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Called again!
Jul. 15th, 2005 09:37 pmYesterday's Bastille Day here in Kazakhstan was marred by the news that some critical part of our satellite was broken, which will require the device to be shipped back to Toulouse for repair. The repair is estimated to take a couple of weeks, which hopefully is not too far off the mark.
Naturally, that means the team that's assembled to help put this satellite into orbit - including yours truly - will be departing soon after the satellite has been dispatched, to reconvene once the bird is ready for the trip back to Baikonur. I'm still trying to figure out what kind of options I might have; it's most likely that I'll simply ship myself back home.
If you look out the window of the bus on the way to building 92A50 (the полтинник I keep referring to in these posts), you'll notice some horticulture going on at the site. Russians are seemingly wild about gardening, both of plants that yield edibles and of flowers. In a display that combines both skill at planting and pride in one's workplace (I think), the word ПРОТОН (PROTON, the name of Khrunichev's launch vehicle) has been laid out in the grounds near the building and planted with flowers. It's a little late in the season, and the flowers are looking a little puny, but you can see how it looks in the following shot:
(You should be able to make out the "T" and "O" and "H" of the layout, which faces the building and is "upside down" with respect to the photographer. The ILS offices where we work are on the floor just above the protective awning above the air conditioning units.) Somewhat behind the above vantage point are a couple of more protected plots with flowers. Here's a shot of some of the color:
There's a vegetable garden growing behind the screen of foliage on the left-hand side of the following shot. The place is a paradise if you like dill.
Despite the technical problem with the satellite, there was no stopping the planned Bastille Day celebration, which was to be held at the newly painted Proton Club (which technically is a дворец культуры, or "palace of culture"). As I've noted before in my LJ, the building houses an auditorium, a kitchen, a game room, and a number of multipurpose rooms. The following shot is an exterior view, showing the miniature Proton launch vehicle decoration out front.
The party went well. Vladimir interpreted the toasts, which were generally short and to the point. The waitstaff did its usual excellent job serving the food. I spoke more French than I have in quite a while. At one point, the crowd broke out with La Marseillaise, which made me think of the famous scene in Rick's cafe from Casablanca. And just as in the movie, at the conclusion of the song, the crowd cheered "Vive la France!" (with the Americans joining in, for the most part).
As the evening progressed, people started to get looser and mischief raised its smiling head. The managers of the French team managed to get themselves into a tangle at one point (with the help of some of their team):
These people know how to party!
I was the "on call" interpreter today, again with less-than-optimum connectivity from the hotel, to the point where Internet access from the ILS office made me value every byte of data coming in. In the morning, as penance for my overindulgence during yesterday's party (it wasn't that I ate a whole lot at one sitting, but that I ate a little bit a whole lot of times), I burned over 650 calories on the treadmill. And again, as yesterday, I managed to run for 3 minutes, but I upped the rate to 6.3 mph so as to slightly exceed what I recall as the the minimum speed at which one would have to jog/run in order to successfully complete a USMC 3-mile run in 27 minutes (as I did back - wa-a-a-y back - in the day).
As part of my on-call duties, I was asked to accompany a bus of team members into town, which I did. We just got back a few minutes ago. Time to wind down.
Cheers...
Naturally, that means the team that's assembled to help put this satellite into orbit - including yours truly - will be departing soon after the satellite has been dispatched, to reconvene once the bird is ready for the trip back to Baikonur. I'm still trying to figure out what kind of options I might have; it's most likely that I'll simply ship myself back home.
If you look out the window of the bus on the way to building 92A50 (the полтинник I keep referring to in these posts), you'll notice some horticulture going on at the site. Russians are seemingly wild about gardening, both of plants that yield edibles and of flowers. In a display that combines both skill at planting and pride in one's workplace (I think), the word ПРОТОН (PROTON, the name of Khrunichev's launch vehicle) has been laid out in the grounds near the building and planted with flowers. It's a little late in the season, and the flowers are looking a little puny, but you can see how it looks in the following shot:
(You should be able to make out the "T" and "O" and "H" of the layout, which faces the building and is "upside down" with respect to the photographer. The ILS offices where we work are on the floor just above the protective awning above the air conditioning units.) Somewhat behind the above vantage point are a couple of more protected plots with flowers. Here's a shot of some of the color:
There's a vegetable garden growing behind the screen of foliage on the left-hand side of the following shot. The place is a paradise if you like dill.
Despite the technical problem with the satellite, there was no stopping the planned Bastille Day celebration, which was to be held at the newly painted Proton Club (which technically is a дворец культуры, or "palace of culture"). As I've noted before in my LJ, the building houses an auditorium, a kitchen, a game room, and a number of multipurpose rooms. The following shot is an exterior view, showing the miniature Proton launch vehicle decoration out front.
The party went well. Vladimir interpreted the toasts, which were generally short and to the point. The waitstaff did its usual excellent job serving the food. I spoke more French than I have in quite a while. At one point, the crowd broke out with La Marseillaise, which made me think of the famous scene in Rick's cafe from Casablanca. And just as in the movie, at the conclusion of the song, the crowd cheered "Vive la France!" (with the Americans joining in, for the most part).
As the evening progressed, people started to get looser and mischief raised its smiling head. The managers of the French team managed to get themselves into a tangle at one point (with the help of some of their team):
These people know how to party!
I was the "on call" interpreter today, again with less-than-optimum connectivity from the hotel, to the point where Internet access from the ILS office made me value every byte of data coming in. In the morning, as penance for my overindulgence during yesterday's party (it wasn't that I ate a whole lot at one sitting, but that I ate a little bit a whole lot of times), I burned over 650 calories on the treadmill. And again, as yesterday, I managed to run for 3 minutes, but I upped the rate to 6.3 mph so as to slightly exceed what I recall as the the minimum speed at which one would have to jog/run in order to successfully complete a USMC 3-mile run in 27 minutes (as I did back - wa-a-a-y back - in the day).
As part of my on-call duties, I was asked to accompany a bus of team members into town, which I did. We just got back a few minutes ago. Time to wind down.
Cheers...
