I was on a really fancy bus with wifi that took me from Bangkok to Chiang Mai when I got one of the most exciting tweets of my life: it told me about a street art tour in Rotterdam I could enjoy. Not the one by Rewriters 010, but one I hadn't heard of yet by Frank Tours Rotterdam.
Of course I wanted to join the tour asap, but that's difficult when you're in Southeast Asia. And when I came home to the Netherlands, the weather gods decided to send pouring rain to Rotterdam every time I wanted to go. Finally, about two months after I first got that tweet, the weather wasn't too horrible and I was ready to go - and I wouldn't be me if I didn't sorta kinda take you with me in this post.

Last Friday at 7PM I joined an international group at Hostel Ani & Haakien on the Coolsestraat near Rotterdam Central Station. I think there were over 15 people there and within no time I was friends with a girl from San Francisco - leave it up to me find my fellow Bay Area people anywhere in a split second.
The group made its way to Kruisplein, led by our tour guide Frank. He's the kind of tour guide you want for this kind of tour: he's not just easy and fun to talk to, he also know his street art well and combines it with local history and architecture in such a way that even people who've lived in the Rotterdam area their entire life (like yours truly) learn and see something new. Besides, after starting his tour company and setting this street art tour up, Frank actually got to meet some of the local artists, so he really knows what he's talking about.

Despite being with a real tour guide, a first for me in Rotterdam, I wasn't too sure about the art part of the tour when I joined. Most walls in Rotterdam are commissioned, no guerilla graffiti that made the tour in Ljubljana so great. And because most of these walls are commissioned by Rewriters 010, I was afraid I'd only get to see walls I'd already seen on that tour. Luckily that didn't happen. I soon found myself in a back alley I didn't even know existed, looking at a Lastplak wall I'd never seen before. The next few walls were ones I'd already seen, but they were still as great as the first time I stumbled across them - and this time I got some actual information on them, as Frank told quite a lot about the crews and their background.


Halfway through the tour we came to one of my new favorite places in the city: a multistory car park. Sounds weird, I know, but the view was amazing. As the tour had started at 7PM we had the most beautiful view of the sunset over the Rotterdam harbour, the skyline and, of course, the street art behind the Witte de Withstraat. It was an awesome place to go to with a tour group - and also a great place to leave some of my own stickers. You might want to keep an eye out for a sticker that has my name on it when you decided to join Frank's street art tour. I left them just about everywhere.


After we left the car park we set course towards the Maas. The tour takes two hours, so I'd taken something to drink with me. Just before we reached the next wall I decided to try the Twix shake I'd bought. Which was my biggest mistake of the day, because that stuff is freaking foul. This has nothing to do with the tour, but still it's worth mentioning because I don't want any of you to kill their taste buds with that stuff. So while I was not being too happy with my life decisions we saw another Lastplak wall on which my personal favorite KBTR can also be seen. If there's only one wall you're going to see in Rotterdam, make it this one. I've been there at least four times now (once because I had to take a decent picture and the one I took on the tour was a mess) and still see something new every time.

I was still not over the assault on my tongue when we walked to the last wall of the night. There was a lot at stake here: this last wall depicts a character from a story, and the first person to guess which character it is and from which story can win a piece of carrot cake. I can tell you from my own experience that the carrot cake is so worth it. It's really delicious. Not that I won the guessing game. No, I was being my usual distracted self and missed the guessing game because there's a Lastplak wall opposite the one with the character and on that Lastplak wall I saw Doodkonijn in real life for the first time. It was a real fangirl moment. Oh, and no, I'm not telling you which character is on the other wall. I'm not helping you cheat your way to carrot cake. Have a picture of Doodkonijn instead.


Once the guessing game was over the tour ended on the Witte de Withstraat. It's a great place to end a tour, because it's full of bars and other venues. Not my kind of thing, but still cool to see at night at least once. By this time I was also on a weird adrenaline rush, which seems to happen every time I get to see new street art. I was extremely happy, but not just because of the art. I'd met some awesome people, enjoyed my favorite kind of art with them and got to spread my stickers all over the place. It had been a perfect night. Sure, it was a little weird to be a tourist in my own city, but you get to see and do so many things you otherwise wouldn't. And if you're a tourist in Rotterdam, there's literally no reason not to join Frank on one of his tours. There's a free street art your every Friday, but he also does other tours in and around Rotterdam, both paid and free. This is the guy you want to go to for your tour of my city and if you do, tell him Envy sent you. So go win that street art tour carrot cake and make me proud!

