“Fuck it. We’ll go to Yokohama”.
What could we do? We were in Shanghai and it was nice enough, fascinating in a cultural exchange kind of way, but I’d exchanged all the culture I wanted to. Time was running out and money was getting tight.
“I thought you said there was a boat going to Hong Kong?” said John.
Name: John Marsh
DoB: October 2, 1986
Place of birth: Hackney, London
Height: 6′
Weight: 13 stone, 7 lbs
Hair: Dark brown, nearly black. Cut short, wavy
“I thought there was a boat going to Hong Kong”, I said.
“You checked?”
“I was told there was a boat. That bloke we met in that bar in Beijing, remember? Don’t remember his name, but he said there was a boat. You remember?”
“Yeah, I remember, but did you check? Some bloke we met in a bar and we’re taking his word for it?”
“OK, look. I didn’t check. No, I didn’t check. I thought there was a boat. I was told there was a boat. What do you want? I was wrong. I thought there was a boat and there isn’t.”
“Fuck me.”
“Why didn’t you check? What am I? Captain Fucking Check? The checking monitor?”
“You thought there was a boat? How did you think there was a boat?”
“I told you. That bloke told us. They must have cancelled it.”
John looked at me. We were sitting outside the ticket office in Shanghai port. Fucking dump. It was probably posh once and it’ll probably be posh again, but right now it was a fucking dump.
Forget all those romantic ideas about faded glamour. There was no faded glamour here. It was just faded fucking dump. And it was hot. And sweaty. Everything was either yellowing or peeling. Plastic tiles on the floor, walls covered in “Neglect”, from the new Fucking Dump Farrow & Ball range. Blokes in sweat-stained once white shirts sat around on vinyl chairs smoking and bored. Their English was par with my Chinese and they didn’t give a toss about two English blokes looking for adventure.
There was still a part of me that thought this was cool, the part of me that was still in the white linen suit I’d had made just before I left England. I’d had two suits made, one white, one black, both linen. Kinda John Malcovitch meets Nigel Havers. But talking to these Chinese blokes, these sweat-stained, chain-smoking Chinese blokes… we were a long way from home.
“According to that bloke in the office there, they cancelled it three years ago.”
“They didn’t cancel it. They just moved it.”
“To Yokohama.”
“Yeah, to Yokohama. It used to go to Hong Kong. Now it goes to Yokohama. That’s where the boat goes now.”
“Oh well. Yokohama.”
“Yeah. Yokohama. You don’t like Yokohama?”
And that was that. That’s how I ended up in Tokyo. I was going to go to Hong Kong, but the boat changed its mind. One thing I’ve learnt in this game is to keep an open mind. Go with the flow, you know what I mean? When I was younger I used to say that life was like an apple. You’ve got to eat it now. If you keep it, save it for later, it goes mouldy.
**************************
That boat trip was the start of it all. Me and John – drifting on the sea heading off to something or other. Months ago, I don’t know how long ago, a while ago, I mentioned to him that I was off, that I’d had enough. He said “Yeah, fantastic. Let’s do it”. I didn’t think any more of it. John said “Yeah, fantastic. Let’s do it” to most things, usually if it involved a glass or a line.
Me, I was travelling because I was writing a book. Well, I’m going to write a book. I’ve got a great idea and I just needed to get away because life was too organised and formulaic. Sometimes you need to create a bit of space to do what you want to do. John, I’ve no idea what he was doing. Which kinda made him the same as me.
I remember the conversation:
“What do you mean ‘Fantastic. Let’s go’? You can’t just up and go just like that. You’ve got a flat, a job… things. You can’t just leave it.”
“Oh I said go” John said. And then… “Walk out the door, don’t turn around now cos you’re not welcome anymore…”
“And I’ve got all my life to live, I’ve got all my love to give, And I’ll survive, I will survive….
That’s kinda how it went, both of us in a bar, singing. And that’s about as far as I thought it had gone. Till the next morning. The phone went.
“You’re right”.
It was John.
“Bollocks. It’s time. We’re 30. What’s to lose?”