Lazy git as I am, pics from my New Mexico observing run in July are finally up.
http://princeton.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2045309&l=5c606&id=1112324
Friday, August 17, 2007
Thursday, July 12, 2007
It seemed counter-intuitive that my main experience of New Mexico is of rain, but that's what I've had plenty of. It turns out that July is considered the 'monsoon' season around here, and especially around the mountains I've seen nary a peek of sunshine through the everpresent clouds.
My arrival at Apache Point was not without incident. I flew into El Paso airport on the Texas-NM border, and rented a car. From a certain point of view, it can be argued that I am not qualified to drive (I have never driven on the right-hand side before, and I have not driven at all for close to a year). There is a 100-mile drive to Apache Point from El Paso, some 20 miles which involve mountain roads, so it was a fun experience to hit the road.
Most of the trip from El Paso to Alamogordo, the nearest big town to APO, involved long stretches of desert road, under clear blue sky. By the time I had ascended to the Sacramento Mountains where the APO is, the sky was shrouded in clouds. However, by the time my allocated time arrived, the sky had cleared enough to see the Milky Way. This being my first solo observing run, and also since I had never used the APO 3.5 metre telescope before, it took me nearly two hours of fumbling about with calibrations before I could start taking science data. Lo and behold, with less than 20 minutes of data taken, clouds started rolling in .
The next couple of nights were little different. At some parts of the the 2nd night, the cloud cover was thin enough that I could take data n a couple of the brightest objects on my target list, but otherwise I spent the entire night wandering through the World Wide Web.
During the day, I spent a few hours hiking through the nearby hills and forests, although the otherwise stunning views were spoiled by...clouds. Yesterday, I had tramped some 4 miles away from the observatory when the heavens opened up with a thunderstorm, and within minutes I was soaked to the bone.
With my 3 days done and laughably little data to show for it, the only positive I can take out from this is that I am now qualified to operate the 3.5m remotely (the entire purpose of the trip was to train me to use the telescope). So the next time I wrestle with the New Mexico weather, it will be from the Peyton Hall basement in Princeton.
My arrival at Apache Point was not without incident. I flew into El Paso airport on the Texas-NM border, and rented a car. From a certain point of view, it can be argued that I am not qualified to drive (I have never driven on the right-hand side before, and I have not driven at all for close to a year). There is a 100-mile drive to Apache Point from El Paso, some 20 miles which involve mountain roads, so it was a fun experience to hit the road.
Most of the trip from El Paso to Alamogordo, the nearest big town to APO, involved long stretches of desert road, under clear blue sky. By the time I had ascended to the Sacramento Mountains where the APO is, the sky was shrouded in clouds. However, by the time my allocated time arrived, the sky had cleared enough to see the Milky Way. This being my first solo observing run, and also since I had never used the APO 3.5 metre telescope before, it took me nearly two hours of fumbling about with calibrations before I could start taking science data. Lo and behold, with less than 20 minutes of data taken, clouds started rolling in .
The next couple of nights were little different. At some parts of the the 2nd night, the cloud cover was thin enough that I could take data n a couple of the brightest objects on my target list, but otherwise I spent the entire night wandering through the World Wide Web.
During the day, I spent a few hours hiking through the nearby hills and forests, although the otherwise stunning views were spoiled by...clouds. Yesterday, I had tramped some 4 miles away from the observatory when the heavens opened up with a thunderstorm, and within minutes I was soaked to the bone.
With my 3 days done and laughably little data to show for it, the only positive I can take out from this is that I am now qualified to operate the 3.5m remotely (the entire purpose of the trip was to train me to use the telescope). So the next time I wrestle with the New Mexico weather, it will be from the Peyton Hall basement in Princeton.
Wednesday, July 04, 2007
After my observing run at Apache Point next week, I hope to take a couple of days off to see some of the sights of southern New Mexico. One of the 'attractions' of the region is Roswell, where an UFO was allegedly captured in 1947, 60 years ago to this coming Sunday, 8th July, while on the 14th a local farmer discovered 'UFO debris' in his ranch.
There is of course a UFO museum in Roswell, and although I won't be able to visit it on the exact anniversary this Sunday, I hope there will be enough UFO nuts swarming the place when I do visit.
