A list of 100 things meme works as follows:

Original Directions:
bold = I've done it
italicized = not done it but want to
underline = not done it and DO NOT WANT TO EVER
( Under the cut. )

Three things that happened lately:

- I went to Belgium with aka_phoenix  to be present at yellow-star's goodbye ceremony / funeral. Like Phoenix, I didn't know her personally; yet I enjoyed her very positive presence in the forums, and I have a fond memory of the time when she won a 10 kg box of release fodder in my Newbies prize drawing. Since someone was kind enough to deliver the box to her home address in Belgium I could send an even bigger box so she ended up winning 20 kgs of books, and her surprise and happiness were so great they were contagious.
I'm still glad she won that prize drawing.
Yellow-Star, even though you're gone forever, you'll always be a winner to me.

Phoenix described the ceremony quite well in her journal so I don't have much to add. It was a bit strange for me to be at a religious service, but I'm glad I went. I'm pretty sure that our presence meant a lot to Yellow-Star's father and that alone was a good reason to be there.

- I joined stoneshop  in helping out at a motorcycle trials event. They always need so-called observers to watch the participants closely and see if they touch the ground with their feet, or make other mistakes while riding through the course. They get penalty points if they do.
It's a fun type of event because the sport is not based on speed but on balance and control, which makes it interesting to watch. For a competition sport, it has a decidedly relaxed and non-competitive atmosphere; riders will congratulate each other on good results, or point out tricky bits of the course to each other while exploring the course on foot before riding it.
Each course has different routes for different skill levels, marked with arrows of a specific colour, so each rider can ride at his or her own skill level. It's typically a parent-child event where fathers compete against their sons or daughters. Mothers, not so much; maybe in time we'll see that too.
I managed to punch my finger with the punching pliers that we used to mark the participants' cards to show the results. I'd never thought that was possible, but it was. Apart from that, it was a really nice way to spend a day outdoors.

- Last night I dreamt I found my Leatherman (which I hadn't been able to find for a while, and I was obviously starting to miss it). Then when putting on my working clothes this morning, I found it in one of my safety shoes.

My, this entry sure needs a lot of tags.

We had a wonderful time there but typing it all in feels like homework! So I'll just tell you a tiny bit about it and leave the rest to the imagination. ( Under a cut for your friends page's sake )

Or, to be more accurate, I was, but it was Content Strike day so I didn't post.

I started my own business 18 years ago, on March 21th. That's right, the first day of spring. I chose that because it seemed like a nice symbol of starting something new.
On that day, I first went to the Chamber of Commerce to have my business registered. That wasn't all that easy because there wasn't such an entry as 'signwriter' or 'signwriter/decorator' in the database and they kept asking me if I painted houses or made paintings, and I kept saying: it's something in between those two. But they finally worked out a way of doing it, so I was in the records and out of there.
After that, I went to Social Security and told them they could remove me from their records, as I wouldn't be needing them anymore, and anyway, being registered with the Chamber of Commerce cancelled my right to get any money from them. They were friendly and very concerned, asking me: are you sure you want to do this? I told them yes, and that I'd already done it.

It felt great. Cheerful and heroic music was playing in my head and I felt as if the sun were shining down on me all day long. It was a very happy, exciting and hopeful day.
Now, 18 years later, I'm still happy I took that step. Sure, I'm still not rich and I guess I never will be, unless playing in the lottery finally pays off. But I'm doing something that I like, that I'm good at, and I've learned so much. The 18-years ago me would be very impressed with the level of skills I have now acquired. And I'm looking forward to learning much more.

So, here's to my humble business. It started out from nothing, and it's still not much, but hey, it's how I've been making a living. The business is something I have created; it wouldn't exist if not for me.  And it's a wonderful thing to have.

If you read this, if your eyes are passing over this right now, (even if we don't speak often) please post a comment with a COMPLETELY MADE UP AND FICTIONAL memory of you and me. It can be anything you want - good or bad - BUT IT HAS TO BE FAKE. When you're finished, post this little paragraph in your journal and be surprised (or mortified) about what people DON'T ACTUALLY remember about you.

