As the sun slowly disappeared behind the distant hills, we began to question our irrational endeavor. Sore feet prevented us from enjoying the unstrained experience. Suburban life of a developing country, not something you see every day. Blindly we followed the small asphalt road. Squeaky houses on both sides, and uncontrolled cows everywhere! The large animals seemed to be the Nepali equivalent of mosquitos, if that even makes sense.

A stiff neck, definitely the direct consequence of the heavy backpack. About 13 kilos strapped around my worn out shoulder blades. It killed me! At the turning point, three children showed up. They were fascinated by our ‘’non Nepali’’ appearances. They giggled, and touched our bare legs as we gave them a pat on the head. It felt comforting to have some trusted company for a bit. In the meantime, it had already been half an hour since we’d left the local bus. Google didn’t work properly, and dusk came around the corner. I would be lying if I said that I didn't feel some arising anxiety. An unpleasant silence and distance prevented us from engaging in heated arguments. A bittersweet coating glued itself around our agonizing thighs.

Finally, a sign of our final destination! A large building established against the sharp hill, outdoor swimming pool stretching over the green grass up front. The peculiar location of the tourists night stay was a question for another day. Our feet whinged, and our bellies screamed. The joy we felt that the hotel wasn’t some sort of disgusting hole, it can’t be described in words. Suddenly, the all so serious mood was set free, and flew away. Time for food!

The lady who had invited us to this place stepped into the room. She seemed delighted. My friend had met her up in the air from Dubai to Kathmandu. The woman had a skinny appearance, and a slightly tanned skin. She’d been in Nepal for business. As we sat down in the restaurant for some well deserved dinner, she showed us the designs she’d made. Leather purses, frosted with tiny buttons. Cheap production had brought her to this humble country. All tension of today’s journey escaped our sight. It was a pleasant switch back to sweet ol’ calmness. Any experienced traveler would agree, backpacking is like bipolar disorder on steroids.

We shared a comfy room with the three of us. Me and my companion resided on the bigger twin. Exhausted from the long journey, conversations dried up soon. To the right of me the tall woman kept searching her backpack. With little effort she threw out almost all of her clothes. Spread all over the filthy wooden floor. On the old television, a Ducktales movie played. Donald was all mad on his rich uncle. The classic soundtrack of the animation propelled our attention.

''Tadaa!'' She said ecstatically.

Slowly she pulled up her right hand. Between her long narrow fingers, a plastic bag surfaced. Fascinated we followed her every move. She didn’t proclaim the content of the bag just yet. A tender build up to what seemed to be an enthralling unknown for the two of us. What could be in the bag? **We absolutely didn’t had a clue!
**

‘’It’s weed, you guys.’’ As she said the words, she stretched the opening of the bag.

A fierce smell of raw grass immediately spread throughout the air. Tiny sticks of harvest goods entered our eyesight. It was a lot!

She told us she went to a field up in the mountains earlier today. The notorious ‘’unknown celebrity’’ (next blog post) gave her a tour around the bound. All of them had taken a big bag of the unprocessed stuff, as it was free. The ‘’unknown celebrity’’ happened to be good friends with the old farmer. Who was this famous guy?

Without hesitation she prepared us a fine blunt. My friend and I, still paralyzed by the fast amount of narcotics, inspected the heavy plastic bag. It was all part of the Nepali experience, she said. Up in the mountains, the use of various medicines was as common as the rising of the sun. Everything to achieve a higher state of mind.

‘’Are you guys ready?’’ She rolled her eyes with a smile on her face.

From the desk behind the bed she stole a purple lighter to torch the piece of art. As we stared at the thick product, it beautifully lit up!

To be continued...

Without a doubt, the next day everything was different. Eternal calmness, no more.

My eyesight was covered with raw dust particles. Men shouted. My ears, vacuumed by the unconventional frequencies emitted by the vulgar traffic. Both my shoulders started to sting. The heavy payload rubbed against my sweaty back, stretching my fragile fur. As I walked alongside the road, my neck experienced some discomfort. Leather buckles or not, heavy backpack ain’t a pleasant thought. My companion, on the other side of the fruitful road, grasped for some fresh air, but didn’t find a proper float. Within seconds our internal bias of Kathmandu had changed. After we’d left the backpacker area (Thamel), the chaotic signs of an underdeveloped country appeared.

