In my life in Italy, my motherland, quite a few domestic evenings terminated around the dinner table with my mum, a coffee or a cappuccino ('cause who has time to follow the rules) and many hours of flowing conversation. To my doubts around life and its curve-balls she would often suggest that "intuition is the whisper of the soul" and although not explicitly mentioned, it was implied how the soul had a certain degree of wisdom. 

But how can you make sure that you hear the whisper? The answer was just about to unfold.


It was the year 2013 and I was a recently graduated high schooler, close to starting my university course and full of unanswered questions - first in line, "why am I doing this?". The choice seemed rational, at the end of the day that's what everyone does, but it lacked passion and a true motivation. There was no whisper, and there was no soul - just an ever growing pile of books to read.


After a semester of Literature & Languages philology classes and with the excuse of my best friend's birthday just around the corner, at least one question had a certain answer.

"Where do we go?" 
"Amsterdam!"


My Dutch story, unofficially, started on a morning walk around De Pijp: I was visiting Amsterdam as a tourist and enjoying the narrow streets full of flowers and greenery when an image of genuine contentment caught my eye: a young curly man was sitting on the mullions of his window, laptop on his tight and sipping from a coffee cup while laughing the start of the day away on what seemed to be a work meeting.


The sun was shining and this glimpse at a stranger's daily life would forever change me. 


Was that what daily life looked like in The Netherlands? Was the workplace a promoter of morning laughs, as opposed to a place to despise? 
Could I also work from the side of the street on a sunny summer day?


“We should come to live here”, I lightheartedly said to my friend while thinking that it seemed such a good way to live one’s life. We then entered the Albert Cuyp Markt, and the smell of Oliebollen let that thought gently fade away.

Back home and fast forward a few months, the academic path was more and more revealing itself in its incompatibility with me, to the point of dropping out. Several months of jumping from job to job would follow, seeing me as a post-production editor, a receptionist, a flyer deliverer.


It took some time and quite a bit of soul-searching, but eventually, I came to realize that professional and practical courses were more aligned with my true calling. The theoretical depths of literature and languages, though enriching, did not resonate with my desire for tangible skills and a clear career path.
That's when I enrolled in a professional course focused on digital marketing and technology. This decision opened the door to my first job in a digital agency, where I discovered a passion for the dynamic, ever-evolving world of digital media and technology.

Yet, the whisper of the soul I experienced in Amsterdam never faded. One day like many other days, I decided to take a leap of faith, fueled by the memory of that sunny morning walk in De Pijp and the vision of a fulfilling. I packed my bags and moved to Amsterdam, ready to turn that dream into reality.
After arriving in Amsterdam, I once again cycled through various service jobs to support myself, all the while seeking a more permanent and satisfying career path. That's when my path crossed the one of Le Wagon, where I studied Web Development for three extremely intense months, living and breathing code and discovered that coding bootcamp are called like that for a very valid reason. 
After three years working in the school as a teacher and coding my way through freelancer projects, I decided it was time to learn from the best in the field: I wanted an environment where I could grow and learn, while being challenged and supported by my peers. A place where ideas flow free and processes are cherished. And this is what I have found at Miyagami, a workplace that has fallen nothing short of my wildest expectations. 
And so I am working in an agency again, this time as a Full-Stack Web Developer: the circle has come full turn. 

What I can tell you, my life in Amsterdam had become everything I had dreamt of, and I sometimes do work from the garden, laughing at the nerdy jokes that open our morning meetings. The intuition was right, and my soul is content.
And when people ask me, "Why Amsterdam?" I always start with, "Well, there was this curly man…"

We never intended to start a company.

4 and a half years ago, I was at a pretty weird point in my life. I just finished an intense year participating in the Delft Hyperloop Competition as a “part-time” engineer on the Propulsion team. I did not take into consideration that “part-time” on a student team is not 20 hours per week, but rather a dedication of every hour that is available after deducting basic human necessities, like water and food (see how I did not include sleep in this summation?).

In parallel, I was also trying to get the final 30 points I needed to complete my Bachelor's in Mechanical Engineering. All in all, this was one of the most stressful periods of my life and helped me figure out what I didn't want to do. I did not want to work in the Mechanical Engineering field. Luckily for me, fate was on my side and I forgot to enrol for my master's (Advanced Vehicle Engineering), leading me to have an unexpected gap year to recover from the previous year.

This allowed me to think, and figure out what I would like to do with my life. Growing up I had no clue what I wanted to do, and was always taking on new projects or jobs to pinpoint my goal through deduction. I always envied people who had it figured out, following a path set in stone from a young age. The choice for Mechanical engineering was based on the courses that I came easiest and sold it under the guise of my love for tinkering with scooters and bikes. In hindsight, this decision lacked the fundamental motivation to do this for the rest of my life.

During this period, Bo and I decided to do some software projects. I was already doing some freelance website work and received some more complex assignments that could not be solved within the WordPress framework. We thought about it for a while, and then decided to set up a VOF with the goal of making “cool software”. We did not have a real business plan and we were figuring it out as we went. Together with two team members from the Hyperloop team (Joppe & Mozes) we rented a small basement near our favourite Döner shop (Leeman) and started coding our first software projects. Those first few weeks were a lot of fun, we took on way too much work, spent all our revenue on food and drinks and were pulling all-nighters at an office without central heating.