I have almost resigned to the fact that I will be purchasing unnecessary amounts of UFO-related trinkets.
There is of course a UFO museum in Roswell, and although I won't be able to visit it on the exact anniversary this Sunday, I hope there will be enough UFO nuts swarming the place when I do visit.
I have almost resigned to the fact that I will be purchasing unnecessary amounts of UFO-related trinkets.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
I have an observing run for about 3 nights at the 3.5m at the Apache Point Observatory, New Mexico, in about 2 weeks time. In September, I have another 4 nights in Las Campanas in Chile. This is a rather inordinate amount of observing stellar spectra for someone who purports to be working on cosmology theory, but it's a chance to travel.
I am looking forward to visit the White Sands Missile Range in New Mexico, the parts open to the public at any rate (and the White Sands National Park itself has lots of beautiful white sand in it, I'm told). Also Roswell/Area 51 is about 50 miles away from APO, but it's intriguing enough to warrant a drive there I suspect. I'm told that there will be many interesting characters I'll meet out there.
And the bicentennial of Chilean independence is 2 days after my allocated time in the Chile run, so it will be a fun experience to hang around to check it out.
To think that I'm ostensibly working all summer....
I am looking forward to visit the White Sands Missile Range in New Mexico, the parts open to the public at any rate (and the White Sands National Park itself has lots of beautiful white sand in it, I'm told). Also Roswell/Area 51 is about 50 miles away from APO, but it's intriguing enough to warrant a drive there I suspect. I'm told that there will be many interesting characters I'll meet out there.
And the bicentennial of Chilean independence is 2 days after my allocated time in the Chile run, so it will be a fun experience to hang around to check it out.
To think that I'm ostensibly working all summer....
Sunday, June 24, 2007
I don't quite remember writing up a paper to be such hard work. I am now writing up what was officially my first semester project which had overflowed beyond the first semester and had been put on hold for several months. I had written up papers before, most for most of those I essentially just wrote up the method and a brief summary of the results, leaving the detailed interpretation for my supervisor(s). So I guess it is progress that I understand more about the results than my advisors do. Nevertheless, that is not a very reassuring thought when I'm cracking my head trying to interpret the data.
I think I know understand why Princeton requires us to submit at least one paper before general exams. The process of writing and trying to present the work in a coherent manner is a very effective method of revealing deficiencies in my own understanding. While actually doing the project, my understanding is a vague and jumbled blob. Actually writing it and having to justify to the referee and scientific community is a great way of beating my own comprehension into shape.
I'm still halfway through the first draft, and the week has probably been the most concentrated amount of work I've ever done, averaging 14-15 hours in the office a day. But the thought of getting the paper submitted and fulfilling 1/3 of my generals requirements (the other two is that I pass my courses and oral exam) is a driving motivation. The feeling of actually getting concrete things done is also a very welcome change from the feeling of helplessness and ignorance in my first months here, when I really did fear I will get kicked out (as it transpires, a very common sentiment among graduate students in Princeton).
Nevertheless, it's slightly annoying to realise that after the first draft, there will still be the process of revising and editing the paper (probably extensively) to make it more coherent and take into account my advisors' comments, adding in references etc before submission at some point.
In the meantime, J. who is 2nd semester advisor taps his fingers at my laughable progress in his project...
I think I know understand why Princeton requires us to submit at least one paper before general exams. The process of writing and trying to present the work in a coherent manner is a very effective method of revealing deficiencies in my own understanding. While actually doing the project, my understanding is a vague and jumbled blob. Actually writing it and having to justify to the referee and scientific community is a great way of beating my own comprehension into shape.
I'm still halfway through the first draft, and the week has probably been the most concentrated amount of work I've ever done, averaging 14-15 hours in the office a day. But the thought of getting the paper submitted and fulfilling 1/3 of my generals requirements (the other two is that I pass my courses and oral exam) is a driving motivation. The feeling of actually getting concrete things done is also a very welcome change from the feeling of helplessness and ignorance in my first months here, when I really did fear I will get kicked out (as it transpires, a very common sentiment among graduate students in Princeton).
