On call, and so forth...
Nov. 18th, 2008 05:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alexpgpAccording to the replanned interpreter staffing schedule, I am the on-call interpreter today, and that assignment began with an early wakeup call to expedite a conversation about relative humidity. Since then, however, it's been pretty quiet.
The day dawned as it has for many recent days in Baikonur, with a dense fog outside. However, today is the first time that the fog has failed to burn away by late morning, and right now, all of the bare trees and bushes in front of our hotel are coated with a white layer of hoar-frost. The fog is so dense and unrelenting that some folks who had been scheduled to depart for Moscow earlier this afternoon will have to wait until tomorrow, as the Krainy airport is shut down.
I tried to take advantage of the slow day to get some laundry done, but when I went downstairs to the laundry, there was a pile of stuff in front of me (the hotel will do your laundry for a fee, but they use the same machines). As I turned to take my hamper back upstairs "Mama Anna" (as we all know the hotel administrator) told me to put the hamper back in the laundry room and, in her words, "not to come back." (Nevertheless, I glanced in later and noted that my laundry had been sorted and was being washed in separate loads, which is some kind of first for my duds.)
I got about 40 minutes of exercise in this morning, and shared the workout room with one of the members of the French team. My French is coming back, even if what I say sounds a little funny.
It is convenient to group campaigners into three fundamental categories: the Americans, the French, and the Russians. Last night, the Americans held a "movie night" in the television room, watching Spies Like Us. The Russians were intent on baking themselves in the sauna until it was learned that our sysadmin - blessings be upon him - was leaving on this afternoon's flight to Moscow, which called for a few thimblefuls of vodka all the way around.
The French? Well, they did their usual thing, taking dinner at a (relatively) late hour. Between the Russians (and me) wishing our colleague well and the French doing what comes naturally over the dinner table, last night's dining hall was a fair dinkum replacement for "a fireside far from the cares that are."
And even though we're only ten days or so into this campaign, that's pretty important.
Cheers...
The day dawned as it has for many recent days in Baikonur, with a dense fog outside. However, today is the first time that the fog has failed to burn away by late morning, and right now, all of the bare trees and bushes in front of our hotel are coated with a white layer of hoar-frost. The fog is so dense and unrelenting that some folks who had been scheduled to depart for Moscow earlier this afternoon will have to wait until tomorrow, as the Krainy airport is shut down.
I tried to take advantage of the slow day to get some laundry done, but when I went downstairs to the laundry, there was a pile of stuff in front of me (the hotel will do your laundry for a fee, but they use the same machines). As I turned to take my hamper back upstairs "Mama Anna" (as we all know the hotel administrator) told me to put the hamper back in the laundry room and, in her words, "not to come back." (Nevertheless, I glanced in later and noted that my laundry had been sorted and was being washed in separate loads, which is some kind of first for my duds.)
I got about 40 minutes of exercise in this morning, and shared the workout room with one of the members of the French team. My French is coming back, even if what I say sounds a little funny.
It is convenient to group campaigners into three fundamental categories: the Americans, the French, and the Russians. Last night, the Americans held a "movie night" in the television room, watching Spies Like Us. The Russians were intent on baking themselves in the sauna until it was learned that our sysadmin - blessings be upon him - was leaving on this afternoon's flight to Moscow, which called for a few thimblefuls of vodka all the way around.
The French? Well, they did their usual thing, taking dinner at a (relatively) late hour. Between the Russians (and me) wishing our colleague well and the French doing what comes naturally over the dinner table, last night's dining hall was a fair dinkum replacement for "a fireside far from the cares that are."
And even though we're only ten days or so into this campaign, that's pretty important.
Cheers...
