Tho and Phitsanulok, seasoned, literally speaking, his comments on the pieces of sushi which Professor Andersen was eating, and which Henrik Nordstrøm had just eaten, and which made him remember different tastes from those Japanese tastes, the taste of lemon grass, coconut milk and fish from the Mekong Delta’s inner reaches. ‘In Japan the sushi is quite different,’ he said. ‘Oh, indeed, have you been to Japan often?’ asked Professor Andersen. ‘No, never, but I know that, because the sushi you get in Kuala Lumpur doesn’t in the least remind you of the sushi you get here, of course not, it stands to reason, doesn’t it?’ ‘Yes, it does,’ answered Professor Andersen, ‘but the sushi you get in New York isn’t very different from what you get here,’ he added. ‘Apart from the mackerel, that is, and the cod.’ ‘I haven’t been in New York,’ said Henrik Nordstrøm, ‘and actually I prefer Vietnamese and Chinese food, but you don’t get that here in Norway, do you? And rarely in the rest of Europe either,’ he added. ‘It’s only the name they have in common. I call that cheating.’ ‘I’ve been to Japan,’ said Professor Andersen, ‘for an Ibsen seminar. I’ve been to Beijing, too. For an Ibsen seminar, I’m a professor of literature,’ he added. ‘Oh,’ said Henrik Nordstrøm, ‘one wouldn’t have guessed it from the way you handle your chopsticks.’ ‘It’s good enough for me,’ said Professor Andersen, annoyed. ‘I manage to use them for what they are supposed to be used for, without having to pretend that I’m a native Japanese, or Chinese, for that matter.’ Henrik Nordstrøm began to talk about something else. About the attraction the Far East held for him. About how a person who gets attracted to the Far East is never the same again. He had done business in the Far East. Roamed around in the Far East, in a way. Been connected to Norwegian companies there, in the Far East. Which companies? He hedged a bit. ‘Statoil for one,’ he answered. ‘So you’re in oil?’ asked Professor Andersen. ‘No, not exactly that. Was involved with other things. Been a kind of supplier,’ said Henrik Nordstrøm. ‘Supplying what then?’ ‘Different things. Whatever Statoil needs. Arranged contact between Statoil and suppliers,’ said Henrik Nordstrøm. ‘Well, not on my own, but along with some Americans down there. And also some Germans that I’m in contact with.’ ‘Whereabouts?’ ‘Vietnam,’ he said. He preferred to talk about the mud, he said. The yellow mud in the Mekong river. About boat trips on the Mekong river. Sunsets on the Mekong. ‘You become different in the Far East,’ he said. ‘There isn’t anything mystical about it, it just happens to you. I’ll soon be going down there again.’ ‘Where to?’ ‘Cambodia,’ he said, ‘or Campuchea, that’s where things are happening, if you have connections. I can turn my hand to almost anything,’ he added. ‘I’m an electrician really. Or electrical fitter.’
Henrik Nordstrøm had finished his meal. He had requested, and received, his bill, and also paid, but he didn’t leave. He sat beside Professor Andersen, commenting on the sushi the latter was eating. And talked about the Far East and his relationship to it. Professor Andersen finished the last piece of sushi and ordered coffee. The coffee arrived, and he drank it, while Henrik Nordstrøm sat beside him, without making any move to leave. While Professor Andersen was drinking coffee, Henrik Nordstrøm sat without saying much. He sat gazing into space, evidently lost in his own thoughts, or stealing a look at the other guests, who were mostly Japanese, probably connected to the Japanese diplomatic legation. When Professor Andersen had finished his coffee, he beckoned to the waitress and requested his bill. He was given it and he paid, and then stood up in order to leave. Henrik Nordstrøm got up, too, and together the two men fetched their overcoats from the coat stand and left the restaurant. As soon as they were out in the dark winter evening, Henrik Nordstrøm stuck out his right hand to introduce himself. ‘Henrik Nordstrøm,’ he said. Professor Andersen gripped it with his own right hand, and greeted him in the same manner. ‘Pål Andersen,’ he said. ‘That was a lovely meal,’ he said next. Henrik Nordstrøm nodded. ‘But I miss not having a good Chinese or Vietnamese restaurant in this city,’ he said. Professor Andersen nodded and began to walk in the direction of the building where he lived. Henrik Nordstrøm walked in the same direction. They walked around the corner and entered the street where Professor Andersen (as well as Henrik Nordstrøm) lived. Outside the main entrance to his building Professor Andersen came to a halt. He took his keyring from his overcoat pocket and searched for the key to the main door. He felt intense excitement running through his whole body. Now, it was now he had to make up his mind. Now, right now. Hadn’t this young man almost latched on to him from the moment he had accidentally sat down beside him? He couldn’t flee now. Therefore he invited him up for a drink. Henrik Nordstrøm opened his eyes wide, looked at him in a friendly, but slightly ironic way, before saying, ‘Yes, thanks, I’d love to.’ Professor Andersen unlocked the main door and they went up the stairs to his apartment. They came into the hall and Professor Andersen showed his guest into the study, at the same time as he locked the door to the dining room. He told Henrik Nordstrøm to take a seat on the sofa. He himself went out into the kitchen and found whisky, seltzer and ice cubes. ‘Goodness, what a lot of books!’ Henrik Nordstrøm exclaimed when he came back in. ‘Have you read all of them?’ ‘Yes, most of them,’ answered Professor Andersen. ‘Do you remember everything you’ve read, too?’ ‘Yes, most of it,’ replied Professor Andersen. ‘Is all that in there in your head?’ said Henrik Nordstrøm, surprised, and gestured with his hands towards the bookshelves, which covered all the walls of the room. Professor Andersen nodded. He poured whisky and seltzer, and added ice. But when he handed one of the glasses to Henrik Nordstrøm, the latter requested a glass with just seltzer instead. ‘Oh, I was quite sure that you drank whisky,’ said Professor Andersen, apologetically. ‘I do and I don’t drink it,’ answered Henrik Nordstrøm. ‘There’s a time and a place for everything.’ ‘Quite so, because I was pretty certain that you drank sake a while ago, so that was why …,’ said Professor Andersen in an almost unhappy voice. ‘Yes, but that was then,’ said Henrik Nordstrøm. ‘Now I’d rather just have a little seltzer.’ ‘Yes, of course,’ said Professor Andersen, and fetched a new glass for Henrik Nordstrøm, which he filled with seltzer and ice. He was a little annoyed. Why hadn’t Henrik Nordstrøm told him that he only wanted seltzer when he saw that Professor Andersen was making two drinks with whisky and seltzer, instead of waiting until he was served the drink which was intended for him? And why hadn’t he got up and left when he had paid his bill at the sushi bar, instead of remaining seated right until Professor Andersen had finished his meal, and paid? He made up his mind to come straight to the point. He told Henrik Nordstrøm about himself. That he had lived alone in his apartment for ten years now. That prior to this, he had been married for fifteen years. He talked a little about his marriage, although he disliked doing so, both generally speaking and in particular to this young man. But he had to tell him that Beate lived in the same town as him, though with a completely different name from the one she had had when she was married to him. Now she was called Beate Beck, and he hadn’t seen her even once for ten years, because they didn’t have any children together, after all, therefore there was no necessity for them to meet, and they had been spared any accidental meetings. He asked if Henrik Nordstrøm was in a position to know about marriage at first hand. Yes, he said, he had exactly the same experience as ‘you, Pål, old chap’. Divorced, with a wife he didn’t see any more, even though in his case it was only two years since they had separated. But his wife also had a different name now from the one she had had when she was married to him, for then her surname was Nordstrøm. Now she was called something else and was living in Hammerfest. He mentioned her name in passing, and Professor Andersen took note of it. Professor Andersen finished his drink and started immediately on the one that originally had been intended for Henrik Nordstrøm, while Henrik Nordstrøm merely sipped at his seltzer. There was something about the young man’s appearance that he couldn’t fathom. He was about thirty years old, of that he was certain, but where around that mark was absolutely indeterminable. At first he had thought he was younger than thirty, he was certainly twenty-eight, he had thought, but at the very instant that thought occurred to him, he had looked at him and had thought that no, no, he isn’t twenty-eight, he’s more than that, he’s over thirty. He’s thirty-two, he had thought, but when he regarded him in that light, then that wasn’t right either, he wasn’t thirty-two, he was much younger. So he was probably exactly thirty, then, since twenty-eight was far too young, and thirty-two far too old, and he looked at him and thought that he was exactly thirty, but he didn’t think that could be right either, when he first looked at him, because then he thought, ‘He isn’t thirty, he’s either somewhat older or else he’s somewhat younger, I’m unable to decide which, although it’s evident that he’s either the one or the other, but he can’t be what I think he is at a particular moment, because it’s never right when I look at him.’ Henrik Nordstrøm began to talk volubly about the Far East again. No one here in our country knew what was happening in the Far East these days, not properly; even those who were the best informed surmised only a snippet of it all. It is now at a great turning point, where everything is changing and bursting forth. It’s teeming there. Everything’s being transformed. And East is West, and West is East, and never the twain shall meet. Billions of people. Billions of people becoming the West in the East, If every Chinese was to eat an egg at breakfast, the world would come to an end. It’s as simple as that. The world such as we know it, that is. It’ll happen soon. ‘When it has happened, these books can’t tell you anything any more,’ he said pointing at the bookshelves which covered the walls in Professor Andersen’s study. ‘And you who have all of that in your head!’ he exclaimed. ‘Poor you!’ he said, shaking his head. Professor Andersen felt obliged to say then that no matter how things went, he considered it to be an advantage and not a drawback that he had all these books in his head. ‘It might just be that one day it may give me a quiet sense of pleasure which will only be granted to a few people,’ he said, and that made Henrik Nordstrøm open his eyes wide and stare at him with his young, indeterminable face. ‘Well, well, it’s everyone’s right to believe what they like,’ he said, after he had thought it over. ‘But I like talking to you,’ he added, emptying his glass of seltzer and standing up. He thanked him for the ‘drink’, as he called it, but now, unfortunately, he had to go. He had another engagement. Professor Andersen got up, too, and followed him to the door. As Henrik Nordstrøm was about to go out the door which Professor Andersen was holding open for him, he asked if Professor Andersen had anything on next Wednesday. Because if he hadn’t, he’d like to invite him to the Bjerke Racecourse. Henrik Nordstrøm owned a racehorse, along with three other people. A three-year-old thoroughbred horse which was to run the first race in its life next Wednesday. Professor Andersen was perplexed. He didn’t know how to answer. He said that he didn’t know if he had time next Wednesday afternoon, he didn’t think he had any engagements, but was, after all, in a position where matters might suddenly crop up that required his attention, and which he couldn’t ignore. ‘Yes, well, let’s do this then,’ said Henrik Nordstrøm. ‘I turn up here at your place on Wednesday at 5 p.m. and, if it suits you, then you come along.’ Professor Andersen said that was an agreement, and they parted.