Nevertheless, it's slightly annoying to realise that after the first draft, there will still be the process of revising and editing the paper (probably extensively) to make it more coherent and take into account my advisors' comments, adding in references etc before submission at some point.
In the meantime, J. who is 2nd semester advisor taps his fingers at my laughable progress in his project...
Thursday, June 14, 2007
I just struggled out of bed at 11am to give a talk at lunch, and afterwards I noticed this article in the BBC:
Late risers unite in Denmark
By Chris Morris
BBC News, Denmark
If you find it hard to get up in the morning, don't despair - you're not
lazy, you're just genetically programmed that way, says the B-Society in
Denmark.
I have still got a rather nasty bruise on my shin at the moment after the
flawed execution of my latest elaborate plan - to make sure I did not miss
the dreaded early morning flight. I was sleeping rather fitfully in the
spare room downstairs, trying to avoid waking up the rest of the house,
when the time ticked around to 4.30.
First the phone alarm on the bedside table chirruped. I soon dealt with
that. But then one minute later the alarm clock cunningly hidden on the
other side of the room burst into life. The trick is to place an obstacle -
in this case my son's rickety wooden rocking horse - in your path, making
immediate access difficult.
The idea, obviously, is that by the time you find the blasted clock you are
awake. The trouble was, in this case, in my bleary-eyed trance, I forgot
about the horse altogether and crashed into it at some speed. Searing pain,
followed by muffled obscenities, left me lying in a heap on the floor, the
alarm clock still beeping impatiently. I made the flight, the sunrise looked
lovely, but boy do I hate mornings.
But it is OK. Now I know it is not my fault. I am a B-person. A B-person -
as opposed to an A-person - genetically pre-disposed to operate better and
to be more alert later in the day.
Denmark it seems is full of B-people. So where better to form the B-society?
Six months after it was set up, it already boasts several thousand members.
Now it is campaigning hard for businesses to sign up to its B-certification
list. "We're calling," the society proclaims in its manifesto, "for an
uprising against the tyranny of early rising."
Mmm, sounds good.
But how does it work in practice?
Rush-hour in Copenhagen seems relatively sedate to me - it is certainly not
central London on a wet Monday morning. But the glazed looks on the faces of
grumpy commuters are disturbingly familiar.
So, time to find some B-pioneers. One strong cup of coffee later and I was
on my way to meet Stephen Alstrup who runs his own B-certified company.
Empty tube trains are one of the joys for Denmark's B-people
By the time he gets to his train station the platform is empty and so are
most of the seats on his commuter train. "I'm useless early in the morning,"
he says cheerfully. "All I can do is drink coffee, and stare into space."
"People used to get up early because they had to feed the animals. But I
haven't got any cows or chickens, so I can sleep late."
And when we get to Stephen's office, that is empty too - apart from one
member of staff who has been there most of the night and is just leaving,
and the company's only A-person who actually enjoys the early start. The
rest of them arrive when they choose - any time up to 3.30pm or so - each to
their own rhythm. It is a small hi-tech company and Stephen needs brains
which are working at full speed.
It used to be called disorganised but not any more. "Everybody gains," he
says, "they're here when they're fully awake, and the business benefits."
More confusing for me is the guy who works to a 25 hour clock. If he is in
at 10 today, it will be 11 tomorrow, then 12 - you can get the general idea.
I do not know where his cycle had got to when we called at the office but
there was certainly no sign of him by midday.
It used to be called disorganised, but not any more, not in Denmark. His
body clock is just different. And it is not just businesses which are
getting in on the act. Are you a teenager who cannot get out of bed in the
morning? Or a parent who never quite gets the kids to school on time?
Fear not - the Danes may have the solution: B-classes.
>From next year a school in Copenhagen will offer classes which start later
in the day - at 10 instead of eight. It is likely to prove popular.
Even the government seems to like the idea.
Work-life balance is a big political issue in Denmark, Families Minister
Carina Christensen tells me. And B-philosophy fits right in with the need
for a flexible labour force. When I confess that I think I am a B-person,
she gives me a comforting smile. "Don't worry," she says, "some people might
think you're lazy - but there's more to it than that."
