In short:
I’m Melanie.
A native Dutch woman who feels most at home in the Austrian Alps, hiking “my” mountains.
I watch Spanish films to keep alive the memories of over a decade in the Picos de Europa, Spain.
Wherever I live or go – kindness has always been the key.
The longer story short:
I was born and raised in the Netherlands by a very creative mum and a wonderfully protective dad. From the very beginning, I brought a touch of drama: apparently, I couldn’t wait to be born, launched myself into the world a bit too enthusiastically, and had to be caught by the doctor—thank heavens for good reflexes and the umbilical cord!
My parents were torn between calling me Tatjana or Melanie. Since I arrived with long black hair and looked like a little Eskimo, they chose Melanie—meaning “black, dark, mysterious.” They raised me to be respectful, helpful, and kind. All four of my grandparents were hard-working, though one was a little different—she was German. Whenever we visited that side of the family, I’d be told to go play with my great cousins. We didn’t share a language, but it never mattered; we always found ways to laugh and play. That’s when I first learned that language is just a tool—and sometimes a confusing one, since we often ended up playing something completely different to what I thought we had agreed on!
At the age of six, my parents took me on holiday to the Zillertal Valley. I remember the feeling as if it were yesterday: I fell in love for the very first time—with the mountains. Soon afterwards, love struck again when my baby brother Peter was born. At the time, I wasn’t very fond of boys, but he turned out to be brilliant, so I told my parents we might as well keep him. A little later my baby sister Lisette arrived—the best gift of all—and our family was complete.
Over the years, my curiosity grew—for languages, landscapes, and cultural differences. I was only 5 years old but remember being fascinated by a classmate from Ethiopia: her graceful movements, her waist-length hair, her unusual way of speaking. To my young eyes, she was pure magic.
I guess all those little step stones guided me to study tourism. All I ever wanted was to travel. And so I did. My practical year was in Zillertal, where I promptly fell in love again—not just with the mountains, but with a gentle Austrian boy who became my husband. Yet, after a while, restlessness returned. Why was I still in the same place, when the world was calling? With my husband’s blessing (and plenty of raised eyebrows around us), I packed my backpack and set off. Travelling alone was exhilarating. But it also brought guilt—how could I be so happy while my husband waited at home? In the end, we decided to set each other free.
So, I started travelling through South-East Asia, came back to the Alps again to earn money for my next trip. I wrote a book during a “year of writing” in Spain, and afterwards invited myself on a trip to Cuba with my younger sister. That’s where we met many wonderful people—one in particular. Thanks to my sister, who drew my attention to this handsome man, my life took another tangent. Two weeks of adventures later, we faced the question: was this just a holiday romance, or the start of something new? It turned out to be the beginning of a whole new life in the Picos de Europa in northern Spain. A new start. I adored everything: the locals’ spirit, their simple honest food, their music and traditions, and, of course, the rough, unspoilt mountains. Wherever there are mountains, I feel at home.
After more than a decade, it was time for change again. I returned “home” to my Austrian Alps and was deeply touched by the warm welcome I received after so many years from most of the locals. This time I didn´t come alone. I was accompanied by my longest mate ever… my Border Collie dog Tibor. We spent every spare minute together in our beloved mountains, “our playground”.
In 2024, Tibor died just before his 13th birthday. Thirteen had always been my German grandmother’s lucky number—she married my grandfather on Friday the 13th and always said it brought them good fortune, because they stayed together through everything. I believe she was right.
I was lucky to learn during these 13 years how to communicate without words. How to respect another living being without sharing a culture, country… or even a species!
I learned on a very deep level how to bond by kindness. Kindness is the key to all!
And so, the world is still waiting for me – and I am ready!