Now, minutes had passed without any advance. The morning sun touched our indefensible pale skin. It was really hot! Intensely our heads glanced from left to right, but nothing.

The bus station?

They meant the busy intersection.

Local busses didn’t even had the courtesy to stop. In the middle of the road they slowed down so that brave workers, humble mothers, and playful children could come along. An older lady stood and stared, couldn’t located, and seemed to literally drown. As we closed in on the humongous junction of ‘’death’’, we slowly lost trust in finding our ride. Chaos at its prime. We had to find a local bus that would bring us to a particular station, a station of which the name we could not pronounce. No schedule, no service desk, and no translators. Just us, and plentiful of soon to be extinct busses that gently disappeared with most of the crowd.

My friend, with his blonde lock and blue T-shirt, waved to circumvent the need for words. Traffic was loud. Unnecessary honking all around. But, he seemed to have figured it out! A car drove by with immense speed, dust particles scattered throughout the unprepared air stream. In a reflex my right hand moved to my left eye. Oh, it couldn’t just already stop with all that pain?!

In the close distance between the lucid smother, our bus finally appeared. Quickly we moved. Throughout the traffic, over the loose bricks, inside the metal can.

We were on our way to the outskirts of Kathmandu. Far from the tourist center, and into the elegant hills. Now, why did we deviate from the traditional track? As if you wouldn’t like to know. The bus bounced up and down the broken road. My friend and I sat up in front, next to a shy goat. Aggressively the chauffeur pushed the claxon, and slowed immediately down. A glance on the road ahead made us smile. Cow, white and brown, laid worriless his head down. We couldn’t pass. Traffic was hot. The chauffeur kept pushing the claxon, but the cow didn’t nod.

About an hour later, we magically arrived. Again no station, no signs, just a dusty pavement on the side. We were amazed. Now, the sun was slowly setting, we could finally jump off board. We didn’t exactly feel like it, but from here we had to walk. No Uber, no taxi, no nothing except our precious feet. As we looked up the proper directions on Google Maps, a big crowd gathered around our knees. Nobody said a thing. Just ten random guys, curiously checking in. We appeared to be rockstars. The triggered reactions made it perfectly clear, this part of town ain’t for tourists, oh dear.

To be continued..

What if someone tells you to pay for every WhatsApp message you send? What would your reaction be?

We might not remember all that good, but not that long ago this is exactly what we did. We paid for our words to be sent to other people.

You’ve got mail!

Delightly we paid about half a dollar for a postage stamp to send our summary of words to our beloved family and friends. In today's day and age we’re used to send a multitude of useless words to the other side of the world, before breakfast, and without any cost.

The main reason this revolution happened is because of the internet. The internet provided us with a new way to send messages, abolishing the need to buy an envelop, or pay the delivery boy.

One thing you might notice is that we’re still stuck in the ‘’mail’’ system when it comes to payments. We are still forced to send a long letter once a month (big amount of money), instead of one quick update every hour (micropayments).

This is because the current system is still far from being efficient enough to handle the fast moving world we live in today.

But good news: the future has arrived

Just like the internet revolutionized messages, blockchain is here to revolutionize payments. By using open-source and decentralized technologies, we’re now getting close to a reality in which we can send a fraction of a dollar without any (neglectable) cost, and instantaneously. **Isn’t that great?!
**

When I was a bit younger, my uncle and aunt from Guatemala used to give me money as a birthday present. While they congratulated me by sending a quick SMS, I used to get my birthday present (the money) from my grandparents. This, because there was NO way for them to send me that money themselves. If they did and used our antique payment system, half of the amount would’ve been eaten by fees, and multiple weeks would pass before the remaining euros would actually appear in my bank account.

As of today, we are starting to see the possibilities that these new technologies have to offer. By using The Interledger Protocol, and combining it with value tokens (digital assets and stablecoins), sending money around the globe isn’t that big of a problem anymore. Instead of expensive, slow, and unreliable payments, now we have the ability to send money the same way we send a WhatsApp message. And Interledger Protocol goes even further than that, imagine sending money from your Paypal account directly to your friends Bitcoin wallet. This isn’t even possible with todays messaging platforms! Sending an e-mail directly to your friends Instagram Direct? Sorry, but not possible, sir.