Looking back at this time I’m mainly really proud of where we are now. We even have a slogan nowadays. I haven’t figured out what I want any more than I did back in the day, but that’s okay. In all honesty, I think you might never find that out completely - people change. But nowadays I wake up every day extremely excited to go to the office and grow as a team, both in the work that we do as well as individually. For me, Miyagami is a place where I can grow, keep on learning and have a lot of fun with the team while we do.

I’ve learned that design, like life, isn’t just about what you make. It’s about what you let go of.
At six years old, I let go of soccer games to sit on the sidelines, sketching caricatures of my classmates. For candy or pocket money, mostly. By the time I was eleven, I was already questioning the smallest acts of connection, like waving at people in passing. Why one hand and not two? Why wave at all? It was a strange little rebellion, but it taught me something early: you don’t have to do things the way everyone else does.

That small defiance became a theme in my life. Each step forward brought a choice about what to hold onto and what to leave behind. My childhood in Indonesia, my dream of fashion design, even the creative agency that became my second home. Each decision felt like its own kind of loss, but they were also doors. And if I’ve learned anything, it’s that every door you close leaves room for the next adventure.


Growing up in Indonesia, creativity wasn’t just a hobby; it was my escape. I wasn’t the kid racing across the soccer field. I was the one sitting on the sidelines, drawing the world as I saw it. By sixth grade, I’d turned it into a business, trading caricatures for candy or pocket money. And in high school, I found my first creative community, organizing art fairs and talent shows with the student association.

But even then, I felt the pull of something bigger. When my family lived briefly in Singapore and Adelaide, I glimpsed the wider world and wanted more of it. Winning a scholarship to study fashion design at AMFi in Amsterdam felt like destiny. It was an opportunity to transform my love of storytelling into wearable art.

At first, it was everything I’d dreamed of. But it didn’t take long for the cracks to show. Design in Asia thrives on maximalism and tends to be decorative, with more color, more detail, and more of everything. In Amsterdam, everything was about restraint. “Less is more” wasn’t just a principle; it was practically a religion. Adapting to this minimalist philosophy was like learning a new language while living in a culture that wasn’t my own.

And then there were the professors. *“Fashion isn’t for you,”* they told me. Over and over. For four years. By the time I left, I couldn’t tell if they were pushing me toward my potential or out the door entirely. But leaving wasn’t the failure I feared. It was the turning point I didn’t know I needed.


The day after I quit fashion school, I got a message from Marian Duff, director of MAFB, a fashion competition in Amsterdam. A model I’d worked with had recommended me, and Marian wanted to know if I’d participate. I said yes, unsure if I was ready. And then I won.

That win didn’t just restore my confidence. It set me on a new path. I enrolled in Creative Business, a program that reframed design as something more than aesthetics. It was about solving problems, creating connections, and meeting people where they were. For the first time, I saw design as a bridge between creativity and purpose.

During my internship at B Amsterdam, I met Rose, a manager who had an incredible ability to see what people were capable of before they saw it themselves. One month into my internship, the in-house graphic designer quit, and Rose encouraged me to step in. *“Girl, your designs are beautiful. Why don’t you apply?”* she said.

Her confidence gave me the push I needed to start freelancing. While finishing my internship, I took on design projects for B Amsterdam, juggling school and work. It was there I met Karissa and Alex, two creatives who would later become my mentors.

When my internship ended, Karissa and Alex invited me to join them in building a new agency, KBPM. I started as the “office kid,” a nickname that stuck in the best possible way. From day one, I was given the space to grow. Karissa guided me into the world of UX and branding, while Alex taught me how to work with developers. It was a skill that took months of trial and error, along with countless revisions, but it opened my eyes to how design and development could work together.

The agency felt like a playground for ideas. We worked on SaaS platforms, branding projects, and digital transformations, always chasing the next big thing. Those years shaped me, not just as a designer but as someone who understood the power of collaboration.

But no creative playground lasts forever. When our biggest clients pulled out, the agency couldn’t survive. By December, we closed our doors, and I was back to freelancing, wondering if I’d ever find that sense of belonging again.


Freelancing brought its own kind of freedom. I threw myself into projects that aligned with my values, like branding for LGBTQ+ NGOs and designing for ballroom communities across Europe. These weren’t just jobs; they were a way to give back, to create spaces where people felt seen and celebrated.

But freelancing also came with uncertainty. Balancing meaningful work with financial stability felt like walking a tightrope. I began to wonder if there was a place where I could do work that mattered while also finding the kind of creative community I craved.


When I joined Miyagami, I felt something I hadn’t in a long time: belonging. My first major project, redefining the Studio by Miyagami brand, wasn’t just about building a website. It was about asking the big questions: Who are we? What makes us different? What do we want to say?

We didn’t just create something beautiful. We created something intentional. From custom photography to motion design, every detail came together with purpose. It felt like building a language, a way for the brand to speak clearly and authentically to its audience.

The experience reminded me why I fell in love with design in the first place. It’s not about creating something that looks good. It’s about creating something that feels right.

If I’ve learned anything, it’s that design is as much about what you let go of as what you create. The sketches you erase, the ideas you abandon, the doors you close. They all make space for something new.

“Be the maximum expression of yourself” has always been a fundamental phrase for me. IBEX35, “Buy the dip, short the VIX”, CAC40, NASDAQ, DOW, “Buy the rumour, sell the news”, NYSE, Interest Rate… terms that at some point were of great interest to me, over time they became remorse and torture. Until I had enough, and since destiny loves irony, circumstances put me on the right path to change course by my own decision.

