cloud / systems
In 1998, I made a small personal homepage at the Meteorological Institute of the University of Bonn. Plenty of students did. I had a page, some enthusiasm and one minor problem: I had very little to put on it.
A homepage in search of a subject
Fortunately, I had just bought a book about dwarf hamsters and their care. So I shared what I had learned on my homepage. Meteorology was my field of study. Hamsters supplied the content.
There was no grand publishing plan behind it. The logic was considerably simpler: I had a website, and I had something to write about. That seemed like a good enough reason to start.
The search engines promoted me
The web was still in its childhood. My little hamster page appeared so high in search results that people began emailing me as a hamster expert.
My qualification for this unexpected role? I had read a book and made a homepage. The internet had apparently considered the application and decided that would do.
I had set out to fill a webpage. Somehow, I had acquired a professional-looking reputation in a subject that fitted inside a small cage.
Then the institute noticed
Years later, the page was taken offline. I was informed about it, and learned that it had been, by far, the most-visited page at the institute.
At a meteorological institute, my personal contribution to web popularity had apparently been dwarf hamsters. Not quite the academic specialism I had planned.
My first web success had cheek pouches
What still makes me smile is how little of this was planned. I needed content, shared something that interested me, and found an audience I had never imagined.
Looking back, I also learned a useful distinction: being easy to find and being an expert are not necessarily the same thing.
I still enjoy making things for the web. Today, that includes cloud stories, small browser games and a training app. Back then, a hamster-care book was enough to get me started.
My first web success had cheek pouches. The meteorology would have to share the spotlight.