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Lost in Translation

'Go up! Up, up!'
'No, that's how I died last time!'
'On your left!'
'They're everywhere!'
'Eat it! Eat that one!'
'It ate me!'
'That's not fair!'
'I was definitely bigger than the one that ate me!'
'Stupid game... Shall we play again?'
When I was seven years old, this is what my lunch breaks looked like: my best friend and I would yell at her computer while playing a game called Fishy. My best friend was from South Africa and every time she visited her family there, she'd come back with awesome online discoveries. Fishy was one of them. The objective was to eat all the fish in the pond, while being a tiny fish yourself. My friend and I were terrible at it.
'We're never going to beat this game,' I said one day. 'I bet there isn't even a real end to it.'
'My cousin in South Africa did it. He said you'll get a message that you broke the pond.'
'Impossible,' I said. Little did I know that twelve years later I'd beat that game myself...

From Envy's Make it Happen List
#31: Play Fishy all the way to the end
Status: Awesomeness achieved

Throughout the years there have been times when I didn't think about Fishy at all. Sometimes I gave the game a try again - only to fail after five minutes of frantic keyboard slamming.
After eight years I still didn't believe what my friend had told me about the end of the game. She lied about South Africa more often, just to see how much nonsense I'd believe.
At 18 I came close to beating the game, but I got reckless. A big purple fish ate me and I swore I'd never play the game again. Until I saw Markiplier play and beat Fishy. The rumoured ending was true. I knew there was only one thing I could do: I had to play and make seven-year-old me proud.


My hands were shaking as I waited for the game to load. I was supposed to write a report on my trip to Berlin for college, but this was way more important.
With a splash my character in the form of a red and yellow fish was dumped in the pond. Quickly I brought the fish to the middle of the screen. I'd learnt my lesson all those years ago: lingering around the edges would get my killed before I'd gotten the chance to blink twice. The pond was full of enemies: every fish bigger than me would instantly kill me by eating me, even if I only brushed it's fin...
This time I had a strategy though: stay in the middle, run/swim from the big fish and let the small ones come to me. For a while this strategy worked great. It took me some time to get to the point where I could swim around and eat the slightly bigger fishies. Then, somehow, I was trapped in a school of big blue fish. I let my fish zip around the pond like a kamikaze pilot, my heart beating at full speed, my palms sweating. I slipped out of a very dire situation with a lot of luck and the remnants of twelve-year-old gaming skills. I sighed with relief - and got eaten by a purple fish twice my size.

Fifteen bad words that I will not repeat here later, I was ready to try again. Same strategy, different result. Sooner than I'd expected, but still after quite a long time, I reached the point where I could eat almost all the fish. It felt so good. I had all the power in the pond.


Within a few minutes, the end was near. I couldn't even move my fish around anymore, it took up the entire pond. Then the message popped up: I'd successfully destroyed the pond's ecosystem. Like a boss.


For five seconds I was very happy. Then I realized that my fishy had eaten the pond empty, which is quite a horrendous things to do. I felt bad for all the dead fishies in it's stomach. Yet in a way I was also really proud of myself. I'd played a game, finished playing it nonetheless, that Markiplier had finished too. I was basically at his level for a few minutes. Say what you want, but that's freaking awesome. And seven-year-old Envy? She would've beamed with pride if she could see me grin at a screen with a quite disturbing message.

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6 Fellow Ramblers
November 22nd: OMG I'm going to Slovenia! I'm going to meet Jerneja from Sparkly Kid!
December 10th: I'm so freaking excited!
January 17th: This is going to be so awesome.
February 14th: I can't wait till May.
March 5th: Almost almost May.
April 28th: Two days away from May.
May 1st: Shit, what if we don't get along? What if I'm a disappointment to her?
May 3rd: Well, no going back now...

From Envy's Make it Happen List
#29: Meet a blog buddy in real life
Status: Awesomeness achieved

There's nothing more exciting and terrifying than meeting an online friend offline for the very first time. So when I sat at the bas of the Preseren statue on Preseren square, I was torn between fight, flight and total excitement. Sure I'd talked to Jerneja plenty of times on Twitter and through comments, but... you never know, right? As long as the internet exists, catfishes and the chance of being stood up will be around.
One o'clock, the moment we'd meet, came and went. A few doom scenarios crossed my mind. My heart was beating like crazy when I received a text from Jerneja, saying she'd come a little later on. Mere minutes later, she was standing in front of me. It was the most surreal thing ever.

What do you say to someone who's never heard your voice, yet knows all your stories from the past years? Apparently you keep repeating how awkward you and the situation both are. At least that's what I did. There was something about the situation that my brain couldn't quite handle and that something was this: I was not looking at a picture on a screen, I was interacting with a real human. That switch from online to offline is not an easy one to make, but once I'd made it, it was awesome.

Jerneja and I went to get a drink on top of Neboticnik Skyscraper, talked about whatever came to mind, then took the first blog buddy selfie of our lives. I've got to say that it felt pretty awesome.

We actually met!! We're both real people! 😄 #bloggermeetup #ljubljanacastle @envy_fisher
Een foto die is geplaatst door Jerneja (@sparklykid_) op 3 Mei 2016 om 6:42 PDT

In the days that followed, we saw Captain America: Civil War together, along with a few of Jerneja's friends. It was my first time watching a Marvel movie with die hard Marvel fans. It was great, even though Slovene subtitles sometimes distracted me from the perfection that's Captain America.
Later on we took a mini road trip to Bled, where we rented a row boat. Now imagine that: two bloggers in a row boat. That's where the weirdness gets in too. And of course the selfies to send to our other blog buddies.
On Friday I had to say goodbye to Jerneja. It was awkward again. I'm not good at saying goodbye, mostly because I'm trying to contain my emotions. I couldn't focus on saying goodbye, I was trying too hard to think of ways to keep seeing my blog buddy and meet others like Kathie from A Sea Change and Kanra from The Lunar Descent too. I was sad to say goodbye to Jerneja, but so grateful that we'd been given the chance to meet both online and in real life.
If you ever get the chance to meet one of your blog buddies in real life, grab it! It might be awkward at first, but it'll turn out to be awesome.

