Hairvolution: The Update

For those who missed the Hairvolution, I suggest you take a trip down memory highway. And even if you remember, the Hairvolution video is still as awesome as when you first saw it. So, having sent my hair samples away to a charity called Locks of Love, I was concerned that my hair was slightly short of the ten inches requested by their website, but apparently it was enough. Here is a photo of the postcard they send as a thank-you. (and proof that this is a real charity that I really contributed to). I actually wrote a small note along with my hair sample saying that it was a shame that not many people know of this charity, and that there are no known equivalents closer to Holland or Europe, but that even if my hair was unuseable that they should consider it as a show of support.

Sure, they spelled my name incorrectly - and trust me, they completely mangled up my address - but it was a very nice gesture. Besides, who really expects an American to understand foreign languages? They probably think that the Dutch just misspell everything. They might-well be right.

Anyway, even though I hate kids with their dirty little hands and their questions like "are you a man or a woman?", I am very happy to have contributed to this cause. I strongly reccommend that if you have a spare 10 inches lying around, that you give it to children. Unless of course, you are a well-hung Catholic priest. Actually, that was a great part of Locks of Love, that it is a non-religious charity, which means that they do not discriminate and would help a child even if he or she is Catholic.

In related news, my hair has grown back to a more reasonable level, and almost everyone agrees that it is a huge improvement, including strangers who only vaguely knew me. So, the Hairvolution has been a gigantic success, for the self-esteem of some sick child in a society which is incredibly vain, not to mention that it was also a giant boost of my own vanity. It was a win-win, and I declare that the Hairvolution was one of the best ideas I have ever had.

I am a LomographerNo, this does not (necessarily) mean that I am sexually attracted to lemmings. That would "Lemography". Those cheeky little critters. No, lomography is photography with a fish-eye lens. I was given one recently and so have been able to take a new look at this country. And since that is basically what I try to do on AtHome in Ho-Land, here are a few of the better ones, along with cheeky comments where appropriate.


We start with something very Dutch: Tulips. I have worked at the Tulip park a fair bit this season, and I am sick to death of those stupid flowers.


This is in the seaside town of Katwijk, known for its conservative Christians who frown upon neighbours who hang out laundry on Sundays and its beaches which are nice about 3 months of every year. And even during those three months, you'll be lucky to get weather like this.
This is a typical forest of East Netherlands. Tall trees evenly spaced (basically all the forests are planted by people), and easy access walking paths through them. Seriously, on this very path, we saw many cyclists, a horse-drawn carriage, and an old man on a segway. Yes, a freaking segway.
And here is a goodie. In the middle of this forest is this giant hole in the earth. Well, remember, this is Holland, which is flatter than Kelly Ripa, Kate Moss, Keira Knightley and Natalie Portman. (I am stealing this idea from Bill Simmon's 28th August 2009 mailbag of the "A-team" which is the top five hottest females with A-cups)

This place is called the Solse Gat, which was formed by a giant piece of ice that remained after the last ice-age. Or, if you prefer to believe in stupid things, this was the place where a monastry was, where all the monks sold their souls to the devil. Then, their monastry was sucked into the earth like a giant reverse anus.

A Chinese gardens near Groningen. These gardens were huge, and it was created by authentic Chinese people who were brought in as temporary workers to make these gardens. This just goes to show how much unused money Holland has, and how willing Chinese people are to get it.
This building next to the station Leiden Centraal. It has gone up very rapidly. The sheer ugliness of the building show that again, also show that we have way too much unused money.

A windmill on beautiful day with a Dutch cloud in the sky, with a carnival in front of it. Carnies: the under-scrotum of society.

This is my favourite city to walk around in Holland is Den Haag. For some reason it translated to "The Hague". I don't understand. I mean, French people don't call New York "Nouvelle York". Why can't people just mispronounce this city name just like they do with any other Dutch city?






One last note on the Lomograph, it is apparently an old communist invention, intended to be a communistic way to represent the world. That sounds about right. Expect another installment of Lomography in the future.

Spot the Difference

Take a close look at these two photos and spot the difference. It may be difficult to see, but there is one major discrepancy between the two.
These photos were taken in quick succession, so what could possibly be different? I'll tell you. In the 2nd photo, I have just paid off all my student debt. ALL of it. One click, and suddenly, I had a net-worth of zero.

It felt amazing. I was suddenly worth nothing. After years and years of owing money, going back to school, accumilating debt, in one moment I absolved all of my debt.

This all happened a few weeks ago. So, how is all this working out for me?

I am blessed to be Dutch, as it made my student lifestyle much more bearable. I have always lived minimalistically. Hell, I even became mostly vegetarian. And no, it wasn't because of some morally-superior stance that most vegetarians have; I love tearing into a piece of animal flesh as much as the next carnivore. No, I became vegetarian to save money. So, since 2004 I have been living as if I was poor, just to minimise my money-lending.