In 2015, fate (and its irony) put before me the first challenge: stay in Venezuela and assume the consequences of the crisis, or leave the country in search of a better future. Sadly, the situation in the country degenerated so radically that only the latter remained. Therefore, in 2016 I left my country for the US to study Finance.

Three and a half years passed. ROI, KPIs, Market Makers, Stock Options, Financial Markets… the deeper I got into it, the more I felt like I was making a terrible mistake. Once I finished my studies, and with the possibility of staying in the US, my partner and I decided to move to Europe. Here I had the opportunity to work as an analyst and project manager for 4 years. Sadly, I only found what I feared during my studies: monotony, thousands of redundant meetings, and a system that did not reward the result but the rigidity of the procedure.

2022 arrives: I am now a father, and fate (with its irony) knocks on the door again. The company I worked for had no use for multiple project administrators, and I was offered a position on the accounts payable team, a position I found incredibly boring. Fate once again proposed a challenge to me: accept a position where I was not happy, or take a step forward and recognize my mistake to correct it.

Given this news, I began to delve into programming, an area for which I always felt an affinity but which I did not pursue out of stubbornness. I started alone, without support, using only free online resources. Over time, I was running scripts that made my job more enjoyable. By September 2022, I was already mastering complex concepts such as Trees, nodes, memory leaks, etc. By October 2022, I quit my job in search of a career that would allow me to be the fullest expression of myself.

In 2023, after months of learning on my own, trying to balance parenting and starting a career from scratch, I decided to specialize in web development. There I learned in more depth the fundamental concepts of creating custom software for innovators, and thanks to Miyagami, my days are not monotonous, the meetings are not redundant. Here I am not only where the result is rewarded, but mistakes are also rewarded, because there is no shame in them, but they represent an opportunity for everyone to learn something.

Instead of dreading Mondays, I look forward to starting a new week, and each day I come to the office there is a team of 12 people who ensure the professional success of each of the team members and the projects we lead. I don't want to say we are a family, but we are not far from it. The focus here is not on who followed the rules best, but rather on who could go above and beyond to create products that not only meet our customers' needs but exceed every expectation they ever had.

Fate and its irony put me on the necessary path. I decided to accept the challenge and pursue the ultimate prize it offered. Being the maximum expression of oneself is the fundamental key to success because if I had not heard that expression, I would most likely be paying an invoice for a company that requested my services. Many people live through similar processes, but few leap to improve their lives. Building scalable, high-end software was my way, and it's only by being brave enough to listen to my own voice that I can now say I'm here.

New beginnings have always been a source of inspiration for me. My life, like a patchwork quilt, is stitched together with unexpected turns and vibrant colors. My first chapter began in Belgrade, where I taught biology at a high school after earning my Biology bachelors degree. I didn't just teach cells or evolution–I also taught life lessons, reminding my students that the real learning happens after the bell rings. While teaching gave me immense pleasure, curiosity always pushed me to try something new.

After hours in the classroom, I would return home to my sewing machine to build my own slow-fashion brand, Kalas, named after my beloved childhood dog. Using leftover materials, I created scrunchies, scarves, and bags, giving forgotten fabrics a second chance, just as my journey was about second chances.

However, life called for another leap. With a bag full of dreams, I moved to Amsterdam for a second master’s degree. Despite three degrees, my nationality became a barrier in job applications, leaving me disheartened and disappointed in how the world works. It was a tough period. To make ends meet, I worked in a restaurant, climbing the ranks from crew member to manager. But the job was draining me. I was waking up every morning unmotivated, longing for something that truly ignited my passion. And then, I found coding. What began as a curiosity turned into an obsession. The idea that a few lines of code could create something alive, something functional, fascinated me. Coding was like solving a puzzle—logical yet creative, challenging yet rewarding. It just clicked.

I threw myself into the world of tech, joining a bootcamp and later becoming a teacher myself. Guiding aspiring developers ignited a new passion, but I wasn’t done growing. I stepped into the role of a freelance developer, juggling clients, projects, and endless learning. For the first time, I felt like I’d found my purpose and a career I want to pursue for my life.

After some time I realised I would like to settle down. I wanted stability and growth—a place where I could learn, be challenged, and thrive. I wanted to be surrounded by likeminded people everyday, that I can learn from, that I can share my ideas with and grow. I applied for Miyagami as an office manager, because there were no open positions for developers at that time,  with an idea that I will sneak around and learn while developers are working, and be in a stimulating environment. Dale, sent me a tech case study to complete so that I can sometimes part time code too. I loved it! I got a chance! I did my best to complete the challenge as much as I could in a short period of time and came for an interview with deploying the app just before leaving the house.

Just 10 minutes after the interview, Dale called me and told me I am getting an offer for a Junior Full Stack Developer position. I couldn’t believe it, I had to stop cycling for a second and accept the information. Hey that small Serbian girl, who was fighting her way to survive since she came to The Netherlands was finally given a chance to prove, to grow, to learn, she was given a purpose and she was finally not looked at as a ‘visa applicant’ but as a person.

Today is Monday, and I work as a Full-Stack Web Developer at Miyagami, a workplace that saw me for my skills and ambitions. It’s a place where my ideas are valued, my growth is supported, and my passion is celebrated. Now waking up and going to work is not a struggle, now I am looking forward to Mondays, looking forward to coming back to smiling faces of my colleagues and to my colorful code lines. I feel I got the chance I was waiting for so long, I found my place, my passion and my career- and I would never stop being grateful to Miyagami for it.


PM or UX Design? Why Not Both?

