late night thoughts

Observing logs are long overdue! No, I haven't been keeping logs to myself. I just haven't been observing for the past year or so.

Several nights ago, in that semi-conscious state between sobriety and slumber, I was reminiscing the times I spent with fellow astronomy enthusiasts in college. We were part of the university's astronomy society, which was responsible for the weekly public observation sessions. The society's mailing list had over 700 subscribers (probably more now) who received announcements of observing sessions and events. Being the low-profile activity that amateur astronomy has always been, the core of the society perennially consisted of less than 10 members --- at least when I was there --- never mind that the freshman class numbered in the thousands each year. Every year there will be the enthusiastic few who would stick around at the regular observing sessions frequently enough. They were the people whom I can call up to catch a pre-dawn comet appearance at 4am. They were the first ones I'd contact whenever something unusual was sighted in the sky. They share an appreciation for the faint fuzzes we see through the scope --- objects that often leave most visitors unimpressed and unsated. They were people who didn't mind staying out in the frosty northeastern winter nights for views of the heavens. It's a blessing to have them around for an otherwise solitary pursuit.

Now that college is over and done with, I'm back in a land where astronomy related gatherings were never common until recent years. Light pollution and scarcity of land area forced local astronomy enthusiasts to search abroad for dark sky retreats. To date, I've been on several such trips, and my experiences had been nothing short of positive, if not better than that back in the States. I caught my first glimpse of the Milky Way on one of those trips, and saw the southern skies in all its glory.

But it felt different, interacting with city amateur astronomers and my friends in college. Firstly, transport issues hinder me from meeting the local amateurs on any regular basis. Even when we do meet up, it's with a different bunch each time. Most of them are working adults or students who already own scopes and mounts, and are very informed on gadgetry and equipment trading. Conversations I hear at observing sessions and on the online forum tend to revolve around topics of "who owns what", "who's trading what", or "what's hot on the market". Naturally, by not owning a scope, I am excluded from these conversations.

Perhaps I've misrepresented the fledgling local astronomy community. Perhaps it just happened that discussions on this hobby tend to be equipment related because those involved tend to be the most vocal. I've even heard the word "upgrade" used to refer to purchasing better equipments, as if to connote a rise in social status (N.B. in local parlance, the word "upgrade" is often in reference to acquisition of more expensive properties or cars). It may be the manifestation of retail therapy --- the act of buying material goods to fill an emotional void. A local film --- Gone Shopping, directed by Wee Li Lin --- has been made on this subject, and we here are known for that. But maybe, we're just bad at expressing ourselves beyond the mundane. For someone new to the hobby, we risk giving the impression that it's all about scopes and equipment.

I still miss the very educating experiences from my days in my college's astronomy society. I enjoyed talking to visitors about the cosmos, and hearing about their astronomy experiences and their lives. I enjoyed standing witness to the visitor's moments of wonder when they gasp at the rings of Saturn, or a grandiose star cluster through the scope for the first time.

I miss these priceless back-to-the-basics moments. All you need is a clear night, and some company.