Interoperability is key in the emergence of the interconnected Value Network.

There is an incredibly wide variety of payment platforms and currencies out there, and it would be highly convenient if they could talk to one another. The high interoperability between those ‘’rails’’ will eventually abolish the, so called, ‘’walled gardens’’.

Walled gardens

The past few years we've become accustomed to the need of multiple subscriptions. Netflix, Amazon Prime, Spotify, Coil, and much more. Annoying isn’t it? All these platforms you have to register for, all with their own username and password. It’s confusing and highly inconvenient!

Now imagine a world in which all of these platforms can communicate to each other. Add the ability to exchange micropayments, and theoretically we're ready to pay as we consume.

It’s ignorant to assume that these new technologies will not be utilized properly. In the end, all that really matters is the consumers convenience.

Customer experience.

Walled gardens have definitely proven to be much more likeable than the ad based model. Although, history tells us that they won't last either.

The payment revolution is happening as we speak!

Content creators, regular famous people, models, bloggers, and vloggers...

How do they all make money?

Ofcourse, that’s right, they often post those annoying things in their IG stories..

Soul sucking advertisements that always seem to interrupt us when we appreciate it the least. If you have ever used Youtube, Instagram, Facebook, Snapchat, Google, or do not live under a rock, you probably know what I’m talking about. Without ever having scratched our heads about it, those annoying ads have become an integral part of our internet family. The black sheep, most definitely, but still a part of the family.

But we understand, we do. The platforms we use on a daily basis are free after all, of course they have to place some adds to make a profit. Unknowingly, even before we could ‘’like’’ one of Will Smith’s crazy IGTV videos, the online platforms had already transformed into the world's most powerful marketing machines.

**How powerful? You ask.**

Powerful enough to get us to buy something? **That’s right!
**

Powerful enough to influence national elections? That’s right!

And still, we don’t really seem to care..

**Why procrastinate about the business model of a company that provides services to us for FREE?
**

In the traditional sense of the word we are right, we never had to give them our credit card details.

For god's sake! Our hard earned cash isn’t donated to the charity of “Zuck"!Jeez!

Now that’s true, but we are dead wrong about it being for FREE. Instead of paying with our money, we pay with something much more valuable than the green paper. Something that we consciously would never sell for a nickel or a dime: our precious data.

So Niels, you ask. Why do I pay with my most valuable secrets, and in return I get more annoying ads than ever?

Me: the web is broken.

Reinventing the web

Coil is a subscription based platform that allows users to stream micropayments to creators in real time. By doing so, creators have another/better opportunity to monetize their content. A model that doesn't utilize personal data. Some of the benefits of Coil’s web monetization are:

1. Creators can start monetizing their content even when they have a small audience.

2. Creators don’t have to propagated annoying ads in order to make some money.

Coil describes its goal as:

We exists because content monetization doesn’t work for everyone, and we think it should. Our model offers an alternative to the status quo of paid advertisements and selling the public’s attention to the highest bidders – A solution that will serve the people who aren’t being served well today.

Will Coil succeed and reinvent the web? There definitely lies a tough journey ahead. The truth is that they can't do this by themselves..

They need your help!

Start today by joining the early adopters of Coil, and become a subscriber!

**Participate in the Web Monetization revolution!**

It’s been alright. Yeah, that’s right, I’m not that enthusiastic. Don’t get me wrong, starting out as a blogger is tough. The past week I’ve spend multiple hours writing. The words that appeared on my laptop seemed: perfect. As any inexperienced newbie, I expected people to notice my sublime writing from the start. This fairy tale concept of mine obviously didn’t hold ground for long.

The first day of writing was still ‘’good fun’’.

I was excited to translate my vivid thoughts into a readable medium. The words kept emerging without any effort on my part. For a minute it all seemed so easy. I most definitely can write one quality article a day, I thought. Poor ol’ fool me.

It didn’t take long for the tide to turn..

The second day of writing was anything but a delight. Doing great effort to create some worthy illuminating words didn’t pay off. Somehow they all resulted in weak sentences.

Forcing creativity is like asking a dog to speak.

Soon I became bored.

