Food in china - attempt number one to actually write something sort-of-guide-book-like

The food is amazing in China. Not only diverse and pretty much available at any corner - although I wouldn’t recommend having it literally at any corner. They probably have “too” much diversity in fact, particularly as it seems like they really do eat anything they can put their hands on (poor dogs...). Nevertheless, once you find a good place (where cutlery and dishes are very well-packed on the table - meaning that it really should be cleaned), it only really becomes a China experience if you are sharing. And ordering loads of different things. And trying - and mostly failing - to grab the strange “things” with your likely dodgy chopstick skills. Of course, if you get to see a place where cutlery isn’t packed, you’ll probably see the locals making sure it gets clean. How? Step one: pour tea into a cup. Step two: use the hot tea to try to clean it. Step three: convince yourself that you are actually cleaning the stuff (and that it really wasn’t obviously dirty before). Another bulk part of the entire experience is trying to find out which thing is which on the menu - and there you can either go with the nice pictures (and no english translation) - or just go ahead and trust your luck. You’ll probably get laughed at for some options (or for all of them), but, overall, the more the better - you can always not eat the dodger(ish) thing. Ok, not everything is great. Particularly the smell. If you get to experience, you’ll know exactly what I mean. And no, it’s just a “western” thing; it is true that you could argue that maybe it only smells really bad because we are not used to it - but maybe it is wonderful for chinese people. But it isn’t, really, they find it as disgusting as anyone else. They just get used to it.

The East Side

It’s been a while since I have managed to write something. As a previous post mentioned, the absence and lack of radio/virtual emission does not mean that life has been boring and with pretty much nothing to do or report. Not at all!

I am now on my way to China for a conference. It should be a great conference, with plenty of opportunities to interact and hear about the latest on the field. On the other hand, it is the first time that I head East. Stockholm, in Sweden, is pretty much my “eastern” record. So this “breakthrough” represents a huge improvement on my “eastern” trips: Beijing and Guilin, in China. Of course, it is much more about just going East; it’s about actually heading towards a culture which is actually different from what most of Europe.

Inevitable?

There is no such thing as destiny (?). No such thing as what we are meant to do. There is definitely not an activity or profession that fits us. The problem, of course, is the fact that we always tend to believe in the complete opposite. Regardless of the reason why, the reality is that we do tend to think that there is something that we will be quite good at. Something which will be fulfilling and that, because it is what we are "meant to do", will surely lead to quite a success. Why is it a problem then? Well, mostly because assuming that there is some sort of a "destiny" very frequently leads to searching for something that "feels right" - and such searches will almost always end up in a frustrating road. Of course, some people will tell you that this is completely wrong, assuring you that they really do what they were "meant to do" and they will base that on the feeling of fulfillment and success. But .

Clearly no time - or rather no real motivation

I guess this huge time-gap tells a lot about the potential adventures that have been happening meanwhile - although there is a huge degeneracy with the potential (and quite real, frankly) lack of time for actually writing something here!

One month in Hawaii

There's a funny thing about having too much to talk or write about: we end up writing nothing, and end up realizing that, actually, it's so much easier to write about nothingness than about a full life.

Nine Nights at the Top of the World

Mauna Kea is not just the highest point in the Pacific, found within the most isolated group of islands in the World. It's not just the best astronomical site on Earth, home of some of the best and larger telescopes in the World, allowing us to probe the distant, young Universe and at least hope we can understand a bit more of our origins. However, closer to the stars, above the clouds and most of the atmosphere, Mauna Kea is much above any of the "highest" or "biggest" journalistic description. And yet, within the context of the "economic crisis", instead of being seen like one of the most valuable, impressive and sacred sites in the world, Mauna Kea seems to be starting to be seen as a burden, something that governments and research agencies seem to be willing to get out from just to save a few piles of green paper.

Every day, more than a hundred of people drive all the way up from sea level to Mauna Kea with very different motivations. On the one hand, bus drivers take the excited tourists, eager to see the sunset above the clouds at more than 4 km height (eager enough to pay hundreds of dollars per person for a simple afternoon or morning visit). On the other hand, professional astronomers, telescope operators and students make their way up to provide the quality observational data that we need to understand how the Universe, their galaxies, stars and planets formed and evolved. The differences between the two "groups" are actually quite striking: it's not just the clothes, which clearly help to distinguish both, or the fact that most tourists either come on 4 wheel-drive buses or on (very unsafe) two-wheel drive cars (and dressing like they were ready to go surfing at sea level...). The greatest, most striking difference actually comes from the current "economic climate": while the tourist business is on an unprecedented high, and keeps growing - despite the inflated high prices per person - the astronomy "business" seems to be breathing a much more rarefied air and the most important word, here, seems to be "withdraw". Now the paradox is even clearer when one realizes that actually, at least a large part of the money that tourist companies are making comes directly from the telescopes. Mauna Kea is an impressive site, but the largest, most sophisticated telescopes in the World siting on the top of it make Mauna Kea more than a nice place to visit; it makes the mountain unique and worth paying the 200$/person. So why do these two worlds (of tourists and astronomers) keep living their lives as if they had nothing in common and how long will it take for they to realize that, whilst they depend on each other, only together will they be able to survive and get the best of both worlds?

The Blue Moon and the Full Earth

It was mid-August in the middle of the Pacific, in what is supposed to be the most isolated group of islands in the entire planet. Well, on Earth at least. The third (actually, 30th in total) and last night of the August observing run was coming to an end and the data obtained so far couldn't be better. So with the telescope observing the last target of the night, and with virtually no wind outside (and a scalding 3ºC outside), going for a walk felt like quite a natural thing to do. Of course, in a completely "dark night" (new moon), it's not that easy to know where you are going. Outside the telescopes it's always absolutely dark (well, unless when there are dumb crazy tourists around which clearly can't read...), except for the faint and distant lights coming from Hilo at sea level, which make up for quite a spectacle when the "down-sky" is clear - which was not quite the case for that night. Of course, using the amazing near-infrared view (a sort of army-style thing which makes everything look green) gives you an absolutely different view of the outside. Despite the relatively low temperatures around 0ºC, things are sufficiently warm to make them visible in the near-infrared; not quite the great multi-colour daylight view (as the one in the photo at sunset), but definitely better than walking in pitch black conditions. More than that: it really reveals the breathtaking spectacle of light in the sky, with hundreds of thousands of stars shinning all over the place and with constant shooting stars making the sky look even brighter at times. Soon enough, the proximity of the sunset starts to fill the horizon with light, and that's when your eyes are inevitability drawn to it, only to realize that, actually, there is something there already. Already above the horizon and covered in a faint blue colour, but just bright enough to recognize its "oceans". The moon had risen just minutes before the sunset, and whilst its illuminated side was hidden from the Earth (it was new moon after all), you could see it so clearly. That's when you realise why you can actually see it: whilst there is no sun-light illuminating the moon's visible side, the entire "dark" face is exposed to the entire Earth. It's "full Earth", the moon would say, and being in a place in the middle of an Ocean as large as the Pacific, there's enough light being reflected in the ocean's surface to actually illuminate the moon, making its entire surface visible if you are in a dark enough place. Such as Mauna Kea in Hawaii.

The usually amazing sunrise followed within minutes, as all telescopes closed their domes: once again, the day was simultaneously starting and finishing on Earth. But after seeing my first "blue moon", I couldn't help but thinking how remarkable it would be to see that blue light directly. I mean, the full moon is really great (well, not so great if your "job" depends on observing faint sources in the sky...), but the full Earth, that's on a completely different level.