You know that moment when you ask the universe for a sign and secretly expect something spiritual? Lightning. An eagle. A voice in a dream.
I got… a cookie pop-up.
I was at my desk in my 9–5 job in the Netherlands. Normal day. Grey sky, rain, the familiar noise of an office and that quiet voice inside me that kept whispering: this can’t be it. I had already set an intention in myself: I want a different life. More real, more free, closer to nature, closer to my own rhythm. I didn’t know how. I only knew I couldn’t stay where I was forever.
And then there it was. Tiny box in the corner of my screen. An off-grid house in Spain. Countryside. Land. One of those things you should logically close and ignore. I didn’t close it. I clicked.
What happened next still feels like a mix between divine intervention and a glitch in my own brain. Before I could overthink it, I had filled in my details and requested more information. Less than a minute later my phone rang. Spanish number. Real estate agent. The house was still available. There were three viewings booked for the next week. If we wanted a real chance, we had to move fast.
This is the part where many people imagine they would say: “Let me think about it.”
I didn’t. Within 24 hours Thomas was on a plane to Spain. I still had a job, kids, a life in the Netherlands, but something in me decided: this door is open, I’m not going to stare at it, I’m going to walk through it.
The funny thing about “manifesting” is that on Instagram it often looks like candles, crystals and everything magically falling into place. In real life it’s much messier. You set a clear intention. You stay awake enough to recognise the weird, unexpected openings. And then you do completely insane practical things: call a stranger in another language, book a last-minute flight, climb over a fence, sign papers that make no sense on paper but feel right in your body.
The first time we saw the place properly, it wasn’t some cute fairytale house under the Spanish sun. It was an off-grid spot on a hill in the Spanish countryside on a rainy day. Grey sky, wild land, a house full of history and chaos. But there was space. There was silence. There was this thick, almost tangible energy that said: you can grow here. It wasn’t small at all. It was huge. Not in square metres, but in possibility.
Nothing was handed to us on a silver plate. There was no “oh look, here is your ready-made dream life, enjoy”. There was land that needed work. Systems that needed to be built. Money that had to be found. Bureaucracy that needed endless work to make the house legal on paper. Fear and frustration that came in waves. Every time we thought “ok, now it will get easier”, something new showed up that asked for more courage, more patience, more trust.
That’s the part people don’t often talk about when they say “the universe has your back”. Yes, sometimes life sends you a clear sign. A cookie. A house. A conversation. But the universe doesn’t walk the path for you. Doors open, but your legs still have to move. Your hands still have to build. Your heart still has to keep saying yes while your mind is screaming no.
The only thing we can really be sure of is that everything is always changing. Nature knows this. Seasons shift, nothing stays the same. And we forget that we’re part of that nature too. Our faces change every day, our bodies age, our time here is painfully finite. If we’re lucky, we get around 80 summers. Yet we act as if time has stopped, trying to keep our lives fixed in something “safe” and “known”, even when that “safe” feels like slowly suffocating.
I won’t pretend this path is romantic. The hardest part hasn’t been my own choices, but how people respond to them. Conversations that die the moment I say what I really want. Jokes at my expense. Eye-rolls. In court my plans were turned into a punchline; I was framed as the irresponsible hippie who doesn’t want to take responsibility, while in reality I’ve been the one showing up every day, raising my kids largely on my own for seventeen years.
That’s what happens when you step outside what is considered “normal”. People will have opinions. They will project their own fear of movement onto you, because it’s easier to call someone crazy or naïve than to ask themselves why they stay where they are.
And still, every time I stand here on this land and feel the wind, see the light change on the hills and hear the absolute silence and see the stars at night, I know why I said yes. This place is not a prize I won. It’s a passion project. A strange dance between something bigger than me and the very human work of building, again and again, even when it’s not pretty.
Can Hippie started with one decision: I was done with my old rhythm, a cookie pop-up appeared, and I followed it all the way to an off-grid hill in Spain. Today this place is my home and a small-scale stay for people who need a reset. You don’t have to want a completely different life to come here. Maybe you just need a few days to breathe, to sleep well, to eat real food and to feel what your own heart is actually saying again.
That’s the energy I put into everything here: the stays, the retreats and the natural products I create under the Can Hippie name. Small-scale magic, personal and honest, for people who are done with mass entertainment and surface-level wellness.
In the next blog I’ll show you what a few days here actually feel like: a small-scale stay in Spain with slow mornings, good food, stars at night and enough space to hear yourself again. If you’re curious about a retreat-style stay near Valencia or just want to follow the journey, keep an eye out for my blog.
If you’re reading this and some part of you recognises that mix of longing and fear, consider this your tiny cookie moment. Maybe you don’t have to know the whole path yet. Maybe it’s enough, for now, to notice which doors are already half open in your own life and to consider that they might not be there by accident.
The universe nudges. You move. That’s where the magic lives.
