The Slots.2

The pretty young girl who had followed me into the toilet whisked past us.  I watched Fang's head turn like a gliding movie camera, his eyes seeking the perfect cinematic representation of the girl's form.  He nodded at Kazuo and me, grinning.  She sat down at a table not far from us in front of a large flat-screen TV.  She was with another girl whose back was turned to us.   On the TV behind the pretty toilet girl, there was a muted news broadcast of the riots in Guangzhou. Chinese men were jumping on Japanese cars and smashing the windows of Japanese sushi restaurants as an answer to recent political disputes about whose territory was whose.  The pretty toilet girl thought I was looking at her.   She was probably feeling extremely uncomfortable because I noticed that Fang had not yet pulled his gaze away from her.  I had to pray she wasn't camera-shy.

'I hope China and Japan don't go to war,' I blurted out.

Fang then redirected his fix from the girl to the TV and caught what was being shown.

'Oh no, no, no, no,' said Kazuo, addressing my comment.  'It would be very stupid.'

'Those people are stupid,' Fang said, pointing to the image on the TV of a young Chinese man ripping a cherry blossom to pieces with his teeth.  'I wish they would just shut up and go home to their beds.  Making things worse.  Nationalists.  Cocksuckers.'

'All wars are stupid,' said Kazuo.

'I don't think all wars are stupid,' Fang replied.  'Sometimes there are violations which need to be responded to.  And military action is maybe the only response.  But, yes, most wars are stupid.'

'What was the stupidest war?' I asked. 

'Iraq.'

'The Cold War.'

'World War II.'

'The Galactic Civil War.'

'My marriage,' said Kazuo.

We laughed.

But Kazuo was dead serious.

'Too many of my friends have a silly hatred of Japan,' said Fang.  'They always say bad things about the Japanese, even though they are decked out in Japanese styles every day.  The people my age.'

'I can see why people in China would hate Japan though,' said Kazuo.  'The Japanese did horrible things in the recent history.  I know all about it.'

'Yes, but that was many years ago.'

'There are still stupid people in Japan today,' Kazuo continued.  'I met a person from Uyoku Dentai, the nationalists, some years ago.  It was at a dinner party with an old business colleague.  The man started to argue with me because we'd begun employing a new Chinese company to build our arcade machines instead of using Japanese technology.  When I told him that it hadn't been my decision, that I was retired, and that it had been the decision of a new director in our company, he ignored me, and baited me into a conversation about the war.  I told him I'd been involved in the war.  He said 'No, you weren't'.  When I told him about the things I'd seen and done, he said 'No, you didn't.'  The only time he said 'Yes' was when my old business colleague, who had some right wing views, asked him if he would like another drink.'   

'Piece of shit,' said Fang.

'Yeah,' I said.  I chose to, as best I could, leave them to it.  After all, what could I bring to this discussion?  But another complicated perspective on what nationalism is and what it has produced.  From an islander from an island with multiple chips on either shoulder.

'That girl I was talking to last night was like that too,' Fang went on.  'All I wanted to do was bring her home and give her a fuck, but she was too easily annoyed when I mentioned an American rock band I like who are coming to China soon.  She got upset that I was focusing on an American band and not a Chinese band.  And she started talking about imperialism and things.  I was too drunk and horny to say anything intelligent, but she got upset when I said that national pride doesn't mean simply taking sides.  She left quickly with my fuck.'

'Yes, but that's just talking,' said Kazuo.  'And that is good.  It's good that there is an open debate, that you can have a talk like that with a girl in a bar.  There is no violence in it.'

'Look at the TV, Kazuo,' said Fang, pointing to the images that were flashing above the pretty toilet girl's head.  I decided to shoot her a smile in that instant.  She raised her eyebrows and went back to conversation with her companion.

'Yes, but that is the violence of a stupid few,' said Kazuo.  'Not everyone in China would do that.  Even people with considered nationalistic views.  There is no general idea amongst the larger part of society that all Japanese should die, is there?'

'No,' said Fang.  'But the agitation is there.  And people do use those words.  They shout things like 'Kill Japanese dogs!''