**Why spend my free time on this crap?

**

Without being too conscious about it, I decided to visit the Coil explore page. Scrolling down through the many newly established articles, I noticed something. It wasn’t just me that didn’t gain any traction. A few fairly well written episodes only showed for a handful of likes. The misery of the other brave bloggers brought me right back my lost confidence. No traction doesn’t necessarily mean that my blogs are ‘’shit’’. I mean, they probably still suck, but traction obviously isn’t the best metric to measure this truth.

So, how should I measure the quality of my articles then?

I decided to look at my profit. The monetization of my content would show if (any) people actually gave a f-ck. Coil subscribers would stream micro-payments as soon as they clicked on one of my posts. If I had made any profits at all, that would prove that people actually had read my posts.

Alright, it isn't much, but some people actually gave a f-ck!

This is one of the things that's so great about Coil:

You can start making money from genesis.

There is more to life than increasing its speed

*- Mahatma Gandhi*

Agra, India

An annoying tone entered my vivid dream. The alarm I’d set the evening before reverberated through the dark dorm room. Four narrow bunk beds covered the tiled floor. In a rush, I skillfully manoeuvred out of my top bunk.

**I couldn’t be more excited!**

It was exactly 5.01 in the morning and my mind was already running diligently. While I sneaked to the dorm’s bathroom, that was located next to the entrance, another alarm started to buzz. It was the oversized smartphone of the South Korean guy. Except for him and me, the room wasn’t occupied.

His black lock, and ‘’I love India’’ T-shirt made him loved among the hostel’s staff. I’d met him the previous evening at the rooftop restaurant. While we were enjoying a cold draft beer, he had made fun of me. Earlier that day, my train from Delhi got stuck in traffic. Because of the short distance between Delhi and Agra I dared to book a non-AC seat to save a couple of bux. It appeared that the overloaded carriages started to transform into the world’s most powerful sauna once the train stopped moving. He had taken the same train as I had, but while I was busy sweating from my ass, he went for a nap in his first class coupe.

Anyway,

I arrived at the hostel just in time to experience… What’s the word again?

Aha, that’s right!

**Beauty.**

At 5.30 in the morning we left. Me and my South Korean friend scrambled through the darkness. The poorly lit roads shed enough light to exhibit extreme poverty. A couple of kids, wearing dirty clothes, came to beg for some loose change. I was quite shocked to be honest. Exactly the circumstances you wouldn’t expect just a mile from one of the world’s seven wonders.

It definitely was a well orchestrated road that led us to the Taj. The grey bricks, fully packed with the enthralled tourists, all carrying their 1000 dollar cameras.

I remember I’d to diverge to the pavement to quickly tie my shoes. While I was at it, something broke my concentration. I couldn’t fathom what I saw until I got a second glance. A young mother and her newly born child were sleeping in a dark corner of the filthy street. Right next to them a little river filled with chemical liquids disappeared into the bushes. A look over my right shoulder revealed the many elderly, extravagantly dressed up for the most important picture of their India trip. One place, two worlds.

After surviving the long queue filled with curious birds, we were surprised that we could enter the ivory-white mausoleum for free. Normally about 20 dollar a person, now absolved because of the occurrence of some national holiday. After security searched our backpacks, we could finally enter the well maintained area. To the right of us we noticed a beautiful building that seemed to serve as:

**The gate to heaven.**

In the distance the stunningly designed marble piece entered our viewfinders. The eternal beauty of the round shapes affected the rhythm of my heartbeat. Often, these kinds of buildings become overhyped, but not for the Taj Mahal! The reflection of the sun on the humongous white bricks made me reconsider the definition of the word cleanliness.

The little town

Around 8 am we’d seen what we wanted to see, and decided to head back to the hostel. Among the way I noticed a small road that was primarily used by the local salesman. An alternative route. Recently I’d acquired my fabulous Sony camera, and I desperately wanted to snap some shots of local life. The small road led us to what appeared to be the heart of an alienated town.

Salesman of any kind. Children, dressed in blue school uniforms. It felt like we’d fallen out of a time machine. Horses were used to transport goods. Housewives visited the town’s well to top up their ‘’fresh’’ water supplies. I couldn’t help it but feel like:

*Skywalker in the Black Knight.*