Well, I hope so. The B-society and its founder Camilla Kring are certainly
convinced that they are on to a winner. "It's a 24/7 society," she says, as
we sit in a park and watch some swans... swanning around. "Our institutions
have got to move with the times." Quite so. Which means the choice should be
yours.
As one famous Dane once said: "To B or not to B?" In modern life, that
really is the question.
Late risers unite in Denmark
By Chris Morris
BBC News, Denmark
If you find it hard to get up in the morning, don't despair - you're not
lazy, you're just genetically programmed that way, says the B-Society in
Denmark.
I have still got a rather nasty bruise on my shin at the moment after the
flawed execution of my latest elaborate plan - to make sure I did not miss
the dreaded early morning flight. I was sleeping rather fitfully in the
spare room downstairs, trying to avoid waking up the rest of the house,
when the time ticked around to 4.30.
First the phone alarm on the bedside table chirruped. I soon dealt with
that. But then one minute later the alarm clock cunningly hidden on the
other side of the room burst into life. The trick is to place an obstacle -
in this case my son's rickety wooden rocking horse - in your path, making
immediate access difficult.
The idea, obviously, is that by the time you find the blasted clock you are
awake. The trouble was, in this case, in my bleary-eyed trance, I forgot
about the horse altogether and crashed into it at some speed. Searing pain,
followed by muffled obscenities, left me lying in a heap on the floor, the
alarm clock still beeping impatiently. I made the flight, the sunrise looked
lovely, but boy do I hate mornings.
But it is OK. Now I know it is not my fault. I am a B-person. A B-person -
as opposed to an A-person - genetically pre-disposed to operate better and
to be more alert later in the day.
Denmark it seems is full of B-people. So where better to form the B-society?
Six months after it was set up, it already boasts several thousand members.
Now it is campaigning hard for businesses to sign up to its B-certification
list. "We're calling," the society proclaims in its manifesto, "for an
uprising against the tyranny of early rising."
Mmm, sounds good.
But how does it work in practice?
Rush-hour in Copenhagen seems relatively sedate to me - it is certainly not
central London on a wet Monday morning. But the glazed looks on the faces of
grumpy commuters are disturbingly familiar.
So, time to find some B-pioneers. One strong cup of coffee later and I was
on my way to meet Stephen Alstrup who runs his own B-certified company.
Empty tube trains are one of the joys for Denmark's B-people
By the time he gets to his train station the platform is empty and so are
most of the seats on his commuter train. "I'm useless early in the morning,"
he says cheerfully. "All I can do is drink coffee, and stare into space."
"People used to get up early because they had to feed the animals. But I
haven't got any cows or chickens, so I can sleep late."
And when we get to Stephen's office, that is empty too - apart from one
member of staff who has been there most of the night and is just leaving,
and the company's only A-person who actually enjoys the early start. The
rest of them arrive when they choose - any time up to 3.30pm or so - each to
their own rhythm. It is a small hi-tech company and Stephen needs brains
which are working at full speed.
It used to be called disorganised but not any more. "Everybody gains," he
says, "they're here when they're fully awake, and the business benefits."
More confusing for me is the guy who works to a 25 hour clock. If he is in
at 10 today, it will be 11 tomorrow, then 12 - you can get the general idea.
I do not know where his cycle had got to when we called at the office but
there was certainly no sign of him by midday.
It used to be called disorganised, but not any more, not in Denmark. His
body clock is just different. And it is not just businesses which are
getting in on the act. Are you a teenager who cannot get out of bed in the
morning? Or a parent who never quite gets the kids to school on time?
Fear not - the Danes may have the solution: B-classes.
>From next year a school in Copenhagen will offer classes which start later
in the day - at 10 instead of eight. It is likely to prove popular.
Even the government seems to like the idea.
Work-life balance is a big political issue in Denmark, Families Minister
Carina Christensen tells me. And B-philosophy fits right in with the need
for a flexible labour force. When I confess that I think I am a B-person,
she gives me a comforting smile. "Don't worry," she says, "some people might
think you're lazy - but there's more to it than that."