I majored in Industrial Design and loved coming up with new product ideas and building models. But after graduation, I realized 3D modeling wasn’t for me. I still had a passion for building products and found I was good at organization and planning. That led me to Product Management (PM), and to my surprise, I loved it. As a PM, I got to collaborate across teams, oversee projects, and feel the thrill of launching successful products.

At my previous company, which didn’t have a UI/UX designer, I self-learned Figma and naturally took on a hybrid role as PM and UI/UX designer. The satisfaction of designing user experiences made me wonder if I should go back to being a full-time designer.

While planning to study abroad, I pursued a Master's in Digital Design in the Netherlands. The question still lingered: designer or PM?

One day, at a networking event, I asked a product lead about my dilemma. She smiled and said, *"Who says you have to choose? Why not do both?"*

That was a wake-up call. Most job markets still push you to pick one, but I realized my mixed skillset wasn’t a problem—it was an advantage. Instead of choosing, I could integrate both roles.

### 
After graduation, I aimed to land a UXUI design role but the market was tough. After months of trying, I returned to PM. Interestingly, when I applied to Miyagami, I applied for both roles and got interviews for both. In the end, I became a PM.
### 
### 
Looking back, it seems like my path has swung between design and PM, but really it’s been a journey of integration. I’ve learned that I don’t need to pick one path—I can combine my strengths from both.

Now, even though my title is PM, I approach design from a PM’s perspective and use design sensitivity to inform product decisions. I no longer struggle with choosing a path—I blend both, becoming a PM who understands design or a designer with a product mindset.

In the end, I’ve discovered and embraced what makes me unique—I'm not just a designer or a traditional PM. I'm someone who bridges both worlds to create better products.


In the summer of 2021, the Covid-19 pandemic and its consequences started to fade. Bars and restaurants were starting to reopen; people started returning to their social routines. This was beyond exciting for me; I could not wait for the fulfilling summer that had been taken from me before. It did, however, have a consequence that I was not too excited about. Restaurants and cafes were opening again, which meant that at my restaurant job, I would have to go back to dealing with customers and their often rude demands, which they had been unable to express for over a year. With the degree in computer science that I was one year away from finishing, being on a pause due to summer vacation, after just a week of being a proper HORECA worker again, I decided to transition to a programming job as soon as possible, by all means necessary.

I filled the time left open by the university by self-studying practical programming skills, which I felt were missing from my bachelor’s degree. Making little web development projects and learning about servers felt exciting and way more rewarding than memorising abstract programming concepts to get a passing grade. Two months later, with just a little more experience in web development, I thought it was time I started applying for internships. My CV flew left and right; it felt like I was sending little paper aeroplanes into nothing. But with persistence, I knew it would eventually land in the right hands.

One morning, I woke up to a pleasant email from a company called Miyagami. The email was an invitation for a video interview. On a hot summer day, the sun was shining onto my laptop screen—or at least the part of it that was still working—as I had a pleasant interview/conversation with Dale. After the interview, I was unexpectedly invited to the office to do a small coding case.

At the time, my work experience varied quite a lot. I worked at the port of Montevideo, carrying crates and helping with the bureaucracy. I was a delivery driver, and I worked in HORECA. None of those experiences ever entailed an office job where I sit in front of a computer and do something related to what I have been studying for the past 2 years. It would be an understatement to say that I was nervous. I threw an external keyboard into my bag, as my current laptop keyboard did not work, and I biked to the address in the email.

I got to an office with more than enough space for the three people working there at the time. Unsure about my dress code, ability to program and general understanding of how to act, I did the case in the office while everybody else was busy with work. As it turns out, long hair, a dress shirt and an Adidas hat might not have been the best look, but it certainly did make me look like I know how to program, according to my colleagues. Regardless of my wardrobe, I completed the case and, to my surprise, got the internship before the time of readily available AI assistance as well!

I continued to do my studies while doing the full-time internship and finishing up my contract at the restaurant for the first month of it. After the contract was finished, I still did some part-time work on the side, and in addition to my study and internship, bills had to be paid. Looking back at it now, it was difficult, but I was too motivated by two things: finally using my programming skills for something practical and never wanting to work as a waiter again. Yes, not wanting to deal with drunk tourists can be a strong enough motivator to do 80 hours of work a week.

The three people I saw when arriving at Miyagami first slowly grew into the twelve working at Miyagami at the time of writing this. I slowly grew into a full-stack developer rather than an intern. It has been 3 years, and the journey I have gone through with Miyagami can not be fully described with a three-part novel, let alone a short story. It was here that I discovered my strengths, weaknesses, and passions. Looking back at the case I did as my internship test, I can confidently say that I can whip up a better quality result within an hour, while it took me two days before.

When I was a kid, I never really knew what I wanted to be when I grew up. Some kids had already decided they would become a pilots, a vet, or maybe a real princess. Some of these kids even made it a reality and never deviated from their path all those years. Again, I had no clue.

Every once in a while, I would ask my dad, the man who knew everything about anything, at least that’s what I believed at that age, 'What do you think I will become when I’m older?' The answer would always be: 'A dolphin trainer' (if I were to ask him now, he would probably still say that). It would either make me laugh or piss me off, but it made it clear that even the human version of Wikipedia couldn’t help me out. My mom, on the other hand, never gave a direct answer. She used to say, 'Just make sure you pick one thing you enjoy and become really good at it.' But what thing? I paused the mission to find the answer at age 10...

