatever it is, it seems doubtful that it will be a large orchestra full of strings, some woodwinds, brass, and percussion.......just not that much need for human performers at this rate, which is sad for me as a former violinist and appreciative audience membe. 

The Last Tourist

 After this past trip to Italy, I pondered what the future of travel is. Because MJ and I avoided the most crowded of spots, we missed some of the most iconic locations in the world (the Sistine Chapel in Vatican City, the Bridge of Sighs and Doge's Palace in Venice, but I just went home and watched a Youtube video in 4k showing exactly what I missed, and probably with a better view, without having to wait in a 2-hour line in sweltering conditions, feeling sweety and gross while being sandwiched like sardines into a tight narrow space while Covid is still raging in my parts of the world. I can pretty much see any public tourist attraction for free in the comfort of my living room without spending hundreds of dollars on airfare and lodging/transportation costs....so why do we even travel? There's definitely something to be said for experiencing something in-person, with one's own eyes, and say that you've been there, you were part of something....that's part of it, but I believe that many people like myself travel for the sake of traveling, to get out of one's comfort zone and go on an adventure that I haven't experienced before, to create lasting memories and to not feel like time is passing me by while I sent in my condo working, feeling like everyone on the outside world is having fun except for me. Also, time seems to go a little slower while on vacation, and there's a nice security box of memories to draw upon later on, so that I can distract myself from the fact that it's June already and almost HALF of the year 2022 is already gone. I relished the idea of waking up in a hotel room on the other side of the world, with breakfast waiting for me downstairs and a day of relaxation and doing things I want to do (instead of login to my computer and start clicking) awaits. This is also a first-class lifestyle luxury, I know, and I know how lucky I am even to be able to travel. 

On the other hand, I recently watched a documentary called "The Last Tourist" that argued that tourism is harmful, that going to animal attractions harms the animals by making them perform actions they don't want to do (similar to the argument against zoos), that visiting places actually makes those places worse off, in that everybody is drawn to the main attractions, causing resources to be focused on those things instead of dire problems of poverty and general living within the native population. Rick Steves alluded to this in his guidebook, pleading for tourists not to join large tour groups to visit certain locations on the Cinque Terre on Italy's western coast, because the coasts were just not made for too many people trampling over the land and taking up the resources. The movie advocated for "volunteer vacations," like going to different countries to volunteer and experience the natives' way of life, not just the flashy tourist cities and locations. After what I experienced in Italy, I have to agree that my experience, while enjoyable and exciting to see something different than my regular day, was dampened by the site of so many hawkers, street vendors, souvenir items, and just a general vibe of commercialims at the top sites to try to monetize the tourist experience, and tourists feeding into it all crowding into the most popular spots in a sort of tragedy-of-the-commons dilemma. I wanted to see the Colosseum, but so did everybody else, and the sheer number of people around us diluted the experience (there was a memorable guy dripping in sweat in front of us who made an impression on MJ's strong sense of smell), to the point MJ was overwhelmed by the number of people and couldn't properly enjoy reading the permanent exhibits and learning more. The Last Tourist argues for a change in the way tourists experience travel, and that tourists (the consumers) can shape how their travel will be through spending their dollars on locals and helpful (opposite of harmful) tourism. Interesting and definitely something to keep in mind for the next time I travel (likely after the summer swell subsides, and when MJ can finally get some vacation time off). 

The Americans are Coming!

 In 1775 Paul Revere's ride to warn the cities of Concord and Lexington about the British troops arrival made famous the quote "The British are coming! The British are coming!" more than 340 years later, MJ and I heard the phrase "The Americans are coming!" in the reverse context: The concierge at teh Firenze No. 9 hotel in Florence, Italy explained to us that the end of May is typically high tide for visitors coming to Florence and Italy in general, and that more than any other country, it was the Americans that showed up the most starting around this time through the summer. Instead of invading Redcoats intent on waging war however, the Americans that are coming are tourists with American dollars and oversized budgets who are willing to dish out some of those beaucoup bucks on the local economy. 

More than any other time on an international trip, I felt like an American tourist on our vacation to Italy, perhaps simply because there were so many of us that we overwhelmed the locals (in fact, this is an increasing problem in places like Venice, where there aren't enough people to work the stores and businesses to meet the demand from floods of tourists). MJ and I bought the Rick Steves Italy guide before our trip, and on several occasions I saw other tourists holding it out or thumbing through it looking for the next place to go. At breakfast at the hotel, a couple who ordered the breakfast package with bacon simply introduced themselves as being from "Texas." Instead of hearing the native language of the country all around us, on the train or at local attractions we often heard the undeniable sound of American-accented English, as if we were on an Amtrak in New York or baseball game in Ohio. (Not that we didn't hear native Italian speakers.....they made themselves felt by being particularly loud and animated in speaking, which I appreciate as a naturally loud speaker myself but also the emotion and emphasis conveyed in their conversations). It also hammered home the idea of a "tourist trap," where local vendors would try to sell things geared specifically towards the idea that Americans had money and would buy almost anything and with little discretion. Different restaurants in cities specifically catered towards specific audiences and were identified as "this is where Americans eat in Italy" or "this is where local Italians eat....." which usually came after typical meal times, after working their shifts serving Americans, they finally got time to eat at places that weren't tourist traps. 