Well, I hope so. The B-society and its founder Camilla Kring are certainly
convinced that they are on to a winner. "It's a 24/7 society," she says, as
we sit in a park and watch some swans... swanning around. "Our institutions
have got to move with the times." Quite so. Which means the choice should be
yours.
As one famous Dane once said: "To B or not to B?" In modern life, that
really is the question.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
One of the most beautiful articles I've read on music. It's a very long article, but well worth the read.
I'm amazed that Joshua Bell can play the Bach Chaconne on a Strad and hardly have anyone notice.
Joshua Bell plays in the Washington DC Metro.
Before starting university, I worked for a month as a musician in a hotel cafe, and I used to be hurt when people wouldn't even notice that I was there. I was playing sappy popular music arrangements, so it was mostly background muzak to many people.
In the summer before coming over to the US, I had planned to spend the summer working as a busker in the London Underground. However, that required registration and an audition before being a licensed busker, so I sent in my application in May...and they only asked me to come for an audition in October, well after I had arrived in Princeton.
I'm amazed that Joshua Bell can play the Bach Chaconne on a Strad and hardly have anyone notice.
Joshua Bell plays in the Washington DC Metro.
Before starting university, I worked for a month as a musician in a hotel cafe, and I used to be hurt when people wouldn't even notice that I was there. I was playing sappy popular music arrangements, so it was mostly background muzak to many people.
In the summer before coming over to the US, I had planned to spend the summer working as a busker in the London Underground. However, that required registration and an audition before being a licensed busker, so I sent in my application in May...and they only asked me to come for an audition in October, well after I had arrived in Princeton.
Saturday, March 17, 2007
I was goofing off in my room yesterday afternoon, having just gotten up at 3pm after a good night's observing. Suddenly, the room began to rumble and shake. I looked out the window to see if there was some large truck driving by, and then I realised that I was at the top of a mountain with just narrow roads. There are no trucks up here.
This was an earthquake.
However, from the fact that I was still on my feet and things weren't falling off my table yet, it couldn't have been any more than 3 or 4 on the Richter scale, so I didn't bother leaving the room.
Still, it was my first direct experience with seismic activity. (My indirect experience came from the fact that a beach-side house I once lived in was hit by the 2005 tsunami).
This was an earthquake.
However, from the fact that I was still on my feet and things weren't falling off my table yet, it couldn't have been any more than 3 or 4 on the Richter scale, so I didn't bother leaving the room.
Still, it was my first direct experience with seismic activity. (My indirect experience came from the fact that a beach-side house I once lived in was hit by the 2005 tsunami).
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Magnificent desolation.
Standing on the edge of a cliff high in the Atacama desert, with the sun beating down on me from the cloudless blue sky, I can almost feel my skin burning under the merciless rays. A cool wind howls past, offering some respite from the relentless heat. I had never realised there were so many different hues of brown and red, the palette colouring the mountains stretching out across the horizon. Mighty as they are, these mountains are no more than the southern foothills of the mighty peaks of the Andes far to the north.
Apart from a few telescope domes and small dormitories, the landscape of Las Campanas is an alien one, implacably hostie to human life with its heat and scarcity of water. Humanity's presence here is no more than a small community of people dedicated to servicing the observatory to support visiting astronomers, but even they work only in one-week shifts.
At night, I am reminded even more of the fragility of life, as the immensity of the cosmos is spread out at night. In the clear night sky, unspoiled by water vapour and the lights of civilisation, one can see the Milky Way stretching from horizon to horizon, and thousands of stars across the entire firmament. It tingles my spine to comprehend the vastness of the universe, and also a sense of gratitude that I have the opportunity to do astronomy.
Standing on the edge of a cliff high in the Atacama desert, with the sun beating down on me from the cloudless blue sky, I can almost feel my skin burning under the merciless rays. A cool wind howls past, offering some respite from the relentless heat. I had never realised there were so many different hues of brown and red, the palette colouring the mountains stretching out across the horizon. Mighty as they are, these mountains are no more than the southern foothills of the mighty peaks of the Andes far to the north.
Apart from a few telescope domes and small dormitories, the landscape of Las Campanas is an alien one, implacably hostie to human life with its heat and scarcity of water. Humanity's presence here is no more than a small community of people dedicated to servicing the observatory to support visiting astronomers, but even they work only in one-week shifts.