Fast forward, I finished high school, took a gap year, worked different jobs, and decided to give university a try. Although I enjoyed my first year, I knew from the start that it would not last—too many rules, too much theory, too old of an institution. One educational system can’t work for everyone. Then I started looking into a program called Codam Coding College, a coding study completely based on an autonomous education system. Just you and your peers figuring things out together. I would be able to decide when and how to study, and I would learn a skill and hopefully become really good at it. Therefore, I dove in deep and signed up for the piscine. I got in and really gave it my all.

During the 2 years at Codam, I met my best friends, spent more hours playing ping-pong than writing code, and had a few eureka moments, but mostly felt extremely stupid. Against my expectations, I did really learn some things. I learned to learn, I learned to motivate myself, and I learned to write a bit of code. After a 6-month internship and my first job, I craved something different and more unpredictable. The horizon kept spreading, and my understanding of the world of tech got smaller with every door that opened or topic that popped up. To stay afloat, I started reaching out to people I knew in the industry and read more and more about different companies, sectors, and positions.

When I first set foot in the Miyagami office, it was just to have a little peek. I met some of the people and sat with Dale, who answered all of my questions. After that visit, I felt very motivated and inspired. The energy in the office, the variety of people, and most importantly, the infectious enthusiasm. So, it led to more conversations, and I switched jobs to start a position at Miyagami. I am still very grateful for this opportunity and feel lucky to be a part of this team. Every day I go into the office excited about what the day will bring: a challenge, an achievement, or some inspiration, but, to be honest, I'm mostly excited to find out which stupid joke I will be laughing at the hardest that day because believe me, that’s our real talent.

My advice? Make sure you pick one thing you enjoy and become really good at it, or become a dolphin trainer.

Growing up in Amsterdam, I was always surrounded by a buzz of energy and opportunity.

Yet, as a kid, I had no idea what I wanted to be when I grew up. While some of my friends had their dreams mapped out—one wanted to be a doctor, another an astronaut—I was out there enjoying life, playing sports, and doing just enough to keep my grades decent. I was passionate about a lot of things, but none of them screamed "career material," at least not yet.

My focus during high school was field hockey. I poured so much energy into the sport that my grades were pretty much just coasting along. It wasn’t that I didn’t care about school; it’s just that I cared way more about hitting goals on the field than hitting the books. When it came time to choose a university path, I figured Economics and Business would be a safe choice. After all, economics had always been my best subject, and it seemed like a practical way forward that wouldn’t raise any eyebrows.

But then, I hit accounting. Numbers I could deal with, but spreadsheets and balance sheets drained my soul. I began to question my life choices: Is this really what I’m supposed to do for the rest of my life? The thought of sticking with it made me feel like I was skating on thin ice, and I wasn’t about to fall through.

So, I dropped out, much to the shock of my parents, and found myself at a crossroads. It was like I had accidentally hit a giant reset button on life. But then, I stumbled upon the field of Artificial Intelligence, and I was hooked from day one. It was like discovering a treasure chest of subjects that combined technology, problem-solving, and a dash of sci-fi. This was more than just studying; it felt like exploring a whole new world. I couldn’t get enough of it.

Around that time, my brother Dale and I had this wild idea: "Why not start a company?" We called it Studio Miyagi, and we were literally working out of a basement. It was as cliché as it gets for a startup. We were pulling late nights doing coding projects and learning as we went. Two years flew by, and during the second year, I decided to take on a new challenge: a master’s degree in Information Systems. Balancing full-time work and full-time study was like juggling flaming swords. There were moments of doubt, for sure, like when I realized I hadn’t seen the sun in days, but it was also thrilling in a weird, chaotic way.

Once I graduated, I thought I should do something with AI beyond web development, so I joined an algorithmic trading firm in Rotterdam. The work was cutting-edge, developing deep learning models to trade stocks and derivatives. But the financial world wasn’t what I’d hoped for. The atmosphere was stiff, and the pace was sluggish, which is ironic when you’re writing algorithms that make split-second decisions.

After a year of crunching numbers and wearing stiff shirts, I had a heart-to-heart with Dale. It was time to come back to Miyagami, my true home. And boy, was I glad I did. Ever since I rejoined, there hasn’t been a single day where I’ve dreaded going to the office. We’ve built an amazing team, and seeing how much the company has grown in just the past year or two has been incredible. There’s a kind of magic in working alongside people who share the same drive, and every day feels like we’re building something remarkable.

Looking back, I think the key to finding your career path is not to overthink it. Be curious, try new things, and don’t worry if you don’t have it all figured out right away. I never imagined I'd end up working with AI or running a company with my brother, but life has a funny way of surprising you when you stay open to possibilities.

To anyone who's still figuring it out: embrace the twists and turns. You might just find that the "wrong" path takes you exactly where you’re supposed to be. And if that happens to involve working out of a basement and pulling all-nighters, well, at least you’ll have some pretty epic stories to tell.

My path into design began in my teenage years with a technical high school degree in my hometown of Biarritz, France— by luck, one of the few programs of its kind at the time. As a kid, my love for drawing and painting, paired with a fascination for books, made it clear that creativity was my true calling. I dreamed of a future where I could combine art, storytelling in a functional object or setting, wondering if that might take the form of becoming an illustrator—or perhaps a designer?

Determined to pursue this goal, I dedicated myself to a preparatory class, working relentlessly to secure a place in the highly selective French art school system. At 18, I achieved my dream of joining the Arts Décoratifs in Strasbourg (1,000 kilometers from home!). Renowned for its illustration program and exceptional resources like silk screen printing, lithograph engraving, bookbinding, ceramics, and more, the school provided the perfect environment for exploration (also looked like a fantasy castle—Google it). It was there that I truly fell in love with design and immersed myself in learning more about it.