Have you ever met any of your blog buddies in real life? Would you be as awkward as I was?
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6 Fellow Ramblers
'Do you really want to do this?' I asked on Saturday morning.
My reflection in the mirror didn't answer. She just looked at my dark blue tights and the big white star on my chest with eyes full of doubt.It was Dutch Comic Con day and I was going to be one of those cosplaying weirdos - if I could find the courage to leave the house looking like a gender-bent Captain America.

From Envy's Make it Happen List
#28: Go to Comic Con
Status: Awesomeness achieved

My reflection looked tired and insecure. I'd barely slept that night. Around 3am I'd woken up, thinking it was time to go to Utrecht for a day full of awesomeness, only to find out it was still the middle of the night...
My insecurity was killing me: I'd wanted to do a Captain America cosplay for ages, but now that I had a suit and an opportunity, I was afraid people would laugh at me. For a minute I considered letting go of the cosplay idea. Then I realized the acne gods had blessed me with an almost clear skin for once. That had to be a sign: I had to do it. Five minutes later I put on my gloves and my sorta-kinda combat boots, walked to the bus stop and didn't look back.

Okay, to be honest, I felt uncomfortable in my blue tights until my friend Alethea and I got on the train to Utrecht, where Dutch Comic Con takes place. Suddenly I wasn't the only overexcited costumed geek anymore. All conversations in our part of the train were either about superheroes, or about Harry Potter. It only got better when we arrived at Utrecht Central Station. I spotted my first Deadpool there and for some reason also the Blues Brothers. It was great, especially because my Captain America suit turned out to be one of the more normal and less slutty outfits at the con. Seriously, before we'd even entered the place we'd already seen the first piece of underwear peeking out from under a piece of cloth that was supposed to be a pair of shorts.

Actually entering Comic Con was a bit of a hassle. Not just because a few hundred geeks all wanted to get in as soon as possible, but also because every single bag and cosplay prop had to be checked. After what happened in Brussels, which isn't all that far away, the organization didn't want to take any risks. I can't blame them. It took some time to get through security, but with so many awesome costumes all around us the wait was pretty great. Especially when a guy dressed as Wolverine started talking to us because of my costume. At that moment I was really glad I'd stuck to my plan of cosplaying.

It was around 10am when we officially entered the con. After that moment I lost all track of time. It was like entering a parallel universe. Before I knew what was going on, I was dragged to the Captain America: Civil War stand, where we had out picture taken - in front of the Team Iron Man background. It's probably the most original picture those people took of Marvel fans all day: three Iron Man fangirls and a very awkward and unhappy looking female Captain America. 
The merchandise hall felt like my new home. I couldn't stop staring at all the awesome (and extremely pricy) merchandise. In the end I only bought a Deadpool and a Star Lord post card to decorate my wall with. Sure, post cards from places I've been are cool, but who wouldn't want to see Star Lord give them the finger when they open their eyes in the morning? 


I should probably also tell you about these little blue surprise bags they sold at the con. The idea was great: pick a bag from your favorite franchise and get some surpise merchandise. It was almost like a subscription box and since I just love those I had to get one of these. Sadly I ended up with even more Iron Man stuff. Apparently the universe didn't get the message that I'm Team Cap all the way... Alethea's luck was worse than mine: she got corn chips (I ate all of them on the way back home).

I spent most of my time looking at other people. The costumes were just amazing. Apart from slutty Mario and Luigi, I loved almost all of them. But I loved the whole cosplay thing even more when a girl came up to me and said: 'Your costume is so cute!' It made my day, it really did.

While I was happily watching other people look awesome, my friend was more focused on getting to a Q&A with Seth Gilliam on time. I had no idea who that was, but I figured I should go with her for the full Comic Con experience. I was not disappointed. I had seen neither of the two series he answered questions about, but he turned the Q&A into a real performance. It was also funny that Teen Wolf fangirls took the Q&A almost completely over before the Walking Dead fans stepped in. It almost seemed like a competition from that moment on: which fandom could ask the most questions?

After the Q&A my friend wanted to go to some sneak preview kind of thing for a series called Outcast. I let her go on her own; I wasn't interested and my social meter was running dangerously low. You see, I can be very social for an hour or two, three maybe. But after five hours, I really need some alone time.
I checked the merchandise hall out one more time, then sat down near the Civil War stand and watched Comic Con happen. That was one of the greatest things I did all day. I saw Iron Man flirt with a female Venom, Darth Vader kept dropping his light saber and even Sans from Undertale was there. Five Nights at Freddy's cosplays walked past me, followed by Batman and at least six Deadpools. Every time I thought I'd seen it all, another person in an awesome costume came along. It was geek heaven.

By the end of the day my mind was blown. I was exhausted, my feet hurt and I hadn't drunk a thing because I was too busy being excited, but it was all worth it. For once I felt at home. For once I felt like I could fit in. It was the best feeling ever.

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8 Fellow Ramblers
I was 16 when the third Iron Man movie hit the theaters. Even though I was still a newbie to the Marvel fandom, I was extremely excited. Iron Man was still my favorite Avenger and I couldn't keep my excitement to myself. My high school friends weren't too happy with all that. 'What's so amazing about Iron Man?' they kept asking. I tried explaining on several occasions, but they didn't really listen. To them, I was just a fake fan who'd seen too many Big Bang Theory episodes...
For a while I hid my inner geek, until I noticed that being a geek is completely awesome. I embraced it when I entered college, but a bit of the fake fan shame stuck with me. That's why I put buying a comic book on my Make it Happen List. I'd been missing out on something for years and decided it was time to make up for it.

From Envy's Make it Happen List
#11: Buy a Marvel comic book at the local comic book store and be proud of it
Status: Awesomeness achieved

Finals week is usually the worst week of the semester. I get bored, frustrated and annoyed, Especially if there's a three-hour break between my finals, a break I really don't want to spend with people who are stressing out even though they're well-prepared.
That's why I decided to go to the comic book store in the middle of my finals week. The comic book store is only 15 minutes away from my college and it's my favorite place in all of Rotterdam. My dad frequented the store long before I was born. He introduced my mom to the store's awesomeness and about six years ago, he took me there for the first time. They have everything: Marvel, DC, manga, every Dutch and Belgian comic you can imagine and merchandise from every franchise... It's like a little piece of heaven to me. Oh, and their bags are freaking fancy. They look like a comic book themselves.