At night, I am reminded even more of the fragility of life, as the immensity of the cosmos is spread out at night. In the clear night sky, unspoiled by water vapour and the lights of civilisation, one can see the Milky Way stretching from horizon to horizon, and thousands of stars across the entire firmament. It tingles my spine to comprehend the vastness of the universe, and also a sense of gratitude that I have the opportunity to do astronomy.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Today, Princeton Men's Volleyball Club had our first home game, against Seton Hall University. Our team plays against other institutions around the area, mostly small colleges and university in the New Jersey area.
The last time I played competitive volleyball was over a year ago, and hardly touched a volleyball since then. I play as libero, rotating the position with Dave between sets. I managed to get some good passes in since none of the opposing players served me any floaters, the style of serve which I am utterly crap at receiving. Ironically, we scored quite a few points from dumping floaters on to their libero, who seemed as inept at dealing with them as I would have.
The game fluctuated back-and-forth, and a lot of our lost points were from silly mistakes, e.g. service errors. We had to go to 5 sets before we got the victory, and I felt that I had a lot more of my game to work on, especially keeping calm when dealing with floaters, and also my reading of the game.
Our next game is on Tuesday, which is pretty rushed.
The last time I played competitive volleyball was over a year ago, and hardly touched a volleyball since then. I play as libero, rotating the position with Dave between sets. I managed to get some good passes in since none of the opposing players served me any floaters, the style of serve which I am utterly crap at receiving. Ironically, we scored quite a few points from dumping floaters on to their libero, who seemed as inept at dealing with them as I would have.
The game fluctuated back-and-forth, and a lot of our lost points were from silly mistakes, e.g. service errors. We had to go to 5 sets before we got the victory, and I felt that I had a lot more of my game to work on, especially keeping calm when dealing with floaters, and also my reading of the game.
Our next game is on Tuesday, which is pretty rushed.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
I am doing a new semester project this semester on primordial black holes with Jerry Ostriker, one of the most senior figures in astrophysics. I was discussing some physics of the early universe with Jerry, and we tried to look up some stuff in a cosmology textbook written by Jim Peebles, another senior statesman in astrophysics who works across the road in the Physics Department here in Princeton.
We couldn't seem to find what we were looking for, and then suddenly Jerry picks up his phone and calls up Peebles. I was speechless as Jerry started quizzing Peebles on some subtleties of hydrodynamics in the early universe.
After several minutes of conversation on the phone, Jerry turns to me and dead-pans: 'Well, we didn't get very far'.
We couldn't seem to find what we were looking for, and then suddenly Jerry picks up his phone and calls up Peebles. I was speechless as Jerry started quizzing Peebles on some subtleties of hydrodynamics in the early universe.
After several minutes of conversation on the phone, Jerry turns to me and dead-pans: 'Well, we didn't get very far'.
Friday, February 09, 2007
I will be going to Chile in March! By a happy coincidence in timing, I will be going there for both an observing run (on a sample of magnetically active brown dwarfs) and a summer school (recall that it'll be summer in the southern hemisphere) on the theoretical aspects of the Atacama Cosmology Telescope project, which aims to measure the small-scale fluctuations on the cosmic microwave background.
The observing run will be at the Carnegie Institute's observatory in Las Campañas, about 200km north of the capital Santiago, in the Atacama desert (the driest desert in the world...I'd better bring a small bottle of Evian!). Incidentally, Chile must be one of the most one-dimensional countries in the world, in that one can describe most locations in the country in terms of north or south.
We have four nights at Las Campañas from the 13th to the 17th of March, and I am pretty excited at the chance to learn some observational skills. Now here's the interesting part: since our last night is the 17th, we will finish on the morning of the 18th. I then have to travel back to Santiago, where the summer school starts on the morning of the 19th. So I have less than a day to change from a night shift to a normal day shift, which should be interesting.
I won't have much time to do actual sightseeing apart from a couple of days after the summer school, but it should be a fun and very educational experience. I can't wait...