While my bachelor’s years were filled with creativity and experimentation, I realised the importance of hands-on experience. After earning my degree, I took a gap year, splitting it between a university exchange in graphic design in Seoul, South Korea and an internship at a design agency in Amsterdam. Both experiences pushed me out of my comfort zone, and gave me a new perspective on how design is perceived outside of the circles I had been in before.

After five years of study and experimentation, I graduated with honors in 2022, receiving an award for my master’s research project. However, the transition to the professional world brought a stark reality: while I loved graphic design, it was often treated as any other service industry, not allowing me to practice it in the way I had envisioned and make a sustainable living from it. The ideals of art, research, and critical thinking that I deeply valued weren’t always recognised in the way I had hoped. This left me questioning my path: Did I want to be part of this service-driven industry? Had I made the right choices for my future?

To gain perspective, I took an internship at the United Nations in Vienna, stepping into a structured environment far from the creative freedom I’d known. It was fascinating, but ultimately, it reaffirmed my love for design—the ability to create worlds from scratch, connect with people through visual storytelling resulting in a tangible experience.

An opportunity arose to join a graphic design traineeship program back in Amsterdam, and within a week, I made the decision to leave the UN (and a job offer) and return to the city that had captivated me during my gap year. This move was transformative; I dove into web design and digital products, discovering a balance between service and creativity that felt authentic to me. This city, my adopted home, as well as the talented creative people met along the way, has been instrumental in shaping both my creative journey and personal growth.

Joining Miyagami has been a true turning point. So far, it’s an experience that has exceeded all my expectations. Offering the perfect environment to grow both personally and professionally. As a UX/UI designer, I’m excited to continue evolving my skills and contribute meaningfully to our team and the projects we undertake. I feel incredibly fortunate to be part of a creative, collaborative space filled with passionate and talented professionals, from developers to designers, that is constantly growing. Looking forward to what we create together!

It was 2010 and I was starting my bachelor's in Industrial Design Engineering.

Apple had introduced the iPhone only 3 years before and most of the people around me had either a Blackberry or a phone that had to be slid or opened to type - yes, type. Most of us students had no data plans on our “smartphones”, as part of our tight student budgets, and this would go on for many of us for quite some years. If you were away from your university or home wifi, you were almost in a blackout; you could call and message, but forget about checking out anything online or using apps connected to the internet. I think I probably resisted getting a data plan the most. It was only when the public transport apps of Valencia started to be decent enough that I saw the benefit of being connected to the internet on the go.

Back then, iPhones or apps were not things I thought often about. I was too broke to buy Apple products, and for someone who loved graphic and editorial design, apps looked…well, unenticing. Instead, I was fascinated by the world of Italian and Scandinavian product design. At university we would study pieces of furniture or lighting fixtures for their artistic expression, but also for their use of materials, the way these had been produced, and their ergonomics, or, in other words, how “smart” the product felt when you used it. We trained how to go from ideas to materialised products that could be produced, if possible, in scale; we were industrial designers in training. The worlds of physical and digital design were not yet connected in my mind. Neither were they connected in our bachelor’s curriculum. Product, back then, meant physical. Sure, there were some mentions of the field of human-machine interaction when we studied automotive design history. We also did some basic user testing of a website for our Ergonomics class, which was my first stint with interface design and usability. That said, we were never given much context around all these “digital” aspects of design, their connection to “industrial design” and how they would fit within our future design jobs. So, how on earth did I end up having a design job at a software agency? Like we say in Spain, “it has rained quite a bit since then…” Let me take you through the journey of finding my place as a designer.

After four years of studying in Alcoy and Valencia, I knew I had enjoyed a great university experience and felt very lucky for it all. That said, I was feeling lost and anxious. I was so close to reaching a goal I had been working on for years, and finally becoming an official “designer”, but I had no clue what to do next. Designer with quotation marks, because that’s how I felt about it; was I even already a designer?

With graduation looming around the corner and in the thick of an internal crisis, I decided to extend my studies for some months to go on an Erasmus Exchange. Looking back, I realise it was the best choice I could have made, but back then, it felt like I was taking advantage of my family’s support instead of facing my uncertainty about entering the workforce. But what seemed driven by fear, was probably just me trying to listen to my gut feeling; I was not done learning about design, and I had not yet found what aspect of this very broad expertise I wanted to pursue as a career.

So there I was, on a snowy night in February 2015, landing in The Netherlands to spend the coming six months taking courses on “Strategic Product Design”. This was one of the TU Delft’s design faculty masters and, luckily, I was allowed to attend master courses because my bachelor's in Spain was one year longer than in The Netherlands, so I had the same amount of credits as Dutch students without having even graduated. It would be in this place, and through the field of strategic design that I would start to understand the throughline between industrial and digital design.

At first, there was an adaptation period. The TU Delft faculty of Industrial Design had its own language that you had to learn quickly to fit in among the local designers-in-training. Everybody seemed to know words like “business model canvas”, “design thinking”, “personas” and an endless amount of branded design tools and methods that I am sure were never mentioned in my studies in Spain. Oh, and The Netherlands loves an acronym! My courses had names like BPS, DTM and even LSD. That said, the faculty was beautiful and comfortable, the students ambitious, outgoing and perpetually inspired, and the teachers welcoming and almost always offered a very close treatment.

