Astronomers are a fairly adaptable or masochistic lot. Regular switches between day and night are sought after, locations without much oxygen are prized, and network systems are designed around blocking communication with our own instruments. Observing runs are an oscillating balance between excitement and dejection, determination and delirium, and sleep and awakeness. In this world of contrasts, resilience is honed and prized. There are some times where the hardened star dust of astronomical grit wears thin, however, and this usually comes on the second night of the run. Our circadian rhythms have not yet been forced into submission yet, and the long day followed by a bewildered sleep tends to run its course by 3am. The adrenaline rush of the first milestones have passed, and we aren’t yet settled into the comfortable routine of known problems and sandwich forms.
We will pass through the fire of the transition, and are looking forward to more coherent days to come. In the meantime, I am running out of writing steam and will follow the guidelines that Eden suggested when arguing why I should write the blog tonight.
“I think that you would do such a better job. Topics Warren can put in a blog: “Him doing PIAA stuff”
“Him staring hard at PIAA stuff
“Him doing random walks and taking astrophotography”
“How he is leaving in two days and will miss Las Campanas“
“How Eden will be here for 14 more days and will have to write so many more blog posts than Eden“
“How much Warren cares about Eden and her mental health and how she has to stay up until sunrise”
As a group we made it through the night, and look forward to many more nights making progress and working together. See you all tomorrow.
Edit: Song of the Day
The carpool left promptly at 7am and, bleary from late night picture captions, I forgot everything about finishing blog posts with a song of the day. Tonight is filled with the nostalgia of being my last night at LCO. My fondest memories are filled with late night delirium and accomplished resolve. Laughter against the ever-present backdrop of the night keeps evoking the line:
The sunshine bores the daylights out of me Chasing shadows, moonlight mystery
The memorable association of this song is from walking down the mountain amid the sunrise, squinting against the growing light and looking forward to the dark nights to come.
Edit2: the lost blog post
Eden and Jay convinced me last night to finally post the blog entry that I had started for the AO summer school. It is retrodated here:
The long days spent waiting for a resolution to the trucking strike were unwanted but provided unusual tranquility on a mountain normally full of activity. Starting work yesterday morning brought welcome relief to have control back in our hands: turning wrenches and aligning optics was made sweeter by the ennui and uncertainty we had experienced waiting for our system to arrive.
It is to the credit to the group, then, that we did not trip over our own feet in excitement to have something to do, and instead an aura of calm pervaded almost all actions of the days. Like a well-rehearsed dance, our shifts in the cleanroom prepared each subsystem for integration onto the larger bench, and we were quick to characterize problems that will be addressed in days to come. The two days for preparation were unusually brief: because of time constraints we needed to run through our system characterization without incorporating the air-support mount or high-actuator count deformable mirror. Despite the outward expectation of hurriedness, we finished both days with remarks about how quickly everything had gone. Stepping outside this evening into golden sunset light with our instrument packaged and wrapped for the telescope was uniquely rewarding.
This calmness amid the bustle of activity would do well to linger into the next few days. Tomorrow will be the busiest day of the trip, loading our precious cargo onto a truck early in the morning for the final 200 meter climb to the telescope and then solving wavefront control problems through the starlit night. Today, then, was an important day to appreciate the quiet moments before the tempest that will challenge and enthrall us tomorrow.
Almost all the LCO animals joined together in making today a good day to remember. We had visits from the donkey herd:
The guanacos also made a rare, close to the lodge appearance before bedding down on the hillside south of the telescopes.
Furthermore, our resident viscacha spent time posing for admirers:
And certain, unnamed members of the group were hassled by menacing birds between homework assignments.
Inside the lab, Jared and Joseph started the day with heroic efforts to troubleshoot problems on the erstwhile moody ICC. It seems possible that problems may have originated during bumpy transport; we are all hoping that we’ll soon forget there was ever anything wrong at all.
Afterwards, Eden, Sebastiaan and I each got to play with our instruments but work was hampered in part by bad PSFs caused by some combination of pupil shift and no tweeter mirror. We were glad for an online celebrity guest troubleshooting appearance from our very own Kyle van Gorkom; hopefully getting the instrument onto its air support in the telescope will restore beam paths to closer to what we had seen in Tucson.
As quickly as it had started, it was time to pack everything up and get ready for the final ascent tomorrow. Avalon’s instincts as master plastic wrapper sprang into seasoned form, and good teamwork led to a record decabling and preparation.
Finally, our work finished, we enjoyed a very pleasant team bonding experience lingering outside as the evening glow turned into night. Amid the certain hubbub and work of the coming days, it was lovely to pause and appreciate the quiet stars twinkling in the night, before peering deeper to unravel their mysteries.
With relief and anticipation we look forward to the busy days to come, but also look back with fondness on our unexpected, quiet days on top of the world. Time spent walking the gravel mountain roads holding dual feelings of awe and angst consistently evoked the music of Townes van Zandt, and I’d be remiss to not include a song of those moments before our nostalgia is swept away by the activity quickly upon us.
