my country :)

Dutch Gothic
  • There is a windmill in the middle of the village you are visiting. You see it looming omniously over the rooftops as you drive by. It seems old. You are surprised to find it in the middle of a village while you’ve been looking for it in the countryside all day yesterday. You take a turn left. Then a turn right. You try to get to where you think the windmill will be. It is gone. You can not find it.
  • Everyone rides bicycles. There is literally more bicycles on the roads than cars. No one wears helmets. You do, and everyone gives you odd glances.
  • Everyones bicycles are old and rusty with pieces missing. They break down often. The Dutch person just sighs, gets of the roads and puts the bicycle upside down. Three minutes later they are riding again, hands covered in black grime.
  • You arranged a meeting at six am. You show up a quarter past six. The Dutch person isn’t there. You wait. They don’t come. They’d already been there at six but left ten minutes later, figuring you weren’t going to show up anymore. They are mad. They blame you. 
  • In the north by the coast there is Friesland. By car you can cross it in an hour. The people there speak Frisian. The Dutch can not understand Frisian. Not a word. They prefer English and German over Frisian any day. No one knows why the people from Friesland insist on speaking Frisian. Everyone is annoyed by this.
  • You growl when you speak. G’s rasping and R’s rattling even in the kindest sentences. The foreigners laugh at you (all but the Germans, of course). You hide your blush and lick your wounds, figuring you’re just going to speak English from now on. Everyone around you speaks English. They feel your pain. 
  • Since a few years the north has earthquakes. They are caused by the government sucking all the gas from the ground. People are fleeing from the countryside, leaving deserted ghost villages in their wake. The people from the North are mad! They keep saying they will become independent and keep all the gas for themselves. Another microcountry. As if Friesland wasn’t enough.
  • A foreign friends comes to visit. You want to cook a nice typically Dutch dish for them as a surprise. You stare at the kitchen counter blankly. All you can think of is mashed potatoes.
  • Spring comes. The people from the south go crazy. The names of all cities and villages are changed. Everyone dresses up in weird costumes as if to disguise or hide their whole land. From what? You wonder. You cross the river northwards. Suddenly it is silent. Everything has gone back to normal.
  • The winter comes. There is no elfstedentocht. Everyone panics anyway, especially in Friesland.
  • There are five small islands off the coast. You have always gone to one of these islands on day trips with your family. You know every single road on this particular island like the back of your hand. You know every rabbit by name. You know nothing about the other islands. You won’t go there. Ever.
  • No one talks about the ocean. Everyone knows it is there, but it has been a threat for so long everyones fear has dimmen and dulled. Like a looming apocalypse that keeps being postponed. Uninteresting. 

anonymous asked:

your opinion on italian tumblr

see, that’s a tricky question
in my experience there are two sides to IT Tumblr: 1. *actual* italian Tumblr aka weird hipster kids that mostly post in italian and are obsessed with grunge/pastel aesthetics and romanticizing mental illness and either pretentious indie singers or obscure rappers = dramatic fake deep teenagers, they scare me a bit
2. “‘international”’ italian tumblr, aka people that mostly blog in English and have various kinds of fandom/aesthetic/other interests blogs but we usually all bond over shitty politics, shitty discourse (Dante is fanfiction/sicilians are POC and such), Medici, Eurovision and national memes = literally 99.9% great people, hella chill, hella sarcastic, socially aware while still being critical of black/white us centric sj thinking. love them all

idealistic classics student aesthetic on Tumblr: classy and refined, impeccable style, can translate Homer and Vergil at the bat of one eye, smokes incredibly expensive cigarettes and owns several marble busts, incredibly organized notes with fancy gothic style handwriting, basically a TSH character without the murder

italian liceo classico student gothic: has worn the same hoodie for the last 30 days, constantly squints when they’re outside bc they’re unused to sunlight, goes out like once every 6 months and gets blackout drunk on cheap vodka when they do, their only free time is that spent on the toilet or in the shower, tira giù le madonne over Cicero’s writing, probably doesn’t remember one (1) grammar rule from year 1 but will be able to quote Títyre tú patuláe and Ἄνδρα μοι ἔννεπε, Μοῦσα by heart for the rest of their life