Jul. 18th, 2000

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I saw Paul for the first time in about 6 weeks. He's just back from Russia and Kazakhstan.

During our short debrief, he expressed amazement at the American habit of washing hard liquor down with beer (can you say "Boilermaker"?), which he witnessed in Kazakhstan as a few Americans on hand to witness the Service Module launch adapted local products (cognac and beer) to their own nefarious ends. You can't really blame them; most of the folks in the program have been on tenterhooks for a couple of years waiting for the SM to launch.

Paul also noted that the restaurant apparently pulled a fast one by bringing opened bottles of mineral water to the table (you really don't want to be drinking tap water in too many places outside the US). The manager of the restaurant claimed it was part of the "service"; Paul insisted that the rest of the night's "service" consist of water bottles that get opened at the table.

I recall this happening to me in Spain a couple of years ago. The water from the bottle tasted flat as hell and undoubtedly could trace its provenance only as far as the tap in the kitchen. Thankfully, we didn't get sick from the water. The same could not be said, apparently, for some of the folks traveling last week.

Paul also noted that the difference in price between Moscow and Baikonur was nothing short of amazing. Two small shots of vodka in Moscow cost 385 rubles (at 28 rubles per dollar), while a portion about five times larger could be ordered in Kazakhstan for 24 rubles (less than a dollar).

This was only a small part of my debrief with Paul, should anyone get the idea that the be-all and end-all of life on the road in Russia consists of maintaining an adequate blood alcohol level. The rest of our conversation involved business matters and progress in negotiating a number of issues, and is not terribly interesting nor suitable for posting here.

Cheers...

P.S. No progress as far as my post of a couple of days ago is concerned. Been busier than all get-out at the office. Then I had to sneak out in the middle of the day today to go to the title company and close on the Friendswood property; it's amazing all the stuff one has to sign. Almost as amazing are the marks left in the surface of the closing table from other folks signing away their lives. (Me, I was very careful to rub the surface of the table hard to make the marks I made go away.)

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