Bagsy
Used bookstores in used cities
I love visiting different cities, especially new ones. Who doesn’t? My list is short yet includes gems such as Seattle, San Francisco, Minneapolis, and London. While I hope that the world becomes less of a disaster soon so that I can add cities – especially European ones – to that list, returning to Chicago a couple weeks ago not only was a treat but also proved that it will forever feel like my home.
In general, there is a lot of value to vacationing in a town with which one is already at least well-acquainted. It is not better or worse than the novelty offered by a new city but simply different. Considering I lived in Chicago for four years and did my fair share of exploring, I know its neighborhoods like the back of my hand.
I seamlessly navigated public transit despite not having visited since 2019; the only time I needed a map was on my journey to the Illinois Holocaust Museum, as it is located in Skokie, a neighboring town I had never visited. This alleviates a burden for people who find public transit stressful. Fretting over which route your mobile phone suggests you take while trying to not look like a tourist at the train station is not fun. While many commend my sense of direction in these situations, even in unfamiliar places, I am not afraid to admit that public transit baffled me one day on my second visit to the Bay Area. Never the case in Chicago. Confidence lets me absorb the atmosphere, people, and view without worry.
Anxiety in a new place stems also from fear of missing out (FOMO). Because you cannot even pretend to be a local, there is pressure to take full advantage of every day lest you miss out on a cool site or opportunity. I try to avoid FOMO but unfortunately cannot entirely escape it when exploring an unfamiliar city. Chicago releases this pressure from me; I have frequented its museums, music venues, and neighborhoods enough that no major stone feels left unturned. This might sound boring, as if nothing remains there for me to anticipate. That is not the case. Experiencing live music or a new exhibit at my favorite venue or museum, respectively, still brings me joy, arguably more so for the nostalgia and feeling part of the community.
In my experience, where you grew up and where you consider home are not necessarily the same. I seldom visit my hometown for leisure – have not returned in several years. I do not regret that choice. Yet I feel as if Chicago raised me more than any place or person ever did. I don’t know when or how I decided that. I do, however, know a good proxy for this adoration: would I look forward to mundane activities in this place? The answer from me is a resounding yes. And that’s largely what I did on my last couple visits. Of course they did not brim with humdrum, but a lot of my time was spent supporting local cafés, lounging by Lake Michigan, and listening to music aimlessly. I even regret not taking a trip last year to Chicago so that I could “work from home” somewhere else. I would have been happier and saner.
Speaking of ordinary things, one of my favorite activities is browsing used bookstores. I realize that there are remarkable independent booksellers that attract tourists from all over the globe, but in most cases these businesses are not tourist traps but rather local treasures.
On this trip I returned to everyone’s favorite Chicago-based used bookstore because roaming Wicker Park without visiting Myopic Books would feel criminal. This place feels like a different universe upon entering, its ground, lower, and upper levels offering a unique world. Creaky stairs always charm me on my way up to a quaint reading room amid additional niche book collections. The windows beyond the lonely wooden table and bench offers a panorama of the always bustling Milwaukee Ave. No wonder everyone likes this place so much.
I hung out quite a bit in Andersonville this time around – definitely an underrated neighborhood. I wandered into a bookstore I had never visited before, Uncharted Books, which delighted me regardless of having walked away with a bargain. Uncharted Books prides itself on not only its rare book collection but also its dog-friendliness: Ramona, a small Siberian husky and rescue dog, is “queen of the bookstore” and its logo. Unfortunately, Ramona was not there during my visit. Just another reason to return the next time I am in Chicago.
At Uncharted Books I bought Republicanism in Russia: Community Before and After Communism by Oleg Kharkhordin for less than one-fourth its price from cheap, online used booksellers. What a steal. Both bookstores also helped increase my German novella collection. Local booksellers are great resources for foreign language texts in my experience.
Though I would not call hanging out in a used bookstore mundane, as it can be thrilling, I doubt this activity tops anyone’s vacation to-do list. But I find solace in living like a local here.