I was gone for a long time this summer. You might have noticed it, that entire month of quiet on this little part of the internet. And you probably already figured out I spent a lot of time in Thailand. That wasn't the only country I visited in Southeast Asia though. No, I was already getting ready to tell you all about the second country, Laos, when I realized most people barely know that it exists. Seriously, you deserve a freaking medal if you can immediately point it out on a map and name its capital. It's a little sad how few tourists visit this place, just because they don't know much about it. Laos deserves so much more love. But then again, barely anyone ever talks about the place. So I figured I'd use this post as an introduction/guidebook to Laos, also known as my favorite Southeast Asian country!

First things first: you'll hear people call this place Laos, Lao and Lay-o. It's pretty confusing, but two out of three are correct and people will know what you mean. Laos is correct in English, Lao is the name of the country in its own language and Lay-o is what you get when people perpetually brain fart.

Laos borders to China in the north and Thailand in the west and southwest, just to give you a general idea of where it is. If you want to visit the country it's easier and cheaper (also a lot more fun) to buy a ticket to Bangkok and travel to Laos from there. You can buy a simple ticket to Laos' capital Vientiane or Luang Prabang, or take the super awesome slow boat. Believe me, you'll want to take the slow boat. First a van will bring you from Chiang Mai to the Thai-Lao border, where you can get a Lao visa on arrival. There you'll board the boat which will take you to Luang Prabang in two days. Some people will turn it into a booze cruise, but once you find the right people it'll be an awesome ride. We had ukulele jam sessions, impromptu Lao language classes and time to rewrite Niall Horan's 'Slow Hands' into 'Slow Boats'. It was pretty great.


Upon arrival you might have a serious culture shock, even if you've been to Thailand first, like me. Laos is similar to Thailand, yet very different. Laos is a former French colony and the French influences are pretty obvious in some parts of the cities. You'll see it in the architecture and food. I've eaten more baguettes and croissants in Laos than the last time I was in France. Speaking French won't get you anywhere though, because barely any Lao speak it. Which doesn't keep the French tourists from expecting everyone to speak French. Don't go for a quick 'bonjour' when greeting someone, it's way better to use the Lao 'sabaidee'. The locals will really appreciate it.
Apart from the French influences there is another thing you'll see everywhere: poverty. I think Laos is the least developed Southeast Asian country after Myanmar. France does help its former colony by subsidizing construction sites, but there's still a long way to go. It can be quite devastating to see. Everything in Laos is super cheap for western tourists because of the poverty. A western tourist is literally a billionaire there, as the local currency is virtually worthless. It's called the 'kip', which is hilarious for Dutch people because that's also the Dutch word for 'chicken'. Not a day could go by without multiple jokes about chicken coops, chicken farms and chickens in general. Anyway, a single kip is equal to €0,0001. Exchanging some money will instantly make you a chicken millionaire. Sorry, bad inside joke.

Once you've got your kips, learned to happily say sabaidee and have explored Luang Prabang, you're probably going to want to see more of the country. Plane tickets to the capital Vientiane are relatively cheap. Bus tickets are even cheaper though, but there's a good reason for that. It's only about 400 kilometers from Luang Prabang to Vientiane, but it'll take you twelve hours by bus. Lao roads are horrible, road sickness waiting to happen. If you do take the bus you can break the journey up by visiting Vang Vieng. The place is famous for it's tubing route down the river, and also for its past full of drug-related deaths. Not the place to be for a goody two-shoes like me.
A good thing about the bus is that you'll get to see the most amazing views. If you can forget about reckless drivers getting you pretty close to your untimely death, you'll love looking out of the windows at a landscape that looks like Ha Long Bay with trees instead of water. Eventually you'll get to Vientiane. Loads of people skip this city, but I think it's worth it to visit the Lao capital. That's another story for another post though. Vientiane was my last stop in Laos and I was sad to leave. Laos deserved more of my time, but I didn't have any more to give...


