• Skip to primary navigation
  • Skip to main content
  • Skip to footer

Anna S. E. Lundberg

Coach, Speaker, Writer

  • About
  • Work with me
    • Coaching
    • Speaking
    • Writing
  • Contact
  • One Step Outside

Supermoons and Superstars – Where is the wonder?

14 October, 2014 By Anna S E Lundberg Leave a Comment

Last Tuesday night I had a bit of a ‘WOW’ moment when I saw the remarkably large and brightly glowing moon, and the following morning as I was driving to work I struggled to keep my eyes on the road as they kept straying up to the sky to examine the unusually clear contours and craters on the moon’s surface. Staring up at that small grey circle in our big blue dome, the thought that it was a huge spherical satellite – or perhaps a giant egg, as the latest episode of Doctor Who would have it – was hard to grasp, while the idea that people have actually walked on the moon is utterly incredible (to the point, in fact, that conspiracy theorists claim that it never happened).

Looking at how to design a rocket at a museum as a child
I never did build that rocket… though I did keep the fascination with astronomy.

As it turned out it wasn’t officially a supermoon, or a perigee full moon to use its scientific name, though we did have three of those this summer: 12th July, 10th August, 9th September. Super or not, the moon, the stars, the universe – it’s all pretty awe-inspiring if you start to think about it. But it’s so rare that you really do think about it. Just as we were more open to adventure when we were younger, so too were we more open to wonder and awe. Children will ask, and talk, and stare in fascination at things that we as adults find perfectly mundane and uninteresting.

One of the reasons why it’s so rare that we look up to the skies and philosophise is that we’re occupied with our unbelievably busy lives, our important to-do lists and our back-to-back appointments. Earlier this year I bought a book on the 2014 night sky (for £1 from a charity shop, but still) and it remains untouched on my bookshelf.

Another reason is that we usually can’t see much to wonder at, at least in the big cities, due to light pollution. Take a look at French photographer Thierry Cohen’s Darkened Cities and you’ll begin to imagine what we could see without all those artificial lights. How anyone got anything done when the sky looked like that before electrical lighting is beyond me.

If we finally do get to be in a place where we have the time, the remoteness, not to mention the clear weather, to marvel at the stars above, you would think that it should all be incredibly romantic. These days, though, it’s likely to come across as cheesy if a poor guy starts talking to you about the wonders of the universe. I caught the end of an episode of Don’t Tell the Bride over the weekend in which the groom was fascinated by space – but instead of being romantic or at least interesting, he came across as (at least partly self-confessed) geeky and a bit of a nut.

So I say keep wondering, keep looking up, and keep remembering how utterly miraculous and beautiful is each and every thing on earth and in the blackness above.

Right, I’m off to learn the remaining 80 or so constellations (out of 88) that I don’t know yet – then I can tick that off my bucket list, as well as impressing the next person who happens to be standing next to me on a starry, starry night….

Filed Under: Life Tagged With: darkened cities, doctor who moon, starry starry night, supermoon, thierry cohen

La Serena and Vicuña: Moai, bikes, and pisco tasting in northern Chile

15 July, 2013 By Anna S E Lundberg 1 Comment

I don’t think I experienced the full potential of La Serena. I didn’t go to the beach, and I didn’t do any tours. (I did have lunch at the beach, with a nice glass of red wine.) Instead, I ate Chinese, I ate sushi, and I went to the cinema (to see Now You See Me: super slick, really entertaining, go and see it!). The weather wasn’t great, and I was happy to have a bit of a break from manic tourism. I did, of course, go to my standard one museum per city, another Museo Arqueológico, with the usual mummies, ceramics, etc; and, most rewarding since I wasn’t planning a stopover on Easter Island on my trip, they had one of the Moai on display.

20130714-212839.jpgThe only one of the Moai to have done a tour of Europe, apparently

20130714-213029.jpgNot a lifeguard to be seen

20130714-213219.jpgLa Serena Lighthouse

Next, I headed to Vicuña, a town in the Elqui Valley outside of La Serena. My main reason for going was to visit one of the astronomical observatories, which isn’t possible during the full moon. Now it wasn’t a full moon when I arrived in Vicuña. It was a SUPERMOON. This unusually large moon (14% larger, and 30% brighter) appears when the full moon coincides with the moon’s closest approach to the Earth, which happens every 14 full moons, i.e. less than once per year. So a well-timed visit.

20130714-214028.jpgThe Torre Bauer and church in the town of Vicuña

Vicuña is also known, at least locally, as the birthplace of Gabriela Mistral, a Chilean poet and feminist, and the first Latin American to win the Nobel Prize in Literature, in 1945. According to Wikipedia, she is probably most quoted in English for Su Nombre es Hoy, ‘His name is today’:
“We are guilty of many errors and many faults, but our worst crime is abandoning the children, neglecting the fountain of life. Many of the things we need can wait. The child cannot. Right now is the time his bones are being formed, his blood is being made, and his senses are being developed. To him we cannot answer ‘Tomorrow’, his name is today.”
There was a museum in her honour right by my hostel, which closes on Mondays. I was there on a Monday.

Now what I did do in Vicuña was hire a bike and cycle around the countryside. I was given a very inaccurate map, a puncture repair kit (as if I’d remember how to use it), and a pink bottle of water, and off I pedalled. Soon I was coasting down the main road singing songs from Sound of Music. But I wasn’t supposed to be on a main road, so I cycled back and tried again to understand the map. I had to ask, and backtrack, a few more times, and I’m pretty sure I went up some unnecessary inclines, but eventually I found the correct route and could enjoy the views of the surrounding landscape. In fact, every time I got over-confident on a flat or downhill stretch, I would turn the corner to find a steep uphill stretch. But pride wouldn’t let me get off and walk, so each time I huffed and I puffed my way to the top. The cycle tour ended with a visit to the Capel pisco factory, which in turn ended with a tasting of three piscos of our choice. Pisco is a grape brandy developed in Chile, or in Peru, depending on whom you talk to, by the Spanish in the 16th century. Of course, I had to try the one called La Bruja, the witch, but the one I preferred was the stronger bicentennial limited edition, matured in wooden barrels for four to five years, now no longer being produced; and probably my favourite was the Cremisse, which was essentially Baileys. Luckily, the pisco factory was really right at the end of the bike tour, and I managed to stay upright for the last few hundred metres to return the bike and equipment in one piece.

20130714-213632.jpgElqui Valley

20130714-213839.jpgThe Elqui River

20130714-213659.jpgTaking a break

20130714-214132.jpgArriving at the pisco factory

20130714-214221.jpgTaking a sneaky look inside

20130714-214358.jpg

Filed Under: Chile, Travel Tagged With: bike true, Capel, Chile, Gabriela Mistral, La Serena, Museo Arqueológico, pisco tour, South America, supermoon, travel, Vicuña

More about Anna

Anna Lundberg is a success coach and business strategist who helps experienced corporate professionals reimagine success outside of the 9 to 5.

Find me on social

  • Instagram
  • Facebook
  • YouTube
  • LinkedIn

Apply for a free ‘one step’ call

Apply for your free ‘one step’ call with Anna, to get you started on the path towards more freedom, flexibility and fufilment, here >>

  • About
  • Media
  • Privacy Policy
  • Contact

Copyright © 2021 Anna S. E. Lundberg · Log in