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I tried to see the Leonid meteor showers a couple of weeks ago from my balcony. It was raining. And yesterday morning I got up quite early because of the spectacular sight promised me by the astronomy newsletter I subscribe to: 

There was also going to be "earthshine," also known poetically as "ashen light"—when, close to the new moon, the reflected light of Earth is reflected onto the moon, enabling the whole lunar disk, even the part normally dark, to become visible and you see "the old moon in the new moon's arms" (that's pretty poetic for a Facts on File Dictionary of Astronomy!). 

Anyway, it was cloudy and I missed the whole show. Most of the time, however, I have quite a  view to the southeast—the whole Sorrentine peninsula is a silhouette. I often think that if I could live 5,000 years—10,000, max—in my house and watch the yearly procession of the sun as it moves from left to right, dawnstep by dawnstep, and then back—why, I could reinvent astronomy! I have part of it figured out already. In the summer, the sun rises behind Vesuvius. That makes sense. Vesuvius is a volcano. That gives the sun heat and causes summer. As the sun moves further out away from the volcano towards Sorrento, it gets cooler. 

Gotta check my newsletter. Maybe I'm missing something. 

Sea-level astronomy is hampered by general atmospheric haze and—especially in or near a big city such as Naples—light pollution. Having said that, I am still tempted to run up to the new store on Vomero, where they sell digital cameras, computers, digital cameras, computers, and digital cameras and computers. I think I saw a small telescope on a shelf a few weeks ago. I can't miss this chance to see Mars as it—in the words of the great astronomer, Percival Lowell—"blazes forth against the dark background of space with a splendor that outshines Sirius and rivals the giant Jupiter himself." Mars is at "perihelic opposition" and has not been this close to Earth for 50,000 years. I recall working on a particularly good drawing of a bison for the Lascaux Municipal Museum at the time. 

I thought I might be able to get something Neapolitan out of Mars—Marte, in Italian. Maybe a good Neapolitan noodle—say, martellini. ("Man, that's some fine plate of martellini! Think I might get the recipe?") If only…if only. Alas, martellino means "little hammer". It is also a regional name of the bird called, scientifically, the cisticola juncidis, the Fan-tailed Warbler. At least, I think that's the English name, and if you had a fan-tail, wouldn't you warble? I rest my case. I thought, too, that perhaps Giovanni Schiaparelli (1835-1910) the astronomer who started us looking for "canals" on Mars, might have been from Naples, but, no, he had to come from Savigliano, not far from Cuneo, a town way up there west of Genoa. Cuneo has a folk-reputation for turning out slow-witted people, of whom Schiaparelli was definitely not one.

In any event, most serious star-gazing in these parts operates out of the observatory in the Apennines near Castelgrande, well east of Salerno. It is one of the most important observatories in Europe and is run by the Naples observatory. The Naples observatory, itself (photo, right), is located on the Capodimonte hill and has its roots in the—if not infinite, at least benevolently despotic—wisdom of Charles III of Bourbon; he endowed a Chair of Navigation and Astronomy at the University of Naples in 1735. Actual construction of an observatory, however, had to wait a while. During the French decade in Naples, Murat approved the plan, and construction was started in 1812. The observatory was completed after the Bourbon restoration and conducted its first measurements in 1820. 

The Naples observatory has a 40 cm main telescope that, on occasion, is open to the public. There is also a good library and museum of astronomical artifacts. I see that on September 2 they will have a "Mars Party." They will have missed the close encounter by a few days. (Gods of War may come and Gods of War may go, but August vacation runs through the 31st.) Nevertheless, it will still be a good glance through the telescope.

(Mar 12) As noted above, most research in astronomy in the Campania region now goes on elsewhere, at the observatory in the Apennines near Castelgrande, east of Salerno. The smaller facility, however, at Capodimonte in Naples, is more than just an historically important curiosity. It continues to provide local enthusiasts and schools with solid astronomy exhibits. The ability to do that will take a big step forward next week with the opening of a new planetarium with a state-of-the art digital projector. The new facilty seats 50 patrons, and the overhead dome is 7 meters (21 feet) in diameter. The planetarium was financed by the Campania Regional Council for Culture and the National Institute of Astrophysics. The opening program will combine projected displays and the opportunity for patrons to spend a few mintutes star-gazing through the observatory telescope.

The Naples observatory has a website here.]