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A delightful evening...
Nov. 3rd, 2001 07:13 amInitially, we had developed the impression that the Black Sea restaurant was within the near-extreme range of walking distance of the hotel (i.e., maybe a mile or so away). As this turned out to be not the case (the place way too far located to even consider walking), we had intended to take a series of cabs to and from the restaurant.
Fortunately, someone came up with a brainstorm: hire the hotel's minibus, which holds 30 people, and then we'd only have to rely on one or two more cabs or private vehicles to transport the rest.
But why am I carrying on about the transport?
Since joining the ATA and the Slavic Division, I've found the annual Division dinner to be a promising highlight of the conference. It offers an opportunity for really good networking in what is hoped will be an enjoyable setting.
There have been years in which the choice of venue has been less than fortunate (the conference in Colorado Springs stands out in this regard, and is not necessarily alone). But last night made up for it.
Somehow - don't ask me how - we (a group of about 40 or 45 people) ended up occupying the entire restaurant to ourselves. When we arrived, the places were set, and the tables were already groaning with appetizers. I recall seeing sliced herring, lox, marinated woods mushrooms, tahini with garlic, small meat pies (pirozhki), and an assortment of sliced cold cuts (most of which I could not identify offhand). I'm sure I've missed a plate or two.
And then the food started coming. Potatoes fried with garlic. A Romaine salad. Catfish served seemingly whole, but cleverly cut into bite-sized pieces. ...and coming. Different meats (pork, beef, chicken) with fried onion and rice. Little pots (whose name escapes me) filled with a mixture of meat and mushrooms. ...and coming. Assorted pastries. Tea.
Obligatory toasts were offered, and drunk. When my turn came, I could think of nothing better than for the gentlemen to raise a glass to the ladies (as unimaginative as my choice may have been, it nonetheless was accepted by the party).
Vadim went around soliciting rhymes for his traditional, trademark burimé. I threw in "breast" and "finesse." Jim W., who sat across from me with his wife and who hails from Ellijay, Georgia, offered "textual" and "sexual." Others offered Vadim the results of their own poisoned thinking <grin>. Since there were so many of us, it took Vadim some time to compose the poem, but we made sure he was well-victualed in his travails. The final product was greeted by the usual hysterical laughter.
There was, of course, the obligatory music, provided by a trio of local artists. What they lacked, perhaps, in quality (though I disavow any competence to judge them) they certainly made up for in quantity and verve and rhythm. A steady stream of my colleagues quit their seats and did their thing on the dance floor. I found it interesting to compare styles, which ranged from quasi-ballroom-he-leads-she-follows to the freewheeling, anything-goes style that has been the rule on dance floors for the past generation or so. It is particularly interesting to note how some otherwise staid, quiet folks suddenly become whirling, animated maniacs when placed on a dance floor to suitable music.
The old saw about a good time having been had by all held last night. And the price? Oh, I've paid much, much more, for much, much less.
Cheers...
Fortunately, someone came up with a brainstorm: hire the hotel's minibus, which holds 30 people, and then we'd only have to rely on one or two more cabs or private vehicles to transport the rest.
But why am I carrying on about the transport?
Since joining the ATA and the Slavic Division, I've found the annual Division dinner to be a promising highlight of the conference. It offers an opportunity for really good networking in what is hoped will be an enjoyable setting.
There have been years in which the choice of venue has been less than fortunate (the conference in Colorado Springs stands out in this regard, and is not necessarily alone). But last night made up for it.
Somehow - don't ask me how - we (a group of about 40 or 45 people) ended up occupying the entire restaurant to ourselves. When we arrived, the places were set, and the tables were already groaning with appetizers. I recall seeing sliced herring, lox, marinated woods mushrooms, tahini with garlic, small meat pies (pirozhki), and an assortment of sliced cold cuts (most of which I could not identify offhand). I'm sure I've missed a plate or two.
And then the food started coming. Potatoes fried with garlic. A Romaine salad. Catfish served seemingly whole, but cleverly cut into bite-sized pieces. ...and coming. Different meats (pork, beef, chicken) with fried onion and rice. Little pots (whose name escapes me) filled with a mixture of meat and mushrooms. ...and coming. Assorted pastries. Tea.
Obligatory toasts were offered, and drunk. When my turn came, I could think of nothing better than for the gentlemen to raise a glass to the ladies (as unimaginative as my choice may have been, it nonetheless was accepted by the party).
Vadim went around soliciting rhymes for his traditional, trademark burimé. I threw in "breast" and "finesse." Jim W., who sat across from me with his wife and who hails from Ellijay, Georgia, offered "textual" and "sexual." Others offered Vadim the results of their own poisoned thinking <grin>. Since there were so many of us, it took Vadim some time to compose the poem, but we made sure he was well-victualed in his travails. The final product was greeted by the usual hysterical laughter.
There was, of course, the obligatory music, provided by a trio of local artists. What they lacked, perhaps, in quality (though I disavow any competence to judge them) they certainly made up for in quantity and verve and rhythm. A steady stream of my colleagues quit their seats and did their thing on the dance floor. I found it interesting to compare styles, which ranged from quasi-ballroom-he-leads-she-follows to the freewheeling, anything-goes style that has been the rule on dance floors for the past generation or so. It is particularly interesting to note how some otherwise staid, quiet folks suddenly become whirling, animated maniacs when placed on a dance floor to suitable music.
The old saw about a good time having been had by all held last night. And the price? Oh, I've paid much, much more, for much, much less.
Cheers...