To illustrate this, Fang had raised his voice in order to emulate the rioters on TV, and the owner of the hostel who was close by heard him and came over to us.

'Okay, guys,' he said, in a reserved way.  'How is everything, Kazuo?'

'Everything is fine, Zhen,' smiled Kazuo.  'Nice talking here with my new friends.  International conversation in the international hotel.'

'Okay,' said the owner.  'If you could just keep it down a little, guys.'

'Agreed,' said Fang.

'Thanks,' I said.

Kazuo took out a pack of cigarettes and offered them to Fang and I.

'Arigato,' said Fang.

Bu ke qi,' replied Kazuo.

'Cheers,' I said.

We had to go outside, to a little den at the front of the hostel, as they didn't allow smoking inside.  It was mid-afternoon and the sun was shining again.  The rains were taking a break.  The street looked different to Fang and I as we'd only experienced it in the dreary fog of a pissy evening.  It was a narrow and humble little street that could have been found buried in the middle of any Chinese city.  The sun was catching only one side, the one across from us, and climbing up its walls like curtains unfurling to darkness.  A street-vendor across from us was standing in the entrance of his stall reaching his neck up to catch some of the glare on his face.  His wife was behind him looking at him like was a madman.

'Have you eaten?' I asked Fang.

He shook his head.  'I couldn't eat anything.  I'll get some snacks for the train.'

'What time is your train?'

'Five.'

'I'm leaving tonight also,' said Kazuo.  'Much later.  It will be sad to say goodbye to China again.  But I suppose I will come back again next year.'

'I wish I could visit Japan too,' said Fang.

'That's funny.  I like being in China, and you would like to be in Japan.'

'Why do you want to come here to China?' asked Fang.  'I would rather be somewhere else.'

'Well, travelling is important.  It gives you an adventurous spirit.  But you'll always find something to love in your hometown.  Even if there are factors that work against you there.   I love Osaka.  That's where I grew up.  But I don't come out of my home so much there anymore.  I prefer to stay inside and read.  I don't like to be around all the people of my city anymore.  Now, when I come to Shanghai, I love to be with people.  I like to walk around, and eat in the restaurants, and talk to people.  Meet new friends.  Like you two.  Very different from when I'm at home.'

The pretty toilet girl and her friend made their exit at that moment.  All I had seen of her friend was the back of her head, a spillage of long black hair.  A full profile now revealed  zombie contacts, a nose-stud, and a feathery beard.  Her girlfriend was actually a young male Chinese metaller.  He was wearing a Slayer T-shirt.  Fang was even more shocked than I was.  They eyed us with momentary contempt and then looked away as though we mattered no more to them than the air pollution.

'Oh, you're a Slayer fan, are you?' Kazuo asked the young man before they were out of our range .

The young metaller looked back at him in shock.

'Yes,' he said, weakly.

Both Fang and I were also shaken.  Kazuo was a man who was probably in his eighties.  You wouldn't have figured him to be someone with a knowledge of thrash metal.

'Have you seen them live?' enquired Kazuo.

'No,' said the young metaller.

'Oh, you should,' said Kazuo.  'Fucking awesome!'

The young metaller smiled.  The pretty toilet girl had a puzzled expression on her face.  They continued on their way.

Kazuo turned to Fang and I.

'Slayer is a rock band?' he asked.

'Yes, I answered.  'Classic thrash metal!'

'Rock music?'

'Yes,' said Fang.

'Ah,' said Kazuo.  'Thought so.'

 

The sun had just about rolled itself over the adjacent buildings by this stage and the street was a relaxed blue in the shade.  Kazuo, Fang and I sat and smoked and talked until ashtray succeeded ashtray and a mountain range sprouted up before us.  Faces passing us on the street looked curiously at the three of us deep in our conversation in the mountains.

I moved to dog-ear the moment.  And moments like it.  It was comforting to find these little slots in the day, secure pockets in this frothing world of hurried discourse, in which rational people could calmly discuss all manner of things.

 

_____ in Ireland. 

 _____in China and Japan.

 _____between China and Japan and Ireland.

 _____in general.

 

We each had another long drink.  Then Fang and I said goodbye to Kazuo and we all embarked on our long long long journeys back.