If I hadn't done this, I am positive that I would be in bigger debt than Greece. However, because I was a student, I always had a safety net. I could always borrow more money if I needed to.

But now, no longer a student, and having paid off my debt, for the first time in my life, I am actually poor. I live week by week. I take the scraps of work that are offered to me, and I dread the letter in the mail containing bills. Being poor is rough!

On the other hand, I love that I am living the romantic artistic lifestyle. I now have the opportunity to become a rags-to-riches story.

The other day, I was coming home from a day of work at the dreadfully touristy flower park of Keukenhof. There was a huge line for the buses, so I decided to use the time to write something. Sure, writing while standing isn't ideal, but I can't waste 90 minutes of my life just waiting. After a while, a girl in the line started up a conversation with me:

Her: "Are you writing a book?"
Me: "No, I'm just writing a diary."
Her: "Oh, I thought you might be a writer."
Me: "Well, I want to be, one day."
Her: "So did you come here [to the flower park] for inspiration?"
Me: "No, I came here to work. Even a writer has to eat."

So, my recent brush with authentic poorness has taught me a valuable lesson. Even a writer has to eat.

Lentils, probably.

Hopefully soon I will be able to take a new "after" photo, one where the difference won't be so hard to spot.

Yuki Puppy: A tribute When I was about 16 or 17, I had a nightmare. At the time, I was sleeping in the caravan. No, I am not a gypsy. The caravan was a basically spare bedroom and it was where I liked to sleep during the summer holidays and weekends, and it was right next to the dog house where my beloved Yuki slept. But in the dream, she was just lying there, lifeless. I woke up, terrified. I slowly went outside to check on Yuki dreading what I had just seen. I opened the kennel, and she came out wondering why the hell I was waking her up in the small hours of the morning. I held her and cried. I cried like a little bitch.

Now, not to be all manly, but I could remember and count all the times I have cried since then on my fingers. This may surprise you, not necessarily the fact that I can count to ten, but that I am such an emotionless shell of a human being. Yuki showed me at that moment, that inside my deceptively strong shell, I did have a heart.

There was another moment that confirmed this suspicion of mine. Some asshole in a 4wD vehicle came barrelling down the road that goes alongside our house. Yuki got scared, and didn't listen to me properly, and the car ended up going between us. As soon as the car passed and I saw that she was okay, I ran to Yuki with my hand ready in spanking position. But all I could do was hold her and say "don't ever scare me like that again".

Yuki died this week, as an 11-year old puppy after a bone tumor was discovered and she rapidly lost the use of her legs. Now that my nightmare has come true, I have to try to express how much I loved that ball of fur and happiness. Losing a beloved pet is something most of us all have to face too many times in our lives, and it sucks. But I won't be spouting a bunch of cliches about her being 'a part of the family', as true as that cliche may be. I truly believe that she made me who I am. Or at least, the good parts of my personality are because of her.

See, we got her Yuki when I was at the difficult early teenage years. I didn't have a licence yet, and I was slowly drifting away from my childhood friends whose interests were different and not always entirely legal. We got Yuki in November which is the start of New Zealand summer. This is relevant because I did not play basketball during summer (which would otherwise take up most of my time), and it was just before the long summer holidays. So instead of long days in front of the television and amiga 600 computer (with 1 Mega-byte!) I spent the entire summer playing with our new puppy. Being a border collie, which is the smartest breed of dog known to mankind, she learnt tricks faster than we could think of new ones to teach. We even emptied out the public library shelves on dog training, and Yuki was easily an A+ student. At some stage, I made the conscious decision to speak to her as I would anyone else, allowing her to listen carefully and pick out the words relevant to her, so it became very normal to just chat to her. She always listened to me, even if I had nothing to say, which even back then was most of the time. Yuki was of course very attentive to other people too (we even asked others to give her commands to teach this to her), but all this time I spent with Yuki in this first summer created a bond that still makes it feel like she was secretly my dog.

Over the years, I tried so many things with her, including creating an agility course in our own garden, which involved hammering together some jumps and other obsticles. She learned to jump them in no time, before I learnt that I had made them much higher than competition-level jumps. I started playing competitive frisbee at school, and Yuki helped me practice my forehands. I also taught her to jump off my back before I realised that her claws had torn open the skin on my back.

But the trick I loved the most was how she knew all her toys by name. I could ask for a specific toy, and she would search the entire house, or garden, until she found it. Because of this, she had more toys than I did as a child. Every Christmas I would buy her new toys. We all bought her toys when we could - as long as it could be called something different. Of course we also taught her to put her toys "in the bin". We couldn't have a messy dog in the house. She also coincided with the purchase of my Minnolta 500 SLR camera, meaning I have a surplus of photos from these early years. I wish I had access to them right now, because she was so damn photogenic.

