The weird and wonderful world of underground chess

Most people have a set list to tick off when visiting a new country. The national museum, the famous bridge, the legendary music venue. For me, no holiday is complete until I’ve checked out the local chess scene.

The habit started on a solo trip to Paris a few years ago. As a keen chess player — no master, but a competent amateur — I made sure to visit Jardin du Luxembourg, where chess enthusiasts famously congregate for games.

After enjoying some matches before dusk fell and the regulars packed up, I offhandedly asked my opponent where else was good to play. In the manner of a John le Carré character, he gave me a time, a name and an address. Intrigued, I followed his instructions and found myself in an empty bar, about to close, in the 11th arrondissement. No chess in sight, but when I said the name I’d been given, the barman shouted with delight and pulled out a board.

As we played, more people arrived. I had joined Paris’s underground chess community, and was welcomed in as ‘L’Anglais’. Our group moved on and visited two more bars, playing increasingly frenzied and drunken games of three-minute ‘blitz’ chess. We ended up at a nightclub, where punters dancing on tables made further games impossible.

When I woke the next morning, I was unsure if I’d dreamt the whole thing. But I had exchanged contacts with one of my new friends, and on my return to Paris four years later I messaged him asking for more chess recommendations. Within minutes, I was sent the name of a new spot — ‘Blitz Society’, south of the Seine.

To an amateur enthusiast like myself, it is heaven: a bar consisting purely of tables with chessboards built into them, each with pieces and clocks provided.