Tulip Country

“You like what you see?” he said, pressing down toward his crotch as the others laughed, all five of them now cornering us. They were drunk. Scottish men in Kilts touring Amsterdam for a football match and who thought that they can celebrate the win by visiting the Red Light District at the same time my friend from Canberra had asked me to join her.

“I told you I didn’t want to come here,” I whispered, feeling the tension quake through my veins, mostly from anger. People often think my hands shake from fear, but it is far from that, shuddering from the pressure of controlling and suppressing my indignation knowing that it might get me into more trouble. Read More

The Canterbury Tales: Kaikoura to Hanmer Springs

“Shit!” the Kiwi yelped along with the echoes of awe by the others watching when I successfully shot the clay target with the shotgun. “Have you done this before?” I smiled quietly, acting cool despite the pain in my shoulder when the handle recoiled back into it that later left a terrible bruise. It was exhilarating watching the clay blast into bits in the air over Waiau River, but also disturbing that – as a pacifist who has never held a gun before – how good I actually was with a weapon. Read More