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The interpreter's life...
Jul. 5th, 2006 12:32 pmLast night's festivities went off well, even if they started out slowly.
Early in the show, a call went out for an interpreter to come work at a table that had been set aside for management, in a separate structure called a "беседка" (arbor) that is sheltered by grape vines out in front of the hotel. I arrived in time to say almost exactly nothing, as our Program Manager, who had just finished toasting with a couple of the Russian managers, was headed back to the grill to cook hamburgers.
While trying to figure out a diplomatic way of excusing myself (there being nothing to do), Leonid G., the manager of the processing facility said "Take a seat," in a tone that would brook no opposition.
For the next half hour or so, I kept the Russian managers company, keeping up with them as they toasted with shots of Jack Daniels, and finding out along the way that Leonid understood me to be an emigrant. I suppose that says something for the quality of my work, even if I'm not sure what that might be. Still, I felt flattered by the remark.
Leonid has been involved in the space industry in Russia for a long time. Later, he was sitting out in the general area with my boss here, Sergei Z., and telling various war stories about his career at Baikonur. Regrettably, between his enunciation and the background noise, I missed about half of what he was saying, but what I did make out was fascinating.
At about 10 pm, someone got the idea of starting up a poker game. I unashamedly bought into the game (200 rubles), which turned into a session of Texas Hold'em, degenerating only near the end of the evening into a round of "Follow the Queen" and "Seven Card No-Peek."
I finished ahead for the session, which is always gratifying.
The spacecraft arrives tomorrow, with the main team, and everyone on the early team is scrambling to get everything finished in time for the arrival of both. I've already supported one long meeting today and am on tap to interpret for the facility acceptance walkdown this afternoon. I also need to finish a document certifying a rail-mounted crane as suitable for satellite unloading, and need to finish it today.
One long pole in the tent has to do with the semi-final World Cup match "tonight" (actually tomorrow morning at 1 am, local time) between the French and Portuguese teams. There seems to be a problem with getting a live feed to pipe into the auditorium at the Proton Club for the Astrium guys, who will undoubtedly be there to the last man, rooting for their countrymen. Me, I plan to miss this televised spectacle.
The bus back to the "полтинник" (the word for a 50-kopeck piece, which is the local slang for the processing facility, which formally is known as "Building 92A-50") will be leaving the Fili in about 10 minutes, which is just enough time to run upstairs and take care of a couple of details.
Cheers...
Early in the show, a call went out for an interpreter to come work at a table that had been set aside for management, in a separate structure called a "беседка" (arbor) that is sheltered by grape vines out in front of the hotel. I arrived in time to say almost exactly nothing, as our Program Manager, who had just finished toasting with a couple of the Russian managers, was headed back to the grill to cook hamburgers.
While trying to figure out a diplomatic way of excusing myself (there being nothing to do), Leonid G., the manager of the processing facility said "Take a seat," in a tone that would brook no opposition.
For the next half hour or so, I kept the Russian managers company, keeping up with them as they toasted with shots of Jack Daniels, and finding out along the way that Leonid understood me to be an emigrant. I suppose that says something for the quality of my work, even if I'm not sure what that might be. Still, I felt flattered by the remark.
Leonid has been involved in the space industry in Russia for a long time. Later, he was sitting out in the general area with my boss here, Sergei Z., and telling various war stories about his career at Baikonur. Regrettably, between his enunciation and the background noise, I missed about half of what he was saying, but what I did make out was fascinating.
At about 10 pm, someone got the idea of starting up a poker game. I unashamedly bought into the game (200 rubles), which turned into a session of Texas Hold'em, degenerating only near the end of the evening into a round of "Follow the Queen" and "Seven Card No-Peek."
I finished ahead for the session, which is always gratifying.
The spacecraft arrives tomorrow, with the main team, and everyone on the early team is scrambling to get everything finished in time for the arrival of both. I've already supported one long meeting today and am on tap to interpret for the facility acceptance walkdown this afternoon. I also need to finish a document certifying a rail-mounted crane as suitable for satellite unloading, and need to finish it today.
One long pole in the tent has to do with the semi-final World Cup match "tonight" (actually tomorrow morning at 1 am, local time) between the French and Portuguese teams. There seems to be a problem with getting a live feed to pipe into the auditorium at the Proton Club for the Astrium guys, who will undoubtedly be there to the last man, rooting for their countrymen. Me, I plan to miss this televised spectacle.
The bus back to the "полтинник" (the word for a 50-kopeck piece, which is the local slang for the processing facility, which formally is known as "Building 92A-50") will be leaving the Fili in about 10 minutes, which is just enough time to run upstairs and take care of a couple of details.
Cheers...