I got to Yendor about once a month, usually to pick up some Dutch comics for my dad. This time I went in with a mission: find myself the perfect Marvel comic book, buy it and be proud of my purchase.
I'd tried before, but failed. It's easy to buy a comic book, being proud of it, however, is a different story. As soon as I entered the store, a nasty voice inside my mind told me: 'You don't belong here. You're a fake fan.'
I stopped for a minute and thought real hard. Why wouldn't I belong here? Because some mean girls labelled me a fake fan years ago? That's ridiculous. Maybe I haven't read every Marvel comic book on earth, but that doesn't mean I don't love Marvel. So I took a deep breath and started browsing.
Believe me, the pressure was on. Not only did I want to buy something awesome, one of my friends who has read practically every comic book in the universe was keeping track of me and wanted to know exactly what I was going to buy. Lucky for me he wasn't there with me, he was just texting and I simply turned my phone off. I still felt the pressure weighing me down though: there were so many awesome-looking comic books there, how was I ever going to find the most awesome one?
I had no idea where to start. Everything looked great. The price tags... not so much. As a sufferer from the broke-college-student syndrome I had to keep things under €20,-. I was about to give up since everything that looked cool was way outside my budget. But then I saw it.
Deadpool. The only thing I knew about Deadpool was that the kid who sat on my head back in May liked him a lot. The cover looked totally awesome and the art inside stole my heart. My high school friends would have called me a fake fan for this choice since the movie will be released sometime soon, but the great thing was: I did not know. I'd been living under a rock for a few weeks and I was absolutely clueless about the movie.
Long story short: I went up to the register to pay, slightly trembling and with a bright red head. Two minutes later the comic book was officially mine. It felt so good.

Let me tell you what happened next. I went to college, where I should've revised for my next exam. Instead I got to know the awesomeness that's Deadpool. As a result, I messed up my exam. But it was worth it. Completely, totally worth it. You know why? Not just because this comic book had me laughing out loud several times. Buying it made me feel good about myself. I'm no longer fake fan Envy. I'm just Envy, in all my awkward nerdiness. Another demon of my past had been slayed.


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6 Fellow Ramblers
I think I was 15 when I first had the idea to make a YouTube video. The idea for the video was silly and I just wanted to do it because it sounded like so much fun. I asked a friend to work on the video with me, and even though she agreed to do it, she was not exactly cooperating... And by not cooperating I mean standing in front of the camera with a look on her face that resembled disgust and repeatedly asking: 'Why are we doing this?'
After that I never thought about making a YouTube video again. Not until my best friend mentioned vlogging. At first I just laughed at the idea, but then I started binge-watching Markiplier's SCP Containment Breach series and all Superwoman videos and their awesomeness inspired me. I decided trying couldn't hurt, so I went out one January day and made my first video. Let me tell you, it was a lot harder than I thought.

From Envy's Make it Happen List
#13: Make a YouTube video
Status: Awesomeness achieved

I'm a bit of a perfectionist. My motto could be 'Als je iets doet, doe het dan goed' (If you do something, do it right, well, good, great). That's why it took me so long to finish this whole project. I decided to make a video in which I show why I don't do vlogs, by showing the most boring vlog ever.

I shot the vlog on a Thursday, the 7th of January. All day long I talked to my cell phone, feeling like a fool. At some point people even said to each other: 'That girl over there is vlogging! In English!'. People pointed, people stared, but it was worth it: at the end of the day I had enough footage for a boring vlog.
That weekend I wanted to shoot the intro and outro, but ended up doing a whole lot of work for college and Teenage Blogger Central. My plans were again delayed when I heard that I'd have to shoot a video for college too. My memory card doesn't have enough storage space for both projects, so I put this one on hold. When I finally finished shooting the college video, I was so glad I could get started on the intro. Little did I know that the hardest part was yet to come...

When I started setting everything up, I broke the tripod. The thing survived decades of travelling around the world with my dad, but the minute I decide to shoot a video, it breaks. I roamed the house, searching for a screwdriver and when I found one, I tried fixing the tripod. To my own surprise, I succeeded. All was well - for about thirty seconds. Then I realized my tripod wasn't tall enough. I had two options: make a video while sitting on the floor or build a make-shift tripod. I chose the latter and the result was magnificent.


About two hours and several giggling fits later, I was done shooting the video and could start editing. Not that I knew how to edit a video, so I just used Windows Movie Maker and pretended I totally knew what I was doing. The result wasn't bad, not bad at all. I uploaded the video and was so freaking proud of myself. I'd finally made a YouTube video.




At first I was completely sure I'd never make a new video again. You see, it looks so easy on YouTube. You stand in front of a camera, do your thing, done. In reality I prepared for three hours, wrote a script, took care of all the tripod trouble, shot the actual footage and then edited it.
The next day, people watched the video and actually liked it. Asked for more. Wanted me to make more. And since I'd had so much fun shooting the video, I decided to give YouTube a shot. I don't want to become a famous YouTuber (I don't think I could handle the hate), but I'd love it if you supported me and clicked that little subscribe button.

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'Calling a street "Ermione" is just asking for nerd trouble.'
'Yes, yes it is.'

From Envy's Make it Happen List
#25: Change the street sign that says 'Ermione' to 'Hermione'
Status: Awesomeness Achieved

It was a cold, windy Friday night in June. I was making a list of summer plans, based on my Make it Happen List. #25 caught my eye. I haven't been very active in any fandom since May 2014, with only two exceptions: Marvel and Harry Potter. Since my dad was reading Harry Potter for the very first time while I was making summer plans, I'd started fangirling again. This time I even had friends in the fandom who didn't mind fangirling with me. I sent one of those friends a message: "You up for some constructive vandalism?"
A few minutes later it was settled and soon we were making plans to make our hometown a little more awesome.