(Saw this in miketroll's and diamondlucy's journal and liked the idea.)

...and did today: buying a coconut.
When I was a kid, we regarded them as pretty special. Opening them was an interesting ritual: first, a big nail was hammered though two of the dark 'eyes' on one side of the nut, so the juice could run out; then, the whole thing would need to be sawed in half... because, of course, we wanted to use the halves for some project. I can't remember what we actually did with them... oh, yeah, we filled them with used frying fat and bird seed, and then hung them in a tree for the birds during winter.

(Originally posted on MySpace)
Those of you who can read Dutch, and enjoy the few Africa tidbits I have posted here, might like to visit my Travel Scrapbook. It has lots of stories.
Information of a more factual kind about this trip can be found here.


The pic shows me riding through a banana plantation in Ghana.

(Originally posted on MySpace)
Those of you who can read Dutch, and enjoy the few Africa tidbits I have posted here, might like to visit my Travel Scrapbook. It has lots of stories.
Information of a more factual kind about this trip can be found here.


The pic shows me riding through a banana plantation in Ghana.

(Originally posted on MySpace)
I met a writer once
His name was Belcampo, most of you won't have heard of him. I don't think much of his work has been translated. He's dead now, lived to a ripe old age too. I met him when I was 18 and he was well over 80. He mainly wrote stories of a genre that's hard to describe. They deal with the impossible or the very unlikely, but written in such a way that it all appears normal. Some of them could be described as what-if stories. If I have to compare him to someone you would know about, I'd say he was the Dutch Roald Dahl.

He was my favourite writer at the time (in fact he still is), and I did a school assignment about his work. I wrote to tell him that, and he kindly sent me a book so I could read it (it wasn't for sale anywhere), I paid him of course, and sent him a copy of the assignment when it was finished. He then sent me a very friendly letter complimenting me on my work. I was over the moon.

Then when I was in his city for something unrelated, I found myself on his doorstep. I was too timid to ring the doorbell. But luckily his wife came home and found me there and I explained why I was loitering on her doorstep. She immediately invited me in, saying 'Herman will be pleased to hear he has a visitor!'
And he was. He had been cutting out pictures of paintings and pasting them in a scrapbook. His eyes lit up when I told him who I was.
We had a lively conversation that lasted all afternoon and most of the evening. He was a very fast and original thinker, always seeing sides of an issue that no one else would even think of. He was witty and funny, too. And he treated me like an equal.

I was invited to stay for dinner, and helped with cooking. I can honestly say I have fried tofu in Belcampo's kitchen. None of you will find this impressing, except for a small selection of Dutch people.
I can't remember the conversation itself but I remember that afternoon as one of the most special in my life so far. It felt like a historical moment, a very long one.

(Originally posted on MySpace)
I met a writer once
His name was Belcampo, most of you won't have heard of him. I don't think much of his work has been translated. He's dead now, lived to a ripe old age too. I met him when I was 18 and he was well over 80. He mainly wrote stories of a genre that's hard to describe. They deal with the impossible or the very unlikely, but written in such a way that it all appears normal. Some of them could be described as what-if stories. If I have to compare him to someone you would know about, I'd say he was the Dutch Roald Dahl.

He was my favourite writer at the time (in fact he still is), and I did a school assignment about his work. I wrote to tell him that, and he kindly sent me a book so I could read it (it wasn't for sale anywhere), I paid him of course, and sent him a copy of the assignment when it was finished. He then sent me a very friendly letter complimenting me on my work. I was over the moon.

Then when I was in his city for something unrelated, I found myself on his doorstep. I was too timid to ring the doorbell. But luckily his wife came home and found me there and I explained why I was loitering on her doorstep. She immediately invited me in, saying 'Herman will be pleased to hear he has a visitor!'
And he was. He had been cutting out pictures of paintings and pasting them in a scrapbook. His eyes lit up when I told him who I was.
We had a lively conversation that lasted all afternoon and most of the evening. He was a very fast and original thinker, always seeing sides of an issue that no one else would even think of. He was witty and funny, too. And he treated me like an equal.

