The World Yesterday

Spring 2012, lacking direction and removed from all semblance of a family life. The desperation to improve my life and take to the skies. So when the opportunity arrised for me to travel to New Zealand with my father, I reluctantly chose to venture accross the pond and reconnect with my father.

The remants of winter allowed ample snowfall, greeting us with blankets of white over the terrain, with enough sun to expose the light touch of ice on the expanding fields and reveal infrastructure which would have been concealed weeks prior.

Upon landing, we were welcomed by organic courtesy and ectasy without facade. After awkwardly trying to find our hire car, we started the ignition and ignited our journey. Heading to our hotel, I was unsure what to expect. Stopping to view expanding vistas, fjords and an array of mountains, the tedious journey became a lesson in wanderlust.

Apon arriving at a mysterious lodge hidden amongst shrubbery, the tenants welcomed us, carried our bags to our individual rooms and informed us dinner was in a few hours. A three course meal awaited us with the choice of lixury items of what would normally be a chore of deciding between fish, chicken or beef. This was the beginning of what would unbeknownst to me, a new chapter of my life.

Noticing the excessive game mounted on the walls, the possum skinned pillows and the lamb in the courtyard being raised for slaughter, my heart began to melt. I slept uneasy that night. The next day we followed our itinerary which began at a farm exclusively dedicated to the raising of sheep for wool and meat. A pair of alpacas greeted us from behind the confines of their abode, much to the delight of the children on the tour. We were then taken up to the farmstead by the farmers lovely wife. The farmstead happened to also contain a cafe and a large gift shop decorated with animal wares. After some idle chit chat, we were taken to a demonstration of herding and shearing. Watching as the farmer beat his livestock, as blood dripped from their legs, where they had been bitten by the cattle dog, my stomach churned. Walking into the barn, we sat and prepared for an experience in shearing. The last time I saw a sheep get sheared I would have been too young to recognise what was going on. This time, I was watching with a mature and more aware mindset. As the farmhand aggressively handled the poor lamb and removed her wool, he happened to cut her genetalIa. It was now lunch and I was now vegan.