There were quite a few obstacles to overcome. First of all the street sign was high up on a lamp post. We're both small, so neither of us would be able to reach it. After a short brain storm session, we came up with three options:
1) Climb the lamp post
2) Climb on top of a bike
3) Ask a taller person to do it for us
Option three was voted down immediately, since the only taller person that we could think of had treated me like crap for the past couple of years. Besides, he's only a few inches taller than me and wouldn't have been able to reach the sign either. The only other person we could think of lived far away, so we'd have to do it ourselves. We just didn't know how.
We put this problem on hold and thought some more about the H we were going to add to the sign. My friend thought we could just write an H on it with a marker, but I disagreed. It had to be perfect, worthy of Hermione's approval (even though I think she wouldn't approve of vandalism, not not even constructive vandalism). My mom, who thought the idea was pretty cool, suggested tape, but that's be gone after the first rain shower that lasted longer than a minute. Sticker paper would have been perfect, but we had no idea where to get that. We did the next best thing: I made an H the exact same size of the letters on the sign and my friend would provide some scotch tape. At the start of July we were ready to go - and didn't even get as far as leaving the house...
A rain storm, bad timing, another rain storm, my birthday, vacation, even more rain storms, then the start of college and a thunder storm kept us from executing our evil master plan...

July had come and gone, August was history and Autumn was rapidly coming closer. Halfway through September I decided it was not or never. I texted my friend, set a date and time and when the big moment finally came... she was still asleep.
So two hours after the big moment was supposed to happen we finally arrived at the lamp post. We put my bike on its stand and looked up at the sign. It was higher up then we'd expected. Apart from that we were facing a problem we couldn't have seen coming in a million years: the people living in the house across the street were celebrating a birthday. The birthday party can't have been much fun: within five minutes an audience of thee grandparents and a toddler were ignoring the party and were staring at my friend and me, waiting for something to happen.
'This isn't going to work with all those people staring at us,' I said.
Extremely safe to climb on, as you can see XD
'Maybe we could vandalize the sign on the other end of the street,' my friend suggested.
'Is there another sign?'
'Probably.'
So with a little help from google Maps we found the other end of the street. There it was: another Ermione sign. No birthday parties on this side, not even windows with a view on the sign, only a mailman who disappeared right after we put my bike against the lamp post.
'How are we going to do this?' I asked. In my mind it had all seemed very easy. In reality, it wasn't.
You can do the climbing, I'll hold the bike. Way to many cobwebs up there. You do it.'
And so I climbed up on to my bike, balanced on one of the pedals, feared for my life, then reached up and saw to my own surprise that I was exactly tall enough to stick the paper H on the sign.
'Hurry, I can't hold this much longer!'
Only one corner of the H was stuck to the sign when my friend called out. She and the bike started to tremble, I started to lose my balance and now I was only halfway...
Quickly I pressed my hand against the sign, so it covered the entire H. One corner came off, but I quickly fixed it, then climbed off my bike in the most unelegant way ever.
My friend and I looked up at the sign that now said Hermione and burst out laughing. 'How geeky can we be?'
Later on, after buying ourselces some ice cream, my friend was looking at her phone when her eyes suddenly widened: 'Envy, did you know that it's Hermione's birthday today?'
'What? You're kidding!'
'It's her birthday! We vandalized the sign on her birthday!'
'That is awesome. So freaking awesome.'
And that's exactly what it was. Three weeks later the H is still up there. We now officially (okay maybe not totally officially) have a Hermione street in our hometown!

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4 Fellow Ramblers
Once every five years my country celebrates its freedom. We do that on the 5th of May, the day the Netherlands were freed from the Nazi regime, back in 1945. Some people celebrate this by organizing a parade, going to music festivals or getting drunk (this option is very popular as usual). Other people pay their respect to the soldiers from Canada, the US, Poland and other countries who died in an attempt to liberate the Netherlands from the Nazi regime. These people go to Wageningen on Commemoration Day, May 4th, to receive the 'Liberation Fire' and run all night long in a huge Liberation Relay to bring the Fire to their hometown. One of those people was me.

The symbol of our freedom:
the Liberation Fire
From Envy's Make it Happen List
#26: Bring the Liberation Fire to my Town on Liberation Day
Status: Awesomeness Achieved

It was around 11pm on Monday when a bus full of people from my training group left for Wageningen, a place in the East of the country, where the peace treaty concerning my country was signed. I was excited. It's an honour to bring the Liberation Fire home. Five years ago I had to hear all my dad's amazing stories when he did the Liberation Relay. I was thirteen back then, too young to stay up and run all night. At eighteen, however, I'm strong enough to be part of the team.
It almost went wrong before we even left for Wageningen, because someone had forgotten to pack his running shoes (no, I'm not making this up). After this guy had raced home to get his shoes, we could finally go. We travelled in an awesome part bus for about 1.5 hours. The way back home would take us a little longer...
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For some reason I always wanted to learn Spanish. When I was twelve I wanted to learn Spanish because I was going to Costa Rica and I couldn't go anywhere without annoying the locals. When I was fourteen I wanted to learn Spanish to prove I was smarter than all the other kids in my class (I really had my priorities straight back then). When I was sixteen I wanted to learn Spanish because it sounded really cool. And when I was almost eighteen, I wanted to learn Spanish because I was going to Peru and not talking to locals was still a no-go. So last summer I picked up a book and started learning Spanish.

From Envy's Make it Happen List
#9: Learn Spanish
Status: Awesomeness Achieved

It's been a while since I made something from my Make it Happen List happen. College was killing me, my internship was not what I expected it to be and I found myself literally burried in with homework on more than one occasion. However, there was one thing that made college awesome over the last eight weeks: I started taken extra classes. That doesn't sound awesome at all, I know, but those extra classes were Spanish classes. One of my long-time dreams came true and because I already knew some very, very basic stuff, I leaned back for a while and enjoyed the ride.

