34
Dommanget worked at the Royal Belgian Observatory at Uccle, so I went
to Brussels to perfect my knowledge of astronomical site testing. I took the
opportunity to do some tourism; it was my first time away from Spain and I
wanted to make the most of the occasion. Brussels was not yet the European
capital and, having just left Paris, I was not in the least impressed by it.
Once back at the French capital, and with the help of Professor Barbier of
the Astrophysics Institute, I also took the opportunity to learn about the
observational and data reduction techniques for measuring the brightness of
the night sky. While working with him in Paris, I made the fateful discovery
that we are stardust and accompanied Barbier to Haute-Provence Observatory,
where he had his photometers mounted. It was also my first experience of
couchettes on trains.
I was awed by the magnificent panoramas from the Observatory onto the
Rhône Valley, with the bright, snowy Alps blocking the eastern horizon. It
was the first time I had seen a true astronomical observatory (the one in Paris
seemed more like a beautiful museum, a bit like the observatory in Madrid,
but on a grander scale). Adding a mysterious scientific touch, the white domes
blended with the Provençal landscape, which I had previously known only
from the Impressionists.
I was bursting with curiosity and keenness. I familiarized myself with each
telescope, its instruments, and auxiliary equipment. Everything amazed me
and I took copious notes. I overcame my shyness, bad French, and scant
knowledge of astrophysics in an effort to speak to whomever would lend me
an ear. I kept a tight rein on my prejudices and wanted to learn as much as I
could there, which for me was a great deal. I paid endless visits at all hours to
learn whatever they could teach me, ferreting out information as far as my
timidity and complexes would allow. All this enthralled me and bolstered my
research vocation. I reviewed my notes in my room, underlining what had
seemed to me to be of particular interest. With my humble scientific background, this observatory seemed to me an achievement beyond our reach.
I had been fortunate in making Daniel Barbier’s acquaintance; he was an
astrophysicist of repute, a kindly and approachable person, and an authority
on stellar atmospheres. Since we spent a lot of time together, we spoke a great
deal, and he inundated me with his knowledge of the Universe. It now became
clear to me that I should dedicate myself to astrophysics. I now fully understood that the fact that we are stardust was well-proven and much more than
a fanciful turn of phrase.
It is humbling to consider that our planet and our conceited species are all
dust generated from the stars. The elements that make up our precious bodies
were cooked slowly and eventually expelled catastrophically by stars that died,
F. Sánchez
Dommanget worked at the Royal Belgian Observatory at Uccle, so I went
to Brussels to perfect my knowledge of astronomical site testing. I took the
opportunity to do some tourism; it was my first time away from Spain and I
wanted to make the most of the occasion. Brussels was not yet the European
capital and, having just left Paris, I was not in the least impressed by it.
Once back at the French capital, and with the help of Professor Barbier of
the Astrophysics Institute, I also took the opportunity to learn about the
observational and data reduction techniques for measuring the brightness of
the night sky. While working with him in Paris, I made the fateful discovery
that we are stardust and accompanied Barbier to Haute-Provence Observatory,
where he had his photometers mounted. It was also my first experience of
couchettes on trains.
I was awed by the magnificent panoramas from the Observatory onto the
Rhône Valley, with the bright, snowy Alps blocking the eastern horizon. It
was the first time I had seen a true astronomical observatory (the one in Paris
seemed more like a beautiful museum, a bit like the observatory in Madrid,
but on a grander scale). Adding a mysterious scientific touch, the white domes
blended with the Provençal landscape, which I had previously known only
from the Impressionists.
I was bursting with curiosity and keenness. I familiarized myself with each
telescope, its instruments, and auxiliary equipment. Everything amazed me
and I took copious notes. I overcame my shyness, bad French, and scant
knowledge of astrophysics in an effort to speak to whomever would lend me
an ear. I kept a tight rein on my prejudices and wanted to learn as much as I
could there, which for me was a great deal. I paid endless visits at all hours to
learn whatever they could teach me, ferreting out information as far as my
timidity and complexes would allow. All this enthralled me and bolstered my
research vocation. I reviewed my notes in my room, underlining what had
seemed to me to be of particular interest. With my humble scientific background, this observatory seemed to me an achievement beyond our reach.
I had been fortunate in making Daniel Barbier’s acquaintance; he was an
astrophysicist of repute, a kindly and approachable person, and an authority
on stellar atmospheres. Since we spent a lot of time together, we spoke a great
deal, and he inundated me with his knowledge of the Universe. It now became
clear to me that I should dedicate myself to astrophysics. I now fully understood that the fact that we are stardust was well-proven and much more than
a fanciful turn of phrase.
It is humbling to consider that our planet and our conceited species are all
dust generated from the stars. The elements that make up our precious bodies
were cooked slowly and eventually expelled catastrophically by stars that died,
F. Sánchez