PERSPECTIVErnRag and Bone Shops of the Mindrnby Thomas FlemingrnI dislike museums, even good ones, and I positively detest thernculture warehouses of Paris, London, and New York—thernso-called encyclopedic museums, in which I have spent somernof the least edifying moments of adult life. I have waited inrnline, more than once, to get into the Uffizi. I manage to avoidrnthe swarms of gaping Japanese tourists following the magicrntalisman of the lifted umbrella, only to be trampled upon byrnherds of half-naked American refugees in their Hard RockrnCafe T-shirts. Rather than abandon hope, I do not enter.rnFlorence is Dante’s city, and it would take a modern Dante torndo justice to what his city has become.rnI cannot personally testify to the horrors inside the Uffizi,rnbut I have trudged wearily, from picture to famous picture,rnthrough the Louvre. Someone—I assume it is the Marxistrnminister of culture. Jack Lang—conceived the brilliant idea ofrnforcing visitors to enter through Pci’s ugly and discordant glassrnpyramid—a Chinese middle finger stuck in the face of Europeanrncivilization. The real excitement of the Louvre is thernstampede of children and tour groups running at breakneckrnspeed to see some masterpiece rumored to be only a halfmilernaway. I am surprised they do not provide golf carts: perhapsrnthese do not go fast enough.rnA poor hick like me waits all his life to sec the Winged Victoryrnor the Venus ofMelos, and when he gets there, all he canrnthink of is how to find Barnum’s famous exhibit markedrn”Egress.” The Japanese are everywhere, snappirrg pictures inrnfront of the “No Flash Photos” sign. When I point this out torna Frenchman, he observes that they probably do not speakrnFrench. lie is right. The Japanese swarm all over Europe tryingrnout their impossible English on Italian train conductorsrnand French waiters. In their behavior, Japanese tourists arernworse than the Germans, worse even than the Americans, andrnI wonder that the governments of these nations are willing tornsend these ambassadors of ill will and bad taste abroad.rnThere are many great museums I have not yet visited, but Irnam willing to bet that the worst spot in any of them is thernSistine Chapel. First-time visitors are always given the samernadvice by their more experienced friends: go fairly early andrnmake a beeline to the Sistine Chapel—do not even so much asrnglance at the various collections of sculpture and artifactsrnalong the way. Unfortunately, the same advice is given in allrnthe guidebooks that promise 15 European cities in two weeksrnon $50 a day, and when you get to the Chapel, it is more like arnhigh school gymnasium during the state finals. You cannot secrnfor all the noise.rnB’arlier in this century a noted reactionary declared thatrnthe only way to save civilization was to ban tourists. Note, herndid not say visitors, but tourists, people making an obligatoryrnround of visits according to someone else’s plan. There are, ofrncourse, tours and tours. Archeological sites in Sicily or Greecernare more accessible to specialized tour groups, but most toursrnoffer a McDonald’s approach to travel: the same bland experiencernreduplicated millions of times for people too busy to noticernwhat they arc consuming.rnOne of my Italian friends told me that tourists have occasionallyrnsued a travel agency, claiming they never saw thernlO/CHRONICLESrnrnrn