I find myself laughing way too hard at lame jokes like these
since I went to Peru. (Source)
The classes started with the very basics, which meant I didn't have to pay much attention during the first three classes. After all, I had learned enough Spanish to laugh when someone said 'Buenos dios!' (which means 'good gods') at breakfast in Peru, instead of 'Buenos dias!'. And while travelling through Peru, I also learned that phrases such as 'Pelicano kaka' meant a pelican could poop on your head. On top of that, I could already introduce myself and say how old I am and that I'd like to have beer and eggs (though I don't like beer and eggs). But when I had to say anything else, or order something in a restaurant that wasn't beer or eggs, I was at a loss for words...

During eight weeks of classes the sweetest Mexican woman I've ever met (okay, I've only met one Mexican woman in my life, but she was very sweet) taught me how to count to a million, how to tell all about my daily life and how to describe my family. I learned the days of the week, the months of the year and the seasons. I learned a ton of words and verbs. But best of all: I can finally understand people when they speak Spanish to me! They have to speak as though they're talking to a person with an IQ of 75, but if they talk slowly I can totally understand Spanish!

Learning a language isn't something you do in eight weeks. Nor in eight months. But I've finally made that one big step. I can speak enough Spanish to survive on South American streets (or Spanish streets, though I prefer South America) and understand basic conversations. There are now 406 million more people in the world I can annoy with my pointless conversations! I can read a paper (all those Latin classes finally came in handy!) and I don't want to brag, but I'm finally smarter than Dora the Explorer when it comes to Spanish! Admit it, being able to say that is totally worth the extra classes.

Stay Awesome!
PS. I couldn't resist adding this lame llama joke to the post.
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It's 2014. I'm at home, watching tv with my parents. The Christmas tree is full of ornaments and lights, presents lie around it, waiting for us to unwrap them. Everything is fine, everything will stay fine and we'll celebrate Christmas this way for many, many years.

December 1914. Another time, another place. It's cold in the trenches, bombs are falling everywhere and the Christmas spirit won't come to Europe this year. The soldiers on both fronts thought they'd be home by now. They thought the Great War would be fun and brief. They couldn't have been more wrong.
Back home their families wait for them, knowing they won't see their brothers, fathers and sons home this Christmas. Or next Christmas. Maybe theyear after that. Maybe not until Christmas 1918. Probably they'll never see them again...

The First World War fascinates me. It's the war that changed the essence of war itself. The Netherlands were completely neutral during this war, but less than 100km to the South, the Belgians were having a rough time. The Western front was very close the the town of Ypres. At the end of the war, there was very little left of this place.
Since it's exactly 100 years ago that the First World War started, I wanted to go to Ypres, where the fallen soldiers of this war are remembered every single day. I wanted to witness this ritual, and when I finally did, I was overwhelmed by the raw reality of the scars that WW I left on the face of Western Europe.

From Envy's Make it Happen List
#22: Witness "The Last Post" in Ypres, Belgium
Status: Awesomeness Achieved

I went to Ypres in October with my parents. We arrived there on a beautiful Autumn day. It was strange to see how peaceful the place is now, considering the tragedies that took place there just a century ago.
We went to the Menenpoort. This gate doesn't look very special on the outside. The inside, however, is covered with over 50.000 names of fallen soldiers whose bodies were never found. It's here, within the walls of this gat, that "The Last Post" ceremony takes place every night.

I read some of the names written on the inside of the gate. The lists were endless. The soldiers came from all over the world. Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, Belgium of course...
I couldn't imagine how many people's bodies were never found.
There were Fishers there too. I'm probably not related to any of them, but suddenly the First World War came very, very close. 



That night my parents and I joined the gigantic mass that went to the Menepoort for the Ceremony. Even though we came early the gate was almost too crowded to get in. I sneaked in somehow, wriggled my way towards the middle of the mass. We stood there, packed together so tightly that I couldn't see a thing. Then the sound of a single trumpet pierced the skies and everyone became quiet.

Many people snapped away with their cameras during the entire ceremony. I didn't. I listened to the trumpets, read the names written on the walls. And then it happened. Call me crazy, but...
I had goosebumps all over my body when I closed my eyes for a second. It was like all those soldiers whose names were written on the walls marched through the Menenpoort. The feeling didn't subside until the trumpet stopped blaring. Children put poppies down beneath one of the lists with names. Then the trumpet started again, and all those dead soldiers marched out of the city again. It was a warm night, but I was chilled to the bone as the moments went by while I couldn't help but feel the presence of the fallen...

Never forget the ones who died for your freedom. Respect them, honour them, like they do in Ypres. It's the least you can do to stay awesome.
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'So, you're Dutch?'
'Yup, 100% Dutch.'
'Awesome. Nice country. You must have seen it all, right? I mean, it's so small. Been to the Anne Frank House?'
'Ummm... no.'
'The Keukenhof?'
'No.'
'The mills at Kinderdijk?'
'No, I'm sorry.'
'The Euromast then?'
'Nope...'
'Oh. Well then, how about...'
'I'm sorry, but I'm afraid not.'
Ever found yourself in a conversation like that? It seems to be a global phenomenon: we travel the entire world, see the most beautiful parts of every continent, but when it comes to our homecountry, the most interesting thing we've seen is the supermarket. Sad but true. And so not going to happen to me anymore!

From Envy's Make it Happen List
#16: Go to a 'tourist trap' in my own country
Status: Awesomeness Achieved

It's a shame that we often neglect our own country's beauty. So seeing one of those places that all the tourists are raving about became one of my goals. But the Anne Frank House is all the way over in Amsterdam, the Keukenhof is closed this time of the year, the Euromast is close to home but way too expensive for a girl living on student loans. The mills at Kinderdijk are just a few kilometers away and very cheap, but if you've seen one old Dutch mill, you've seen them all. And believe me, I've seen a lot of old Dutch mills in my life.
There wasn't much left. Or so I thought. Because I'd forgotten all about Rotterdam's brand new tourist trap: the Markthal.
And thus I went to the Markthal, which is literally a hall with a market in it. I'm not a big fan of the architecture, it reminds me way too much of one of the monsters from Monsters University. The inside is stunning - if Where's Waldo is one of your favorite books. The entire thing is covered with a mural of everything you can buy on the market from fish to flowers to peppers.
Still I love the Markthal. It's superhot inside, so you don't need to wear a jacket, even when it's midwinter. You can buy every kind of food you can imagine. There's an Asian supermarket and a foodstand that sells Australian barramundi! There are miniature donuts and cupcales. There's ice cream and delicious Japanese food... It's heaven for food lovers. If you're ever in Rotterdam, go to the Markthal.
The place was crowded with tourists from all over the world and there are tons of cute little stands to check out. A few of them even have a terrace on top, so you can take a better look at the ceiling and the ginormous crowds.