At the end of my visit I'd fallen in love with Laos. And you know what? I think it deserves better. That's why I'm going to blog about all the Lao awesomeness I encountered this summer. And now that you know the basics of Laos and my route through the country, you're all set to follow me on my journey in blog posts - or visit Laos one day yourself!

As the day went on (and all the bananas were gone) the elephants decided to go for a walk. We followed them straight through the jungle, up and down hills, through an ant hill (and yes, those bastards bit me) and eventually down to the open space next to the river, where the humans had lunch while the elephants continued their clumsy way up and down the hills.
After lunch we got into a riceless rice paddy with the elephants to give them a mud bath, which soon turned into a mud fight. It was glorious, despite one of the elephants pooping in the water.

I don't remember whose idea it was to do a jungle trek near Chiang Mai in the north of Thailand. It was probably my dad's idea, and any idea that includes running through jungles can count on my approval. We'd booked our three day trek at the Oasis hostel in Bangkok, were picked up early in the morning at the Wualei hostel in Chiang Mai and then... The chaos ensued.

The Thai aren't the biggest fans of systems is what I learned on that first day. I ended up in a taxi with people who were going to do a half day elephant tour, people who were going to do a one day jungle trek and Dutch people who were going to do a two day trek. Everyone had to sign a list, then everyone had to get out of the car except for all the people with a Dutch passport. There was no logic whatsoever. In fact that's one thing you'll have to accept when you go to Southeast Asia: there's not much logic to be seen.
In the end we became part of a group full of Dutch people, one Canadian guy called Graham, Louis from France and Julie from Austria. Of course the Dutch immediately flocked together and spoke nothing but Dutch, which made me feel bad for the others and the tour guide. I quickly became friends with Julie and spoke more German on that first day than in the previous six months in college where I was supposed to learn the language. Julie and I stuck together, joined by Louis and Graham. I enjoyed their company so much more than that of the Dutch people. Within an hour the group was split in an international group and a Dutch group. The international group was much more fun of course.

Our split group followed our guide through the jungle, where he tried to explain things. He probably would have done a great job if only his English had been a little bit better. He mostly said things like: "No tiger Thai jungle. Tiger barbecue!" We soon noticed he really liked barbecue, because he wanted to barbecue every animal we came across. "Look, cow. Cow barbecue!" With this constant commentary on animals we could barbecue in the background we went to a hill tribe village ("Pig in village. Pig barbecue!") and went swimming in a waterfall. Eventually when we stopped for lunch we didn't barbecue anything. We had rice wrapped in banana leaves. It was a very basic lunch, but the thought of it still makes my mouth water.


Late in the afternoon we arrived at the Karen Lodge where we'd spend the night. The lodge was in fact one big doorless hut, with a big front porch. I couldn't believe my own eyes when I walked down the path to the lodge: on the front porch was Chris, a Dutch guy who'd stayed at both the Oasis and the Wualei hostel while I was there and whom I didn't expect to ever see again, let alone see again in the Thai jungle. He was there with a Scottish guy whose name was so complicated that just thinking it makes my tongue break in half. Thanks to them the international group became just a little bit more international.
To be honest it was quite sad how much most Dutch people kept to themselves. It didn't get better when a group of French guys arrived. Dutch people on the far end of the table, international group at the opposite end and the French inbetween. Safe to say the international group had by far the most fun. Cats were hugged and accidentally kicked, Scottish accents were imitated and caused loads of confusion, we made loads of triggering jokes after Graham went to 'hang his stuff' and talked about everything we could think of. This night changed me. These people changed me. They helped me see that people who shut me out when I need them most don't deserve me in their lives. That every love is different. That a gap year isn't a wasted year as long as I don't let it. When I went to bed that night I felt happy, truly happy without any sadness lingering in the back of my mind, for the first time since November 2016.