I fell in love from the get-go with the field of strategic design. At school, they taught us that design was a process and approach to making sense of things that could be applied to creating new products, but also to help shape companies, services, and even cities and societies. I learned about using my designer skills and processes to help set up innovation processes or even help citizens participate in designing their cities and communities. My previous design education was a bit too fixated on the form of what was being designed, but in this new faculty, the focus was on the practice of designing itself, and how fluid and valuable our skill set was.

Three months after I arrived, I submitted my formal application to their master’s in Strategic Product Design, with a motivation letter written from the iconic TU Delft library. In my application I tried to tell my story and be honest: I’ve had a taste of strategic design, and I want it all; I am having a great exchange student experience, but I want to be “all in”; I was quite lost before, this place helped me find out what I want to do. In August, after a long wait, they told me I was in. The master was pretty tough at times, but I loved it. And my new understanding of design helped me become open and curious about many other “things” that could be designed, including online experiences and digital products. I had spent so many years studying that by the time I graduated with my master’s, digital design had become the new norm.

Almost a decade after coming to The Netherlands, and fourteen years after I started my first studies as a designer, I still love physical design. I’ve come to realise I love pretty much all types of design. The idea of creating new things that solve an issue and function well, no matter the format, is what I enjoy the most about it. However, I am most driven by the challenges of designing companies and processes. If these are applied to organisations with a physical or digital output, or that offer a service or infrastructure instead, it’s all the same. Now I know what it means for me to be a designer: the value I bring is on the skillset and approach, being able to structure both the exploration and production process and knowing when to fall back on either one of them, and I am very lucky to be able to do just that every day at Miyagami.

My journey in the creative field began in high school, where I studied Visual Arts. While I enjoyed the artistic freedom, I soon faced a dilemma: I wanted to do more than just create art. I didn't want my success to be solely guided by creativity but also by hard work that could ultimately lead to improvements in people's lives.

This realization led me to design. Design, as I see it, is about solving problems and making everyday life easier and more beautiful. It was the perfect blend of creativity and practicality that I had been searching for.

I pursued a degree in Communication Design at the prestigious Faculty of Fine Arts, University of Lisbon. However, even in this environment, I felt something was off. Editorial Design, the focus of much of my studies, seemed like a dying field. I worried about the challenges I might face in finding work in such a competitive area.

However, everything changed with a course unit called Design Technologies. This introduced me to the exciting intersection of design and technology—fields that touch everyone’s daily lives. It was a game-changer. I realized that combining these two disciplines could be the future I was looking for. This sparked my passion for No/Low Code Development, where I could blend my design skills with the power of technology.

After two rewarding years working as a UI/UX Designer and Webflow Developer in Portugal, I felt the need for new challenges and better opportunities. This desire led me to the Netherlands. The first months, or nearly the first year, were tough. Adapting to a new country, a new culture, and a new way of life was challenging, but I was determined.

My perseverance paid off when I joined Miyagami, a company where I work alongside a talented team of designers and developers. The learning experience has been incredible, and I feel more fulfilled than ever. Here, I’ve found a place where I can continue to grow, merging design and technology in ways that make a real difference.

But new challenges await, my love for the technology path is ever-growing. While I will never forget my roots in design, I want to focus more on Software Development—a field that fascinates me. I believe that, alongside Miyagami, I can grow and make an impact in this exciting area.

Coming from a large family: holidays, birthdays, and pretty much every other excuse we could find were always spent with my grandparents, aunts and uncles, friends of the family (also referred to as aunts and uncles), and of course my peers: my four sisters and my cousins. Growing up as a kid with plenty of strong role models, I thought adults had it all figured out. It seemed logical at the time. Adults had jobs, paid bills, and always had all the answers to every question I had. Surely that kind of confidence came from knowing exactly what you were doing. I assumed that one day I’d cross some magical threshold and suddenly all the answers would be mine – as if everything would just fall into place once I turned 18.

This obviously never happened.

As I got older, I realized the truth: adults are just kids who grew old and started taking responsibility - some of them, at least. But most are just winging it. A couple of years ago, I was unexpectedly entrusted with the responsibility of helping to guide a new generation. Since then, I’ve come to appreciate my own parents even more – not because they always got everything right, but because they did their best to teach us everything that was important to them. Of course, like every generation, I don’t agree with all the choices my parents made. And I’m fully aware that one day the next generations will likely criticize us in the same way. And that’s okay. I think that’s the way it’s supposed to work. It’s all part of the process. The ability to critically reflect on what we think we know and adjust course is one of the most important lessons I’ve learned – or at least, one I’m still figuring out. I think it’s important to recognize that believing you know something can often become a lesson in humility – and if it doesn’t, it probably should.. Life is an ongoing experiment of striving to be better and trying out new things. My grandmother started Pilates at 75. You’re not too old to  switch things up.

I’ve found many parallels between parenting and leadership. Whether it’s guiding a team or raising a child, it’s not about having all the answers – or pretending you do. It’s about setting a clear direction, building trust, and encouraging everyone, including yourself, to take ownership and grow from their experiences. Sometimes you fail spectacularly. Sometimes you succeed. But either way, it’s a collective journey. If you’re doing it right, you’re not managing from afar – you’re in it with them, navigating challenges, celebrating victories, and evolving alongside them.

Patience has never been my strong suit, so naturally the universe (with its impeccable sense of irony) has given me countless opportunities to improve. During my years of building and leading my own team, I believed my greatest value came from working tirelessly. If I wasn’t pushing forward, I felt like I was stagnating – wasting time and not improving. Work consumed my life, and my life was defined by work.