So I was walking around there with my parents - when they decided they'd seen enough. 'It's a market in a hall, just like in Peru.' And to be honest, that's true, it's like the Peruvian market with tastier food and less organs from animals for sale. It's not that special. Nevertheless, it's an awesome place. Maybe I'll go back and do some Markthal food reviews soon!

Stay Awesome!
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'Be kinder than necessary, to all you meet.' My uncle Mike wrote that in every e-mail he sent us. I never fully realized what those words meant, until I found myself in a situation were there was barely any kindness at all. That place was called high school.
As soon as I left the place, I started wondering what it would've been like if we'd been kinder ot eachother. I wrote my Make it Happen list with this in mind, I wanted to do something for someone else just because I could. I started out with small things. I helped people find their way, held doors open, you know the stuff. Tiny gestures of kindness. But then I got the chance to do something big.

From Envy's Make it Happen List
#12: Lend a stranger a helping hand whenever you can
Status: Awesomeness Achieved

Right after I graduated, I did some volunteering at a local vegetable garden, right next to a retirement home. The people who lived there reminded me of my own Grandma, who never fully recovered after spending some time in hospital at the beginning of this year. My Grandma doesn't go out anymore, not even to do some groceries. But when my Granddad drags her to the park, she enjoys every second of it. The same seemed to be true for the elderly people in the retirement home.
That made me think: what if I could do something to encourage the people from the retirement home to come out more often? 
I did some research, asked people here and there for advice and found out about a Dutch organisation called 'Ik ben geweldig'. The words 'Ik ben geweldig' are Dutch for 'I am awesome'. The main goal of this organisation is to encourage Dutch people under 24 to do something good for someone else. You have to fill in a form, explain your idea and if they like it, they fund your project up till €1000. So if you're Dutch and you've got a great idea, get your lazy ass moving and head to their website by clicking this link!

I doubted a lot about actually applying for this charity money. In the end, I just did it, because time was running out. I wanted to organize a high tea for the old people right next to their retirement home, in the vegetable garden, but doing that in October is not a good idea. I also wanted to plant a lot of flower bulbs, so the old people would be reminded of the high tea every time they look out of their window next Spring.
So I filled in the forms, had conversations over the phone and organized the whole thins within weeks. I didn't do everything all by myself though. My friend Rosanne helped by designing flyers and a social worker named Ellen gave me advice on how to do certain things and which things I could delegate, since I was also starting college around the same time.
A woman who also volunteers at the vegetable garden. gave me advice on what flowersto buy. At certain moments I was desperate, frustrated and scared, but it was amazing to see it all come together on September 19th.

Giving instructions to volunteers

Old people can be awesome too! You wouldn't believe how amazing
one of these men at the table was at playing the harmonica!
Oldies chilling out in the front, me freaking out in the back (stress!)

It was good to be able to do so much for these people. A lot of people asked me if I wanted to volunteer more often. I declined. Over the past few months I've lend a lot of strangers a helping hand: the elderly people from the retirement home, Belgian tourist who were lost in Rotterdam and handicapped people who had trouble getting in and out of stores. Now I need to focus on college. The only place I'll be volunteering is Teenage Blogger Central, but whenever I see someone struggling, I'll gladly help them out. After doing this, I felt like I could say I've made another thing from my list happen, but I'll never be truly done with this one. The world needs more kindness and this is my way of trying to achieve that.

Stay awesome, guys!

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Some time back I felt like dancing. I must have been six or seven. All the girls in my class were in ballet and I wasn't. But one day I felt like dancing and I just did something. Nothing serious, nothing ballet-like. I just went with the rythm in my head.
I was laughed at. I looked stupid, they told me. What I was doing wasn't gracious enough and thus I deserved to be laughed at.
Years later I was listening to the radio during art class and I was moving my head and arms a bit. Once again I was laughed at, this time because I wasn't doing the same thing as the girls next to me. I did what felt right, but it wasn't right according to others and thus I deserved to be laughed at. I never danced again without being overly aware of my weirdly flapping arms.

From Envy's Make it Happen List
#3: Dance with someone without feeling ashamed of my spastic moves
Status: Awesomeness Achieved

As you might know by now, I made a list of things I wanted to do for various reasons. This was one of the things I wanted to do because I never knew what it was like to be carefree while dancing. I got superclose to achieving this goal at prom, until T. realized with whom he was dancing.
Then I went to Peru, a place which was perfect to get some Make it Happen things done. Because in a rural town called Chivay, I was able to cross another one off my list.

In Chivay we went to a restaurant to eat guinea pig. Our tour guide had chosen the restaurant because the served guinea pig (except the night we were there) and also because of the live entertainment. Every night there was a dance performance. We were strictly forbidden to join the dancers. No matter how often they'd ask us, we had to say 'no', because if we went dancing we'd probably pass out because of the altitude. I was so disappointed at that moment.
But that night, as we were eating, our tour guide was suddenly up there dancing with one of the dancers. We all laughed and joked that he was a hypocrite. The dancers the asked other people from our group to join, but everyone refused. Everyone except me.
Suddenly I was dancing some traditional Peruvian dance with some cute Peruvian guy. I enjoyed it so much. Even when I had to dress up as a dude as part of the dance. 
Sometimes all you have to do is to DON'T GIVE A SHIT
I laughed and danced and laughed some more. I got dizzy but didn't pass out. Everyone said I did so well and that it was so nice of me to go dancing when I finally sat down to eat something. Everyone said so, but when they were asked, they all said 'no'. The dancer I'd danced with asked everyone at our table and everyone refused. I felt sorry for him and danced with him again.
I don't always dance, but when I do it looks chaotic :)
I think I did well that night. I overcame one of my fears, I didn't feel ashamed, not even a second, and had a great night. Since that day I've danced a lot more. You can now regularly see me dancing around the room with the radio turned up so loud you might go deaf. The spastic moves will never improve but the enjoyment I get out of them has skyrocketed!
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Sometimes you stumble upon an opportunity you just can't ignore. And it might not be exactly what you wanted, but at that moment it's the closest you'll get. So when I got the chance to go sandboarding, the closest I've ever come to actual snowboarding, I grabbed it with both hands and refused to let go.