My family never went on international trips (unless you consider road trip excursions to Canada or family-related flights back to China) so I always thought trips to Europe were more of a once-in-a-lifetime thing, not the yearly migration it seems some Americans have made it. College seemed like prime time for many students to "study abroad" (aka spend several months in a different country attending classes but also living it up) which I missed out on both in undergrad and law school, which looking back was definitely a lost opportunity. 

In other news, the Spelling Bee ended in historic fashion last night: a speed round! I never knew words could be spelled that fast before. Part of the "traditionalist" spelling bee fan in me doesn't like the added component of speed, where not only are kids competing on knowledge of words, but now on how fast they can articulate letters out of their mouths, but the alternative could be having an eight-way tie again last a few years ago......less than ideal. There's also the "entertainment factor" of keeping audiences interested and having an exciting finish at the end, like sudden-death in overtime; it's a necessary evil to keep the National Spelling Bee in modern times where the average viewer has a 15-second attention span. As one Japanese politican put it, "you gotta be sexy, you gotta be cool." 

Canals (运河, 운하, 運河)

 MJ and I just got back from the trip of a lifetime to Europe, stopping by the City of Canals......and then moving on to the City of Canals again......huh? 

Amsterdam, Netherlands was our connecting flight to Florence, Italy, and I was rather pleased to have alloted 7 hours between flights to just roam around the city of canals. Other than the fact many of Amsterdam's houses were tilted (how do they stand upright when living in their homes?) the most distinguishing feature was the intricate system of canals that criss-crossed through the city: essentially they ran along all the major roads and necessitated bridges to cross over them. I imagine a pain to plan out this city, but really idyllic to walk around on a brisk, cool Saturday morning. The city seemed hung over from a festive Friday night before (as evidenced by plenty of booze and cigarette butts lying around, something we'd get used to later on in the trip) and it was just beginning to wake up as we arrived. MJ and I were also just beginning to wake up after a long flight of practically no sleep (I was so caught up in the King Richard movie I couldn't get any shut-eye) too, but we managed to pass by the Anne Frank House, the world-famous Rijks Art Museum, and the appropriately-titled Van Gogh Museum (just all works of Van Gogh, all the time there). Plenty of college students and other twenty-somethings from America (indeed, we saw some from our flight) visit Amsterdam to use recreational drugs and other activities that run afoul of the law in other countries, but we did a tour of the city without needing to stop by the Red Light District or Chinatown. Oddly, there was a giant floating Chinese restaurant in the shape of a pagoda in the middle of the downtown skyline that seemed out of place in an otherwise European city, but aesthetically the city made up for it by providing large windmills, river views all over, and did I mention tons of canals? A geographic marvel of a city, an aspect of it that's often overshadowed by the drugs, tulips, and windmills. 

The other city of canals where we did a whirlwind tour was the city of Venice, Italy, where canals are taken to the extreme: they're functionally the roads of the city, as they take the place of cars and buses, trains....none to speak of, the main transit line is a ferry line called the vaporetto that takes visitors up and down the "Grand Canal." I dont' read romance novels or get sucked into love stories, but something about canals is rather romantic, and the gondola services are right there to capitalize on any tourists' feelings of romanticism by charging like 85 euro for 30 minutes of work. In Kyoto, Japan, it's rickshaws, in New York's Central Park it's horseback carriage rides, and in Venice it's gondola rides: overpriced entertainment to let you experience something new that's not necessarily that exciting. And the gondola drivers don't sing! That'll be extra to hire a singer to join the gondola, and even more to get an accordionist. I don't blame the city for trying to capitalize off its unique tourist-friendly features, but personally MJ and I were turned off by the mass crowds: our philosophy this trip, especially since it was Memorial Day weekend in the U.S. and tourists seemed to flock into Italy (especially students who have the summer off and who have been itching to get out into the world) was to avoid crowds as much as possible, so even for the biggest attractions in Venice like St. Mark's Basilica, Doge's Palace, Bridge of Sighs, Rialto Bridge, we resolved to just breeze by, get a glimpse if needed, and watch the rest on high definition Youtube when we get back home. My favorite part of the "Italian" City of Canals was, as various guidebooks suggested, getting lost on the island/peninsula, stumbling onto plazas and markets, and suddenly happening around a cool art gallery that was trying to get noticed in one of the art capitals of the world. The Peggy Guggenheim museum was just awesome not only inside with its collection of modern painters, but the house's backyard was facing the Grand Canal......so close one could jump from the backyard into the water. And there's boat traffic on the Grand Canal! Waterways are no divided into clear lanes, so gondolas ride bumper-to-bumper (or is it stern-to-stern) with private boats, vaporettos, cargo boats, etc.... all trying to make their way down the canals. Quite a sight to behold, and now we can say we did it before the whole city sank (supposedly not for awhile, but who knows?)