Ninety minutes west of Santiago lies the fantastical, ebullient town on Valparaíso. Known as “Valpo” to the locals, it offers endless labyrinths of hidden staircases, harbor views and consistently interesting street art. Though well ensconced in long-haul South American itineraries, it is not well-known to most traveling astronomers despite its easy access from the Santiago Airport. Because of its smaller (~400,000) size, it is a more manageable and comprehensible city than the capital, and better suited for a short trip. While we wait at the mountain for our crates to arrive, may I offer some diversion in a guide to spending a few days on the coast.
Landing in Santiago, do your best to not notice the “2:15am” on your phone before it updates to the local time. Valparaíso is easily reached by transferring at the bus station “Pajaritos”, which is a hub on the western outskirts of Santiago. Buses run there from the airport every ten minutes, and from there towards Valpo every fifteen.
After passing through customs, the bus station is seen on the prominent map outside the terminal. What is less obvious is that you need to get there from the upper level, passing over the parking garage to a bridge connecting the station. The helpful “Turbus” company staff sell a ticket to Pajaritos for CLP1600 – about $1.75 cents. Many buses continue from Pajaritos towards Alameda – another hub station closer towards the city centro – but more than half the passengers leave at the first stop.
The greatest ambiguity comes from getting off the bus outside of the Pajaritos station. The local buses pull up to the curb outside the station, near a few booths hawking sodas and souvenirs. Walk inside the station and another Turbus booth on the immediate left sells a ticket to Valparaíso for CLP 5500 or six dollars. This is a good time to get a coffee and stop thinking about the last 18 hours of travelling.
The bus ride to Valparaíso is beautiful and passes through several Chilean wine valleys. It descends from these foothills into a coastal floodplain, where the first sight of the city comes from colorful houses dotting the hillside. The bus stops outside the National Congress building, where the bright sunshine and loud noises from produce and sweatshirt vendors can be disorienting. Depending on the distance to your hostel, there are choices to walk, take a bus or a taxi (or Uber). My plans to walk and get an initial impression of the city were quickly replaced by deeper needs for a nap and change of socks. A bit flustered about bus schedules, I recomposed with a much-needed beer which helped break a bill into coins to pay the local bus (CLP350, $0.38) with coins.
Valparaíso is fairly popular among the European backpacker crowd, and there are a good selection of cheap hotels and hostels accommodating budget travelers. Because of tourism mixed with a generally global perspective, a surprisingly large number of locals speak English. Accommodations are mainly centered around the hilly Concepcion neighborhood, which was the epicenter of planned street art in the 1990s. From this spot you can quickly head up any number of colorful staircases hiding interesting art and local boutiques.
I stayed at the “Hostal Po”, which was a conventional and clean hostel that featured a common space on the top floor for cooking and meeting other travelers. My private double room was CLP35000 ($38) a night; I was told that the CLP13000 ($14) dorm rooms were quite nice. The hostel was decorated by a large suite of local artists, and every room had some unique mural. At first glance, though, there was no sight more beautiful than the open window next to a made bed. Long summer hours meant that even after a luxurious nap, plenty of daylight remained for ample exploration.
Although there are several good sightseeing activities in Valparaíso, the main draw is the city itself. The best thing to do is to put away the map, step onto the street and walk down whichever street seems most interesting. Staircases are built into the hillsides where cars or horses could not travel. Originally a boomtown from shipping routes heading towards the new world, city planning was frenetic and energetic, and bright colonial houses are stacked on top of each other on the steep hills above the bay. After a lull of economic activity following the construction of the Panama Canal, the city has been largely revitalized through tourism and a vibrant art community.
An emblematic sight in the community is the “Ex Cárcel de Valparaíso” – an abandoned prison that has been transformed into a community park and arts space. Following the prison closure in the late 1990s, community activists began renovations and fought development by real estate developers. The concrete walls that used to echo with screams from torture during the Pinochet dictatorship now ring with children laughing under gardenias and bougainvillea; the cells transformed into ballet studios and hung with silks for aerial dancing.
One other classic sight is the “Casa Museo del Neruda”, where the poet lived from the 1950s-70s. Well maintained, the five-story tower is unique and tells eccentric stories amid beautiful views of the hills and harbor. Really, though, any places listed in the guidebook serve mainly as a motivation to see new hillsides, mosaiced staircases and idiosyncratic murals.
Safety + nightlife
My short experiences in Chile have given the impression that the country is significantly safer than other places in South America. However, the gritty port characteristics of Valparaíso means that a decent amount of caution is warranted. The streets felt uniformly safe during the day, and were mainky filled with parents walking with their children to school, old couples stopping to chat with friends, friendly stray dogs, construction workers, etc. I was told that the area close to the port is sketchier, but safe if you don’t wave around cash or expensive cameras. The neighborhoods grew poorer as you continue climbing endless hills, with houses eventually melding into slums. These areas never felt dangerous, but did become much more abandoned and made me paranoid. A rule of thumb developed after a few U-turns is that if your street turns to dirt then you should consider turning around.