From Envy's Make it Happen List
#10: Go snowboarding
Status: Awesomeness Almost Achieved

In the middle of the Peruvian desert lies the Huacachina oasis. The place itself is one big tourist trap but the sand dunes all around it are almost completely deserted.
As soon as we arrived there and dumped our luggage in our hotel room, my Dad and I grabbed some sandboards and wax and went to the 'newbie slope'. Our tourguide had advised us no to stand up on the board. At first we followed his advise but to be honest, it became boring pretty quik.
My Dad was the first to try to stand up. It didn't seem like a great idea to me. He hugged a tree just to keep himself from falling. When he did let go of that poor tree, he slid for about 1.5 meters and fell down. Tried again, fell down. Some Peruvian girls, who were watching us, couldn't stop laughing.
I wanted to know what it was like to stand on the board, to slide down a sand dune. Deep down inside I couldn't help thinking that I was going to fall and break a leg. I tried not to think about it too much as I fastened the straps around my ankles. Then I realized I had no way to get up. No tree to hug, no Dad to pull me up. Just those Peruvian tourists. I waved and waved at them until the were convinced that I either needed help or was just a complete retard. Anyway, one of the girls helped me up. She had a grin on her face, expected me to fall down just like my Dad. But as she led go of my hand and I started to slide down the dune, I noticed that keeping my balance wasn't as difficult as I'd expected. I only fell when the slope unexpectedly flattened out. On my second run I even started to make some curves!
Of course I fell a few time, but considering I've never stood on a snowboard or skis in my entire life, I think I did extremely well. This only made me more determined to go snowboarding soon.
Oh, and just for laughs: here are the pictures of my falls ;)


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From Envy's Make it Happen List
#6: See Machu Picchu
Status: Awesomeness achieved

When told to write a paper in 5th grade, most kids in my class chose their dog, cat or pet unicorn as a topic. Well, maybe not the pet unicorn, they weren't that awesome, but you get the idea. I, on the other hand, chose to be nerdy: I wrote about the Inca's. That way I learned about the forgotten city of Machu Picchu. Right on the spot, ten year old me decided that, no matter what it would take, I would be in Machu Picchu one day. Eight years later, I made my dream come true. But it was an ordeal to make it happen...

Day 1: When it still seemed fun
Alarm set to: 4.15 am
Distance walked: 12km
The Camino Inka, or Inka Trail, is a four day trek from Ollantaytambo to Machu Picchu. Forthy-three kilometers, all ancient Inka roads, past archeological sites, through subtropical forests, over mountain passes and through Andean valleys. Only 500 people per day are allowed on the trail, which sounds like a lot, but includes guides and porters. About one in three people on the trail is an actual tourist. It's a privilege to be on the trail.

We were picked up from the hotel at 5am, then brought by bus to the starting point near Ollantaytambo. At 7am my parents, our guide Bonnet and I crossed the start line and started our epic journey to Machu Picchu. It's quite a story to tell, but most of it is for later. The first day was all fun and games, especially compared to the days that followed. We walked only 12km that first day, with lots of breaks to take pictures. Bonnet told us about the vegetation, Inka history, local wildlife and just about everything else. She was a great guide.
I was happily walking wherever the road would take me. I jumped away for unexpected motorcycles, said buenos dias to the porters and had a great time. It got even better when we stopped for lunch. Our porters had already set up camp and the cook had made us a three course lunch. After lunch like that, I felt like I could do anything.
Just you average three course lunch with my goofy looking Dad
The last few kilometers of the day were the hardest. My legs were tired, I was tired, everyone was tired. The last kilometer to our camp for the night was uphill. Terrible. Somehow I made it. Without looking at the camp, I sat down on a rock and almost fell asleep.
Camp turned out to be a patch of land full of chickens, with a French toilet (aka a hole in the ground). After a long day of walking, it looked like heaven to me.

That night I didn't eat much at dinner and went to bed early. I didn't worry about it - after all I had walked 12k at an altitude we can't even imagine in the Netherlands. I went to sleep and, just like Bonnet had assured me, I slept like a baby.

Day 2: Never eat Chinese food in Peru
Alarm set to: 5am
Distance walked: 9km
Can you imagine doing this for a living?
In the middle of the night my stomach woke me up with some bad news. I had to throw up, but where? I slept in a miniscule tent with my parents. I knew I wouldn't be able to get out in time and the last thing I wanted to do was puke all over my Dad at 3 in the morning. Luckily my Mom woke up and quickly grabbed a plastic back from out of nowhere (Mom-magic at its best) in case I would let my dinner see the light of day, or in this case night, again. I was able to keep it in, but the tone was set for the day.
Bonnet was really worried about me and said that one of the porters could carry me if my situation got worse. I didn't want them to. The 'porter's law' states that a porter is forbidden to carry more than 20 kilos at any time. As you can imagine, I weigh a little more than 20 kilos...


Before we started walking, I had to use our beautiful bathroom facilities, which stank like hell. I already disliked using a hole in the ground as a toilet, but when my body decided everything had to get out, front and back, I hated it even more...
My Dad and Bonnet asked me if I wanted to go back, but I couldn't. I think I wouldn't have been able to live with the shame and guilt if I'd gone back. I insisted on doing the Inka Trail - and doing it all by myself, no porters carrying me.

My Mom and Dad stayed with me in the beginning, but my Dad became restless. We sent him ahead. After a while he came back to carry our packs. He did this for the rest of the trail. People who saw him started calling him Twopack, of simply 'the guy who walks the Inka Trail twice in one go'.