I was invited to stay for dinner, and helped with cooking. I can honestly say I have fried tofu in Belcampo's kitchen. None of you will find this impressing, except for a small selection of Dutch people.
I can't remember the conversation itself but I remember that afternoon as one of the most special in my life so far. It felt like a historical moment, a very long one.

(Originally posted on MySpace.)
Lake Chad, as many people know, is disappearing. I've seen fishermen now living over a day's walk from the lake shore. Not many people know how strange and beautiful a place it is. Let me illustrate this by telling you one of the things that touched my heart there.
My travel companion and me were crossing the former Lake Chad. This is a very varied piste of two to three days. Most of it is not very hard. When we were there, there had been some rain already, and a thin, wiry variety of grass had started to sprout, making the dunes much easier to cross. It was not very hot (35 degrees celsius at most).
We were resting, drinking luke-warm water from our jerrycan, in a field of small white lilies, that looked slender and delicate. There were a few birds to be heard, and the ever present desert wind, but not much else.
Suddenly we felt a slight trembling in the sand and the next moment we found ourselves eye to eye with two men on camels. The camels were adorned with copper bells and colorful rugs. The men were dressed in deep blue gowns and wore white turbans wrapped around their heads.
They were every bit as surprised as we were. Nothing about their appearance gave away in which age they were living. They looked exactly like people there must have looked hundreds of years ago. And they were traveling. Just like us. We admired their camels while they did the same with our bikes. There was no language that we shared, so we could not speak to them; but we greeted one another courteously. After that, we all just stared for a while and smiled.

A few moments passed; my companion asked (using gestures) wether he could take a picture. They seemed to feel it was OK. So he did.

By the time we got to see that picture (15.000 kilometers from there) it turned out to be a bit of a disappointment. The magic of the moment was not caught on film. It hardly ever is.

(Originally posted on MySpace)
...during my motorcycle trip in 2000, among others:

- various monkeys, mainly in Mali
- 1 elephant (not in a park) in Burkina Faso
- a wolf-like animal that was running along with us for a while, in Mauretania
- a bright green snake that was crossing the road
- flamingoes and pelicans and other birds in Mauretania
- a desert fox, very pretty, in Sudan
- giraffes in Niger
- small white herons of the kind that keep the parasites off the cattle
- an ant-eater in Chad (very briefly)
- a tiny little cameleon, bright green, in Chad
- a very big scorpion without a tail, looks like a spider, inside our mosquito net... the scorpion didn't survive this encounter
- a LOT of frogs in a toilet/bathroom in Senegal, which was good because they kept the cockroaches away
- wonderful vultures in Chad Lake!

(Originally posted on MySpace)
...during my motorcycle trip in 2000, among others:

- various monkeys, mainly in Mali
- 1 elephant (not in a park) in Burkina Faso
- a wolf-like animal that was running along with us for a while, in Mauretania
- a bright green snake that was crossing the road
- flamingoes and pelicans and other birds in Mauretania
- a desert fox, very pretty, in Sudan
- giraffes in Niger
- small white herons of the kind that keep the parasites off the cattle
- an ant-eater in Chad (very briefly)
- a tiny little cameleon, bright green, in Chad
- a very big scorpion without a tail, looks like a spider, inside our mosquito net... the scorpion didn't survive this encounter
- a LOT of frogs in a toilet/bathroom in Senegal, which was good because they kept the cockroaches away
- wonderful vultures in Chad Lake!

(Originally posted on MySpace)
One of the most unusual places I have been to lies in Sudan. Near the city of Dongola, which is on the banks of the Nile, there is a stretch of desert which is entirely covered in flat, pinkish pebbles.
The area is not flat, it consists of small, rounded hills, all roughly the same size. The pebbles look very neat, as if someone laid them out one by one and then used fine sand to fill in the spaces between. So they're embedded in the sand without being covered by it.
There are some tracks but they are hardly visible because the surface looks the same wherever you go. You don't need them either, because the terrain is very easy to ride through. It's almost like riding on tarmac.
The hills (pebble dunes, you could call them) just go on and on, and you just ride up and down all the time. Pinkish pebbles as far as you can see.

 The scenery looks almost artificial because it's so uniform.