Pinotchio tries to learn to read

Chicago, December 2010 - Only ten minutes left in the time bank - the quota I allocate myself to reduce time wasted on indecisiveness over reasonably indifferent pre-travel shopping decisions. (For international trips this is usually half an hour: saying no to a new suitcase, renewing my policy on eHealthInsurance.com, hacking into my mom's account to steal frequent flyer miles. (This used to be quicker when the password was "Michael.") For domestic trips, it's just however long the line at CVS is. Also half an hour.)

I decide to go to Borders downtown, the one on Michigan Avenue, to buy a Lonely Planet phrasebook for Japanese. Only, Borders was going through "restructuring," which meant that the store was already in an advanced stage of liquidation. As I walk toward the travel section where everything was 40% off, things were not looking good for finding a Japanese Lonely Planet phrasebook.

Yes, that would be Bangladesh and Afghanistan, and below it, Kansas City and Charlotte, straddled by two instances of St. Louis. 

Hong Kong, January 2011 -  thinking back to the missed opportunity to rally a road trip or two, I justify to myself that it's ok, and that the true journey is the one that lies within. I decide to visit a bookstore to uncover the wisdom of the ages. For decades, Hong Kong bookstores shrinkwrapped everything: magazines, best-selling fiction, plush toys. When I last visited in 2009, it seemed like the PageOne chain at least, was loosening up. I'd flipped through enough of Robert Shiller's book of subprime revelation to sell Starbucks at $9/share. Hello Kitty had grown out of her erotic asphyxiation phase. And so I wondered whether there would be a natural progression toward the US/UK bookstore model of bringing in the sofas and coffee kiosks. In 2011, could the people of Hong Kong be trusted to spend money where browsing was free?

At least, not the Christians.