Though we only had to walk only 9kilometers, day 2 was already marked as the toughest day: we had to cross a mountain pass at an altitude of 4200 meters. I wasn't even halfway up when I felt like I couldn't keep going on like that. For the first time in my life I stuck a finger down my throat; it was the worst thing I've had to do to myself in my entire life. After throwing up like that I felt a little better, but also ashamed and dirty.
I didn't eat anything during our first break, I just couldn't. Carefully I sipped some overpriced Coca-Cola. An Irishman, who'd noticed me being miserable along the way, gave me some medicine against the nausea. I started thinking of him as Medicine Man. Without his help, I wouldn't have made it.

It was still a long way to the top, to the pass, but at least I started to feel a little better. My legs were sore and the stairs were steep, so I told myself to walk 100 paces before taking a break. That way I made it to the pass.
Going down was a lot easier. Bonnet kept telling us to take our time, and we did. Slowly but steadily my Mom and I made our way down to the camp. My Dad, who'd earned the respect of our porters by becoming Twopack, went ahead with the porters. I was still on the trail when he reached camp. I had 40 minutes to go and thought I couldn't take it anymore. At that moment one of our porters came back to ask if we wanted tea or sandwiches. He saw my condition and asked if he had to carry me. I wasnted to say yes so badly. I couldn't bear the thought of walking any more. My Mom held my hand and said I didn't need a porter to carry me, that i could do it all by myself. And so I did.
When I finally reached camp, teh porters gave me a big round of applause. I smiled warily, stumbled into my tent and slept for almost 12 hours.

Day 3: Thank God for Imodium
Alarm set to: 5.30am
Distance walked: 16km
I felt good when I woke up on the third day of the Inka Trail. After twelve hours of sleep, I was even able to eat a piece of pancake for breakfast. Then I had to run to the toilet again...
There was no question of being carried that day. I was determined to do it all by myself, walk every last centimeter on my own two feet. We had to climb 400 meters that day and I did it with two tiny pieces of pancake in my system - nothing else. I make it sound easy, but I was still going through hell. Diarrhea isn't much fun, especially when there are no toilets along the and the amount of toilet paper is limited. I'll spare you the details.

All day long, I had to count my steps to keep going. The numbers calmed me and distracted me from the distance I still had to go. I was exhausted and the climb toward the next mountain pass was even more exhausting. By counting the steps and estimating the height of the stairs I could calculate how much I had behind me and how much I still had to go. No bad for a girl who hated math.

At the pass was our first resting point for the day. It was beautiful to see what happened there. Every tourist helped each other out. Medicine Man gave me some Imodium for the diarrhea, while my Mom and I helped a kid from Birmingham back to his feet when he was suffering from altitude sickness. Some kind of wonderful bond made us all feel connected. 'We're all in the same shit, the least we can do is make it a little easier' is what we all thought.

The journey continued, mostly downhill now. Bonnet made me sniff pure alcohol when I started to feel nauseated again. Don't ask me how or why, but it helped instantly. And then, a little while later, when we were taking a small break, we suddenly saw not one, but two condors fly! Even Bonnet was amazed. In the previous two years on the Camino Inka, she'd seen only two condors - and now there were two at once! From that moment on I started enjoying the Inka Trail again. I started hour long conversations with Bonnet about everything that came to mind. I was stunned by the beauty of the Andes. I was tired beyond measure, but it was all worth it when i reached lunch camp, where the porters greeted me with applause again. I was even able to eat some luch. And okay, I admit it, I took a shortcut to our final camp. But in my defense: I was still suffering from food poisoning.

Day 4: Machu Picchu
Alarm set to: 3.30am
Distance walked: 6km
That morning I woke up when a Belgian tourist yelled: 'Allez, on your marks, set and go!'. I have no idea how he could be so awake and cheery, since it was only 3.30am.
After a small breakfast, we went to 'the gate'. the gate is just a fence that marks the start of the final stage of the Inka Trail. It opens at 5.30am, when the night is almost over and the sun is about to rise. So even though we were in line in front of the gate at 4am, we had to wait 90 minutes until it opened. I got impatient, but Bonnet told me it was for my own safety. The Inka Trail is a dangerous route to walk in the dark. As recent as January, a tourist died when she fell of the path. Suddenly I didn't mind waiting.

At 5.30 everyone went crazy. People started running, racing eachother and, more important, the sun. Everyone wanted to be at the Sun Gate at sunrise, to see the sun take a peek over the mountains and bathe Machu Picchu in its early morning light.
I took my time. I was also racing the sun, but I thought my safety more important. Besides, the headlight I was wearing didn't illuminate my path the way it was supposed to; I had to stalk others with better headlights to see where I was going. Not that a better headlight automatically meant a steadier progress. I've seen people with spotlights on their head fall over rocks the size of my upper body... But light or no light, the view on the last part of the trail was amazing. I can't even begin to describe it. Some things you've got to see for yourself.

Finally there!
Then, just before sunrise, I had to climb a staircase on all fours, incredibly steep, stubled a minute or so along the path and stopped. Just stopped and took in the view. Machu Picchu. Finally I saw the forgotten city.
We rushed down the last 2km to the actual city, after seeing the sun rise over Machu Picchu. I can't remember ever being as happy as I was when I walked between the houses, storage rooms and temples. After a tough trek with barely any food in my stomach, I could barely believe I'd made it. I remember saying that I was the only one who could make the things on my Make it Happen List actually happen. This was one of them. The trouble I had to go through to achieve my goal was unbelievable. But the reward was worth it. As we took the bus back to Agua Calientes, I shot one last glance at Machu Picchu. My whole body filled with pride, euforia and, for the first time in years, love for myself. I went through hell and back for it, but I never gave up and succeeded. And that was what 'Make it Happen' is all about.
Greetings from Macu Picchu!

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About me


Envy. Dutch blogger. Est. 1996. No relation to the famous biblical sin. Worst bio writer on this side of the blogospere. Lives on cookies, apple juice and art. Friendly unless confronted with pineapple on pizza. Writes new nonsense every Thursday.

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