The next morning I went back to being sad. All these amazing people I'd met were doing a two day trek and I was doing three days, so I'd have to say goodbye. Right? Or not? Again, chaos ensued. First Chris and the Scot were supposed to go with us, despite the two day/three day thing. Then they weren't. Then Louis and Julie would join me on the second day. Then they wouldn't. Then they would. And when the confusion reached its peak the entire group, Dutchies and everyone else, left together and hiked the same path. At a point where the path split, Louis and Julie were told to come with me and my parents - after Julie and I'd already said our emotional goodbyes. No one understood this logic, but as I said before, there is little logic in this part of the world at times.


So I spent my second jungle day with Julie, my parents, a new guide who kept shouting "oh my god, OH MY BUDDHA!" and... well, I didn't spend the day with Louis because we kept losing him. He'd walk ahead and then we wouldn't see him for ages. We spent what felt like half the day yelling: "Louis! Where are you?!" To be honest, that was pretty much all that happened that day. We gate chrashed a few rice paddies, slipped down a ton of hills when it started raining and eventually made it to the village where my parents and I would spend the night. There Julie and I said our emotional goodbyes for the second time that day. And then... I was alone.

Okay, I admit it. My parents were there and we were staying with locals, so there were people. But I was missing my friends. On top of that I was dying with pain thanks to an ingrown toenail. It's when I write sentences like this that I realize I'm literally the least charming travel blogger out there, but jungle trekking isn't all fun and games. In the end it was all fine though. Staying with locals is really something else. My hostess kept using my flip flops, the food was awesome and I got to sleep under one of those nets you put over your food to keep flies from sitting on it. Quite the experience.


One short night later my parents and I were ready for our last day. We'd walk for a while, go to an elephant sanctuary, then end the trek with bamboo rafting. So we walked. And walked. And walked. And somehow managed to pick up a dog along the way. Don't ask me why, don't ask me how, but this little stray do followed us for miles. My mom decided to name him Skippy. Everything was awesome as long as Skippy was with us. Then we were picked up by a car, Skippy chased it but wasn't fast enough and that marked our descent into chaos once again. You see, because we'd go to an elephant sanctuary the next day as well, the people who organised this trek had cut the elephants out of the trek program. After a furious phone call from my dad we were brought to elephants, but that's another story for another day.

The end of the trek was near when I was standing in the back of a pickup truck pretending to be on the Titanic. We were dropped near a river, where I climbed aboard a bamboo raft. Bamboo rafting is nothing white water rafting. It's calmer, you don't have to do anything except sitting and not freaking out when you see a water snake. It's a nice end to your trek, even though it doesn't feel like a jungle trek thing to do.

After three days in the jungle I returned to Chiang Mai. I stank, my toe hurt like hell and I was craving a hamburger like crazy. To say I was exhausted wouldn't be an exaggeration. My head hurt from all the chaos and broken English. But every second was totally worth it. 1/1 Envy Fishers would do it again.

When I was 13 years old I was completely and utterly obsessed with everything Japanese. Except sushi. Other than that every hint of Japanese culture sent me into fangirling hysterics. That's why my friends decided to give me a manga for my 14th birthday. The manga they chose: Fullmetal Alchemist. Little did any of us know that this manga would be the one consistent factor in my life for many years to come. With 27 volumes at €10 a piece, I had quite an expensive journey ahead of me. A journey that ended last May with loads of tears streaming down my almost 21-year-old face. I'd spent a third of my life reading about Edward and Alphonse Elric. It's the only manga I've read from start to finish. Fullmetal Alchemist set the bar pretty damn high on all levels. I tried different mangas, but they never lived up to the fullmetal standard. I doubt I'll ever find a manga that will. I've spent seven years of my life reading Fullmetal Alchemist, and now I'll spend a few more hours of my time explaining why you should give the manga love of my life a chance too.