Several locals warned me about going out alone at night because of the risk of muggings and pickpockets. Although main streets are well-lit, they did seem quite risky at night. I walked back to the hostel one night in a group of three, without any troubles, but also with no motivations to linger.
Paradoxically, Valparaíso is known as a great nightlife city, especially on the weekends. Most people don’t go out until 1am. The scene on Tuesday night was quieter but still lively, and I went with a Chilean / Colombian / Belgian group from the hostel to a great live music show with two singers alternating between jazzy vocals and rap. The local hipster crowd formed groups outside on the street between sets, chatting while sipping pisco sours and making staggered visits to the corner store for cheap beers that could be smuggled back under jackets and purses.
I found the people in Valpo almost uniformly friendly, open and eager to help. The experience was a fantastic introduction to Chile and I highly recommend leaping on any possibility to visit. Total trip costs were approximately: $16: transportation $38/night: lodging $2 for coffee $8-10 for larger meals $3-4 for museum tickets
The amount of nooks and colorful crannies was astounding, and with many more photos than could be squeezed into a blog post, I’ve made a Drive folder if anyone would care to see them.
The video for today’s post is by the two singers/rappers that I got to see on Tuesday night. The music is interesting, and they do a good job of capturing the scenes and vibes around the city.
I am generally horrible at finishing things, and there were so many stories to tell about good times in Santa Cruz that I never finished my blog post. I started writing during the first night of the workshop, but didn’t return to tell the stories of renting a bike and spending afternoons enjoying rides in the countryside.A late night guilt trip during the 2023A run from *nameless parties* has made me choose to post what I’d written in August.
While sipping coffee in the shade of towering redwoods this afternoon, Eden ran up behind me and hurriedly asked if “I’d seen Jared’s message on Slack”. When I said I hadn’t, she said “good – Jay and I think that you should be the first one to write a blog post about the workshop. This news set off alarm bells and self-doubt that we’d taken enough photos to justify the lofty precedents of previous posts. The subsequent rush to backlog material might lead to an uneven post, but hopefully presents an accurate picture of California life.
Flying into San Jose airport at nighttime feels like a glimpse into the future: either utopian or dystopian depending on personal preference. Terminal walls are adorned at fifty feet intervals with large screens proclaiming the latest software accomplishment from interminable corporations. These advertisements can be generally ignored by bleary, midnight eyes until passengers are funneled out through automated security doors and greeted by an LED mural twenty feet tall, bright red and devoted to Intel alone. Sleepy wrinkles in passengers faces are filled with the bright light as they shuffle into escalators going to a similarly lit baggage claim. It feels like some combination of Blade Runner and Fahrenheit 451.
My personal history with California has been checkered at best: past work trips to San Diego have imparted a unique claustrophobia of being surrounded by endless suburbs and six lane highways; of traveling for hours and never leaving the city. With that background, I gave the most profound sigh of relief in my Uber when I was greeted in Santa Cruz not by strip malls but instead by a deer, silently walking through the moonlit streets [not pictured – sorry!]. I have since learned that it was part of a healthy resident population on the university campus.
The campus is a beautiful setting for a conference, and the cool breezes from the ocean are a welcome break from Tucson heat. The lectures are widely succeeding at proving a strong background to the wide-ranging field of adaptive optics. I can appreciate the challenge in planning a curriculum for 29 students with wildly different backgrounds and experiences. The first day was a broad introduction to adaptive optics in general – I think that most of the class pitied the grad student who was asked to deliver a briefer on geometrical optics and third order aberrations in one hour. Several talks stuck out on the first day though, especially Phil Hinz’s overview of wave optics and Rebecca Jensen-Clem’s lecture on atmospheric turbulence. Being used to picking up the concepts on the fly, it was very helpful to reestablish the source of useful rules of thumb like r0 and t0 scaling with wavelength. The workshop is unique in bringing people from such a niche field into a room together.
I went to bed after this, and thus ends the written memory of the AO Summer School. Santa Cruz has wonderful bicycle infrastructure, and immediately upon arriving I began making inquiries about how to rent a bike. After being disappointed by several foundering startups attempting to revolutionize the bike-rental industry, I finally found a wonderful beach cruiser that I named “Black Beauty”. The shop owner – who sounded exactly like what you would imagine someone who runs a bike shop two blocks away from the beach would sound like – told me “don’t ride off road, or at least if you do then clean it afterwards because we don’t have a hose here”. I took this liberally, and had a blast over the next few days exploring the steep hills of Santa Cruz after the workshop finished in the afternoons. Here are some fun photos from these rides.
Song of the conference
There are so many songs about California but time spent walking around the Giant Sequoias of the campus kept reminding me of this lesser-known one.