Then one day, an accident forced me to stop. I had no choice but to slow down. I came face-to-face with my own impatience, particularly with myself, and had to start learning the importance of acceptance. It took me quite a while, but I began to see that growth doesn’t always come from constant motion. Sometimes, it comes from pausing, reflecting, and allowing yourself the space to breathe and recalibrate. It wasn’t some grand revelation, but rather a quiet realization: patience isn’t about simply waiting; it’s about accepting the time it takes for growth to happen. I began to understand that meaningful change – whether in yourself or the world around you – requires persistence, acceptance, and the willingness to move forward steadily, even when progress feels slow.

Like every millennial, I suffer from the trying-to-make-the-world-a-better-place syndrome. And, like most, I try.  I used to subscribe to the mantra “do or do not, there is no try”, but I’ve since reconsidered.  I  believe trying matters. Learning new things matters. Abandoning your previously held beliefs because you learned something new matters. Sharing what you’ve learned matters and teaching others matters.

So here’s my takeaway: keep learning, keep teaching, and stay humble. Embrace the discomfort of not knowing everything, because those moments are when real progress is made. And remember, whether you’re leading a team, raising kids, or simply navigating your own life, you’re not supposed to have all the answers. The point is to keep figuring it out and do your best with what you have, learning a little more each step of the way.

This summer, I found myself in the middle of a job search, feeling a bit uncertain about what exactly I wanted. I wasn’t in any rush, but I knew I needed a change. I spent weeks scrolling through job boards, scanning opportunities, and honestly, nothing really stood out. I applied to a few positions here and there, but I wasn’t feeling particularly enthusiastic about any of them.

Then, one day, while casually browsing online, I came across an opening at Miyagami. It wasn’t a company I had heard much about before, but something about the role seemed interesting. I didn’t overthink it; I just sent in my application, figuring it was worth a shot. I wasn’t expecting much at all—it felt like just another resume sent off into the void, like so many before. It was one of those moments where you apply and forget about it, moving on to the next thing without getting your hopes up.

But life has a funny way of working out when you least expect it. Not long after, I got a response, and suddenly, what felt like just another random application turned into an exciting new opportunity.

I had some experience working as an office assistant before, so when I got the opportunity to join Miyagami as an Office Manager, everything just clicked. It felt familiar, like slipping back into a routine that I knew well. The tasks, the environment—it all reminded me of my previous work, but this time with more responsibility and room to grow. It felt like I had found my place again.

What I enjoy most about my role at Miyagami is the variety. I get to ensure the office runs smoothly, making sure we have the supplies we need and the workflows stay efficient. But it’s not just about the tasks. There’s a sense of comfort and belonging here that I didn’t expect to find. From my very first day at Miyagami, I knew I’d landed somewhere special. The team was incredibly welcoming, and I felt an instant connection with the people I was working with. Everyone was approachable, and it felt like they genuinely cared about making sure I settled in.

On top of that, studying international business has made me appreciate the opportunity to work for a company like Miyagami even more - working in an international environment, seeing how the business operates on a larger scale, and being part of something that resonates with my studies makes the job even more fulfilling. It feels like the perfect place to grow both professionally and personally.

As far as I can remember, I have always liked words. Big fancy words –in all fairness, many fit that category when you are eight. Finding the perfect word to talk about something was somewhat exhilarating back then.

Years later, when it was time to choose a college major, it only made sense that I would turn toward a profession that would allow me to use and play with words daily. That’s how I landed on Journalism as my career path.

Just like I liked writing in French (my mother tongue), I also had a passion for another language, English. This being said, any person raised in France will know that the way we are taught foreign languages leaves a lot to be desired. To put it plainly, it quite sucks. Lucky for me though, I had a thing for the American culture and consumed a lot –really, a lot– of content in English from YouTube (It was also the golden age of old-school beauty gurus, and I relished it). That helped me tremendously and allowed me to manage the language well. Well enough at least to be accepted in the BA Journalism program of an American university.

Five years later, I came back home with a Bachelor’s degree, a life partner, and a dog. My traveling adventures did not stop there, though; they took me to Amsterdam, where I pursued an MA in New Media & Digital Culture.

As I was finishing my thesis and looking for a job, I came across SEO or Search Engine Optimization. A new world kind of opened up; one where words were given a new role. Not only did they express emotions and transmit ideas, but they now also had the power to affect how websites and their content ranked online. It added a new layer of fun for me.

After learning as much as I could about this new topic, I joined the growing international team of a famous Dutch department store as an SEO copywriter. I later moved on to the role of SEO specialist, which was a great opportunity but lacked the creative aspect of copywriting. So, learning that my journey there, and that of many of my colleagues, was over because of a company reorganization several years later brought about a bittersweet feeling.

Between the layoff and the fact that I now had a baby girl, I chose to go the freelancing route. Offering everything from SEO strategy to content creation services, this change allowed me to bring copywriting and creativity back to my work, which I was very pleased about.

Switching to freelancing also led me to work with Miyagami, as the company needed new SEO-optimized blog posts for its website. After several successful months of collaboration, I was offered the opportunity to join the dynamic, innovative, and ever-growing team from Miyagami as an in-house SEO specialist.

Accepting the offer felt like the natural next step in my professional journey. Joining Miyagami was not just about continuing my work in SEO; it was about becoming part of a team that values creativity and innovation and is honestly a lot of fun.

If I had to reflect on my path, it is clear that words have remained the constant thread running through every chapter of my (professional) life. And, I am now thrilled to bring this passion to Miyagami.

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