For those of you who don't know Fullmetal Alchemist and haven't seen the anime (which was apparently a big deal in every country except mine), here's the story: after their mom dies Edward and Alphonse Elric try to resurrect her through an alchemical ritual. Their attempt fails, Ed loses an arm and a leg, Al becomes nothing more than a soul in a suit of armor, Now they travel their country Amestris in search of a philosopher's stone, which could give them their original bodies back.
Sounds simple, doesn't it? That's what I thought at first too. Trust me when I say it's not. All this takes place in a world so similar to our own, yet so different. There's automail, highly developed prosthetics that function just like real limbs would. There's alchemy, in this story a mix of European medieval alchemy, modern science and magic. There's the role of the military, recruiting alchemists as human weapons and fighting endless battles both in and outside of Amestris' borders. There are cars, radios and modern firearms, but no computers, which makes Amestris look like a formerly impoverished country that's just found its feet. In that chaotic environment villains with names like Lust, Gluttony and Envy (no you know where I got the idea to use a biblical sin as a name) work on their evil plan which I won't spoil for you. The whole set-up is epic, but that's not the only epic thing about Fullmetal Alchemist. The story itself is epic on a Harry Potter level. There are all these storylines intertwining, touching and not making sense until you get more information and see the bigger picture. Warning: if you take 7 years to read it, all these little things and connections will be lost on you and at times the story may not seem to go anywhere. If you read it in one week all the pieces of the puzzle come together perfectly, everything will be crystal clear and your mind will be blown. And it's not just the way everything is connected that makes the story so damn good, oh no. The story also touched on topics such as racism, civil war, religion and morality. It makes the story thought-provoking, but not too heavy to be enjoyable.
That last thing I mentioned, the story still being enjoyable, is mostly because of the characters. There's a mostly clear line between good and bad, accentuated by a few characters that are in the grey area between darkness and light. No matter which side a character you relate to is on, they'll have realistic motives. That's why you're relating to them in the first place: their actions are products of feelings and instincts that every human experiences in life, such as fear of death or the love for friends and family. This speaks to the most basic version of ourselves, our very core or soul if you like that word better. It makes you feel everything Ed and Al go through as if you're there with them. It's intense and awesome.
The characters are also undoubtedly Japanese, despite their Amestrian passport. Japanese culture shines through in their words and actions, for example when Ed, usually hot-headed and reckless, says things like: "Let's work hard to get stronger!". That struck me, a western girl, as weird. No one here would ever say that, fictional or not. It's a little difference in culture that I can appreciate and it doesn't irritate while reading Fullmetal Alchemist.


Now on to my favorite part of every review: the art. It's not for nothing that I compare every manga I see to Fullmetal Alchemist. This art is on a whole different level. Every line serves a purpose. Even in the fight scenes the images remain very readable, with one look you know exactly what's going on (unlike the action scenes from a certain Deadpool comic). What impressed me the most were the way the characters visibly aged throughout the manga. Arakawa uses the most subtle details I've ever seen to show Ed and Al growing up. She has an amazing talent for giving each character unique facial features, even the ones with a more generic manga-look. Different ethnicities actually have different looks, not just different skin tones. Put these characters in the realistic and detailed backdrops Amestris provides and you've got something you'll want to hang on your wall.


Apart from the actual manga, the art at the start and end of each chapter will blow you away as well. My favorites have always been the character studies in negative space. They're so simple yet so gorgeous. I've spent many hours in high school trying to draw these characters, but nothing ever came close to Arakawa's amazing art. She's a master.


Now I've sat here for a while writing this review and I feel like I'm forgetting about something. No worries, that happens literally every single time I get to the artsy part of my reviews. It takes just a quick leaf-through of one volume to remember I was going to obsess over the extras. I think this is how my love for extra pages came into existence, because Fullmetal Alchemist has the best. The funniest inside jokes can be found on the last pages of each volume, sometimes there's a comic about Arakawa's life as a mangaka or little insights into Japanese culture. During some slower periods in the story (they're there, like in every story) I couldn't wait to see the funny little quips on the story at the end. And sometimes, because the volumes are printed Japanese style and should be read from right to left and I opened it the western way... I spoiled part of the Fullmetal Alchemist awesomeness for myself. I'm not sharing any images of those today, because I don't want to spoil the ending of any of the 27 volumes. And speaking of endings: don't worry you'll end up disappointed at the end of volume 27. The ending is glorious, everything I hoped for as a little 14-year-old came true. It made me cry happy tears. Twice.

Now if all this doesn't convince you to start reading Fullmetal Alchemist, there's only one more thing I can say: just pick up the first volume. Just do it. You won't regret it, I promise.