Sixty One Degrees

Looking at the stars

Pirquli, Azerbaijan

Church, mosque, temple. Church, mosque, temple. Such had been my life for much of the last ten months. Time for a change of pace and I had just the place. One of the Soviet Union's top astronomical observatories, boasting the fourth largest telescope in Europe.

It was already getting dark when I took a taxi up the rough 25km to the observatory. I had no idea what I would do or where I would stay when I got there but I figured something would work out.

We pulled up at the entrance at about dusk. "Is there any observing tonight?", I asked the gatekeeper. He thought not but offered that I could sleep in his little hut and maybe see someone tomorrow. He even insisted that I have his bed and he would sleep on the wooden floor.

We sat there for a while before some other workers turned up. After a brief discussion amongst themselves they indicated for me to follow them. They took me across the dark grounds to the flat of Mamet. 75 years old, senior astronomer at the observatory, and speaker of English. After a moments surprise at this intrusion at 10pm he invited me in for tea and some food and even offered that I could spend the night on his couch.

He had a simple flat, bedroom, lounge room, kitchen. Mathematical equations covered a blackboard in the hallway. The paint was peeling and the walls crumbled a little. No money for repairs, he said. He lived alone here since his wife died seven years before. He still worked every day at the observatory but lamented the lack of international exposure since the break-up of the Soviet Union. "I used to go to Leningrad every month and now I haven't been for ten years".

The observatory seemed poorly run. The director is an apparatchik rather than a scientist, more interested in rules and regulations than science. The big two metre telescope was once the pride of the Soviet Union but is now sadly compromised by light pollution from a newly-built housing block inside the compound and unrestricted development just outside. Cars and trucks thunder along the perimeter dirt road, throwing up dust and further polluting observations. The workers housed by the new accomodation seem mostly idle.

But there is still a twinkle in Mamet's eye as he shows me around the site the next day. A touch of pride as we gaze upon the big telescope and his own, smaller, solar observatory. Before I depart he presents me with one of his books, only recently published. I give him the copy of New Scientist that I picked up in Iran. Dark Energy, his field of interest, is the cover story. He smiles.