Baked Tales 1) I was sat in the corner propped up on a set of homemade cushions. The sort with big buttons that don't actually open. I could feel myself going. I knew the issue was having nothing to eat since breakfast; all that walking around drinking, smoking, talking to strangers in the sun. Every time I looked at someone I saw their eyes blink rapidly. One American girl, Kelly, who was a teacher and a sort of obvious unlikeable know it all only interested in herself kept looking at me, or else it felt like that. Her eyes widening so far that they could have reached the back of her skull. By the window, an effortlessly pretty brunette girl who worked at the hostel called Shannon was watching me. Whenever someone went over to her, I could hear the whispers of bitchiness as though someone was tuning a wireless from the war in my ear. I scratched my mouth, so quickly that I had to remind myself that I wasn't Spider-Man and could move ultra slow too if I wanted to. I began to turn my head but it hurt. Fuck that. My tongue sank hard into my mouth, so far down that it could tickle my stomach if I wanted it to and only I would hear myself laugh. It would tickle so hard that I could get off on it if I wanted to. And how I wanted to. Nisha came to sit beside me and whispered, 'can you feel it?' I couldn't speak but gripped her hand. 2) 'Fuck I need some food.' I grabbed my purse and asked if anyone wanted to join me. Shannon looked over and laughed. 'That was hilarious watching you just snap out of it. You didn't even know Jo was there. I was watching you for ages and could see you coming to.' I knew I had felt heavy. I had never smoked or tasted anything as strong as that. Nisha was still glazed but grabbed her bag mindlessly ready to accompany me to the store. The new arrived guy from Singapore hopped to, as did Kelly. She blatantly didn't want to miss out on something she had watched in an episode of Girls or something. It was making me cringe. As we pulled open the heavy hostel door, a handsome Dutch boy was waiting outside on the front. He said thanks for opening the door and went in. Without thinking I shouted, 'Stop!' He looked around, confusion and amusement spreading across his face. 'Well, who are you!' I declared. 'He's Moo, of course.' Kelly was halfway down the street but retorted nonetheless. I was unconvinced. Nisha was still beside me. 'We have 5 people for the tour,' she began talking to the stranger, tilting her head back and laughing, 'can I still come if I don't want to see the show?' Moo didn't even contemplate to answer, but gave a straight response and headed in the hostel. As we continued down the street to the store, I wasn't happy. Worry clouded through me, a heavy ink staining my insides. 'What if that guy is a robber?!' I declared. The three of them laughed, I was certain the Singapore guy just followed cue from the girls. 'Genuinely though, just then that guy was waiting outside without a key. He could be a robber and he's now rushing in the hostel to check doors of rooms to see if they're locked. If they're unlocked he could steal valuables.' More laughter erupted which furthered my cause. 'He didn't answer any questions. He didn't say his name was Moo, we presumed it. He didn't say anything precise about the tour - time, what it was... It was just an automated response. We let him off so easily.' The girls contemplated it and laughed harder, 'it's Moo. People don't do that.' Matter of factly, I resigned. 'If my passport is gone when I get back, and it's been edited and cropped so that a European sex trafficker can use it, then you both owe me a beer. Only then will I contemplate my return home and consult the embassy - at least I would have had time to think after a couple of beers.' More laughter echoed on the street as the automatic doors of the store opened; I didn't know what was funny. 3) I stood outside devouring my cheese sandwich. I was probably eating it like an animal but I didn't care. If I saw anyone recognisable from my reality then I would scramble together some manners. I stood outside watching people going into the store. There was a man stood beside a set of bikes. There are no designated bike racks in Amsterdam. You lock up your bike wherever to anything which is firm: trees, lampposts, fences, railings, other bikes. These bikes in front of me incidentally were tied to a lamppost. I gazed towards the man, mostly still interested in eating but I enjoyed watching him. He lingered over the bikes, then shifted his eyes towards the door of the store and the area around him; reconnaissance. A cyclist dismounted in front of the store and the man abruptly stood straight; he was trying to convince himself more than anyone about inconspicuous nature. The cyclist locked his bike in front of the door as the man watched with intent. The cyclist then entered the store and I knew that it was going to be the last time he saw his bike. The man shifted slightly towards the bike, and he looked at me for the first time. I realised that I was actually staring at him and was more interested in what was happening than my sandwich. I didn't know what to do. Watch a crime, try to help, or go inside and try to communicate in English and with large hand gestures about a probable suspect of robbery. I went inside the store doorway, convincing myself that I would be safe here because if I was outside there were two likely scenarios which could unfold. I'd either be trialled as a witness and sex trafficked abroad as a result because I'd given an honest testimony, or I would be knifed as the guy rode off on his bike, killing me before I had the chance to finish my sandwich and obviously my trip. The automatic doors kept opening and closing because I was standing close to them in the store. Nisha and Kelly were at the checkout now and my sandwich was almost done. I saw the cyclist come from the checkout. He had been so quick; I hadn't preempted this in my imagination. I turned as he passed me by and stepped back outside. The man was beside the bike when the cyclist firmly cried 'Hey!' 4) I was really apprehensive about the sex show. Not because I dislike sex, or porn, but because it cost €40 and I'm on a tight budget. I always get my sex for free. However, I knew I didn't need to convince myself, I was always going because I'm in Amsterdam. In the beginning there were 5 of us from the hostel that we're going to be a group, including Moo who worked for the hostel. As we were drinking and smoking, two American girls checked in, and Camila, a woman from Chile shouted, 'hey, girls, come and watch some sex with us.' They didn't seem to mind paying for sex either nor did Chrissy, an American who was checking in as we walked out the front door who also hopped on our cloud. We felt good. The Red Light District was crowded and lit up by a hum of neon red, purple and pink light. As soon as we started walking through the streets where women were offered to me through a pane of glass, it was though a curtain of velvet stroked my body and began to whisper to me. 'Natalieeee.' Natalie. Nathaalieee. I turned my head in every direction looking for who it was but I couldn't see them. Nobody else had seemed to hear the voices. I stared at everyone just to make sure. Some of the voices were shouts, from high windows where the lights were out. Others were coming from behind me. Some were whispers only audible because I knew I had cleaned my ears that morning. With every corner we turned, another person called my name. When I answered back, they stopped.