I also like to think that we taught Yuki manners. For example, I used to purposely leave a dog treat on the coffee table and leave the room for a few minutes.Some people call me cruel, but it was a challenge for her too. What's more, when I came back and the treat was still there, she was more happy that I was happy, than actually recieving the treat.

Yes, I was strict. I never once in her life fed her food scraps. If I dropped food, I would pick it up, which is pretty amazing when you consider that I was a moody teenager. But at some stage, I started feeling bad that perhaps I had taken away some of her doggy instincts. So, I set about teaching her the most difficult trick of all: "speak". I had play with her, chase her, let her chase me, corner her, and then wait until she started barking. Then I would say "speak" and try give her a doggy treat. Once she mastered "speak" and suddenly wished she had an inside-voice, so I had to teach her to "talk". Easy. She also had an inside voice. What a fantastic dog.

However, from the beginning I sometimes turned it around to let her play the way she wanted to. I taught her how to succees and thrive in a human world, but she taught me to act more like a dog. If she wanted to chase me, I would run away, all through our garden. I must have flatted more than a few shrubs in playing this game. I'd hide and let her weak sense of smell sniff me out. (border collies are eyesight dogs.) I remember even during that first summer when she found a grasshopper. I was there for her "first kill".

A few years later, the summer before my 16th birthday, I had my restricted liscence, which meant I could drive a car as long as there were no other people in the car. My parents abused this fact, and said I could use the car, but only if i took Yuki for a walk at the beach. Those were some of the happiest moments of my youth. And as muh as I loved driving, Yuki loved going for drives more. Warm weather, windows down, reggae music up, dog in the rearview, beach ahead... I am yet to find a happier combination of circumstances, and trust me, I have tried. So at the same time I was gaining all this freedom, I also had this awesome responsibility. I had pretty much raised Yuki. She was like a daughter to me, only she had good co-ordination and was able to catch a ball.

I loved to bring her with me whenever I could. I even brought her to school when I had to work late in the school darkroom. And of course, there is no better pick-up line that "do you want to come and walk my dog?" I still have good friends who I swear only befriended me to get close to Yuki. And I am so proud of that. They weren't even dog-people.

Unfortunately, I grew up. Yuki's name almost predicted that I would end up in Japan, which is very far away. While overseas, she was the only thing I missed. Occasionally, I would find myself in front of the dog-toy section of department stores, similar to how a raging alcoholic would miraculously end up in front of the hard-liquor. Sometimes I would buy a toy to send home. At the end of the year I didn't want to leave Japan, but Yuki was the only reason I wanted to come back. My orders to my parents on my immenent arrival was "do not bring Yuki to the airport", because I wanted a proper home-welcome. The welcome was almost worth the year away. My univiersity years were 3-month stints of this, and I would always try bring back a toy for her. It now seems so obvious to me. I have been obsessing about the concept of "home" for so long. Is it a place, is it an idea? No, it was a puppy.

In 2006, after my graduation, I had one precious half-year of quality time with Yuki. Sure, coming back to live at home for 6 months was difficult, especially since I had few friends in my hometown anymore, but Yuki made me really appreciate this time. Especially since after then, I didn't see her for 3 1/2 years.

Again, being overseas, she was the only thing I truly missed. It is difficult to skype with a dog. At any opportunity I would talk about her, show photos. I even made an entire lesson for my Japanese students with using the many videos and pictures I have of her of her. An alert student even commented that she could see how much I loved that dog.

Anyway, the rest is recent history. 3 1/2 years later, Yuki hadn't changed at all. Sure, she had a little grey hair above the eyes, but she still had that puppy-fur behind the ears, and looked up at me like an intellegent 4-year-old with her whole life ahead of her. We had a great 3 weeks together. Long walks, long drives, and we even bought some new toys of which she learnt the names within minutes. I missed the dog smell, dog slobber, and the feel of warm dog poo through a plastic bag. I knew that when I left her that she was 11 years old. But I always presumed I would see her at least one more time. One more walk. One more drive. One more "welcome home".

It wasn't the way it played out. Within three weeks of the first signs of trouble, the bone tumor was too much to handle. It is cruel and unfair, but I can't complain. I got more than my fair share. She taught me so much, she let me be myself, and it was just unfortunate that 'myself' was not in the same town and country as her. The last week has been so difficult, knowing that my puppy is sick, and I can't do anything about it. I went to the beach last week, and I felt like there was no point. What is the point in walking without a dog? Why else come to a beach? The last time I saw Yuki just a few months ago, she was disappointed she couldn't come in the car with us. It cut me up thinking about this as I began the long journey back to Holland. On the plane with the in-flight entertainment, I came across the Jack Johnson song "Go On", which seemed perfect for the occasion. I listened to it so many times on the flight, on the verge of tears.

The tears never came... Until the nightmare, finally, came true.

I am sorry for leaving you. I miss you. I love you. And I am who I am because of you.


Thank you to everyone who has been even but a small part of Yuki's life. And to those who haven't but still know me, I assure you, you have Yuki to thank.