The Book Fair
When you’re slightly tipsy, how can you refuse a chat with a talkative taxi driver? I vaguely remember the last time was in Hong Kong. I had left a Bob Dylan concert early, otherwise I wouldn’t have made it to the Mount Davis Youth Hostel before its reception closed. The old driver asked, bewildered, why I chose to stay on the mountain. “It’s cheap there.” “It’s about the same in the city, there are hotels everywhere. Factoring in this taxi fare, it’s not worth it.” Indeed, the taxi fare that night was more expensive than a night at the youth hostel. ...