The observing run will be at the Carnegie Institute's observatory in Las Campañas, about 200km north of the capital Santiago, in the Atacama desert (the driest desert in the world...I'd better bring a small bottle of Evian!). Incidentally, Chile must be one of the most one-dimensional countries in the world, in that one can describe most locations in the country in terms of north or south.
We have four nights at Las Campañas from the 13th to the 17th of March, and I am pretty excited at the chance to learn some observational skills. Now here's the interesting part: since our last night is the 17th, we will finish on the morning of the 18th. I then have to travel back to Santiago, where the summer school starts on the morning of the 19th. So I have less than a day to change from a night shift to a normal day shift, which should be interesting.
I won't have much time to do actual sightseeing apart from a couple of days after the summer school, but it should be a fun and very educational experience. I can't wait...
Saturday, February 03, 2007
The new term starts in the coming Monday. It's been amazing how much I can get done when I can work at my own leisure without classes and seminars to attend. Nevertheless the reason I came over to this side of the Atlantic was to take extra classes and learn material I otherwise would not learn, so I'd better not complain.
Since getting back from my winter break, the past month has mostly been about doing the take-home final for my stellar structure class, and after that working to try to get something done in my semester project from the last term.
The take-home final had an interesting problem on the larger-than-expected radii on extra-solar planets close to their host stars. It was obviously highly simplified for us to work on, but the probable answer is that the atmosphere of the planet has a high metal content which increases the opacity. Hence, like a bubble with a thicker skin, it puffs up more than it would otherwise.
The flip side was that this problem intrigued me so much that I didn't pay as much attention to some of the other problems on the exam, which pulled my final grade down to a B. It's the first B I've received since I started university education, but at least better than I initially feared when I was trying to settle into grad school.
Since getting back from my winter break, the past month has mostly been about doing the take-home final for my stellar structure class, and after that working to try to get something done in my semester project from the last term.
The take-home final had an interesting problem on the larger-than-expected radii on extra-solar planets close to their host stars. It was obviously highly simplified for us to work on, but the probable answer is that the atmosphere of the planet has a high metal content which increases the opacity. Hence, like a bubble with a thicker skin, it puffs up more than it would otherwise.
The flip side was that this problem intrigued me so much that I didn't pay as much attention to some of the other problems on the exam, which pulled my final grade down to a B. It's the first B I've received since I started university education, but at least better than I initially feared when I was trying to settle into grad school.
Friday, January 26, 2007
Saturday, January 06, 2007
A news article I saw on the BBC today:
I salute you, sir, for bringing sustenance to impoverished university students worldwide.
Inventor of instant noodles dies
The inventor of instant noodles, Momofuku Ando, has died in Japan, aged 96, of a heart attack.
Mr Ando was born in Taiwan in 1910 and moved to Japan in 1933, founding Nissin Food Products Co after WWII to provide cheap, quick food for the masses. His most famous product, Cup Noodle, was released in 1971.
Its taste and ease of preparation - adding hot water to dried noodles in a waterproof polystyrene container - have made it popular around the world. Mr Ando said the inspiration for his product came when he saw people lining up to buy bowls of hot ramen noodle soup at a black market stall during the food shortages after World War II.
Noodles in space
He developed his first instant noodles, Chicken Ramen, in 1958. The product came out as Japan recovered from the ravages of WWII and began a long period of economic expansion. It was the masterstroke of providing a waterproof polystyrene container for the noodles that made his Cup Noodle an instant success in 1971.
Nissin has led the global instant noodle industry since then, selling 85.7 billion servings every year, according to Agence France Presse. His firm also developed a version of Cup Noodle for Japanese astronauts to eat on the space shuttle Discovery in 2005.
In 1999, Mr Ando opened a museum in Osaka devoted to instant noodles. He retired as Nissin's chairman in 2005. Japanese newspapers and businesspeople have been paying tribute to Mr Ando. "He was a self-made man who developed an epoch-making instant noodle product and spread it to all corners of the world," Akio Nomura, chairman of the Osaka Chamber of Commerce and Industry, told Kyodo news agency.
Mr Ando remained active until just days before his death, giving a New Year's speech to Nissin employees and having a lunch of Chicken Ramen with company executives.
I salute you, sir, for bringing sustenance to impoverished university students worldwide.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
