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It was a nice week in San Diego.
Not at all what I expected (which, I confess, was based on the last of these I went to, this was as night to day). None of the silliness. No turf battles (well, not to speak of) and more to the point, no unreasonable demands of the interpreting staff.
First, let me say I could get used to being put up in officers quarters on naval bases. I expected maid service... I didn't expect to have my dishes done.
There were only three Ukrainians there, and they all understood English. This is a mixed blessing, because the ignorance of the audience can cover (for at least a little while) a multitude of error. More to the point, it meant that when one of them felt the need to speak in Russian, it was because he trusted us to get the gist of it into clearer English than he could, and he wanted to be sure the idea was clearly stated in his mind; so he defaulted to Russian.
I got stuck with one of those, on a subject that ought to have been (in fact was) covered in Sacramento. I suspect the people in charge of implementation just decided the Ukrianians didn't need to all be told that the desert battle they thought they were planning for was going to be held in Europe.
And I saw a lot of that. Oddly (or perhaps not) this attitude came from the americans who live and work in Ukraine. At least two of whom seemed proud, in that self-conscious way, that they could barely make polite noises in the language.
They've seen (and boast of) how well the Ukrainians do things, of what a marvel the simulation center where the exercise is to take place is and the changes to be seen everywhere, from year to year. Still they seem to see them as children in long pants.
On the flip side are the folks in the Army. A fair bit of respect goes from one to the other. This is where we earnt our keep. I've been to Ukraine twice. And done some work with Ukrainians here in the states. I speak the language (well, close enough... it's like speaking to an Englishman, every so often something as simple as a dish of meatballs will cause someone to get all confused).
So I get to be cultural filter. Example: One of our Lt. Col.s (did I mention I was one of five people at this shindig who didn't have a commission?) asked on of their Col.s what he studied in college. I had to point out, later, that the system is different. Our officers join either in, or after, university. Their officers choose the career in their late teens and go to a military academy (with a branch specialty... the one near L'Viv is surveying/cartography, and journalism). They are in the academy for 5-6 years.
Victor asked me, as we walked home (well back to our quarters) from getting ice-cream, for him, and dinner for me (and it occurs to me, that this is part of why I like Russians... they live with gusto. Voctor wanted Ice Cream. Nothing else. We went out, looked at books, got him some ice cream and he was content. An American would have been looking for something fancy, or rustic, or quaint. He just wanted some decent ice cream), why I wasn't an officer. Explaining the differences in the system to him, was harder.
It was a nice week.
I had Friday all to myself (and an incipient cold) and wandered around Coronado. Ending the day at the Hotel Del, watching the sunset sinking into the sea, and the golden light on the white wood. My dinner was decent, but the prices demanded a level of service I didn't get. It started off well enough, but quickly petered out to just better than most hotels.
The weekend, was cut short. I got home (the trains were stopped, or I could have left on Friday, even Thus. night, had I been so inclined... but no, Thursday night I was taken to dinner by a man who tried to kick me out of the army, more than 10 years ago, and basked in the, personal, satisfaction, of his public praise and appreciation. I also got to send off the Ukrainians with toasts, and talk some Moral Philosophy, with a man who is going to be deployed, and is trying to reconcile his doubts with his duty. Thurs. was a night not to be missed), we went to Joshua Tree, and I went home again on Saturday, to nurse my cold.
To sleep, and drink, and eat a little, and sleep some more. It has been either a mild flu, or a rank cold. I am still not over it, though from the changes in my aches and pains I am (touch wood) finally on the mend.
Not at all what I expected (which, I confess, was based on the last of these I went to, this was as night to day). None of the silliness. No turf battles (well, not to speak of) and more to the point, no unreasonable demands of the interpreting staff.
First, let me say I could get used to being put up in officers quarters on naval bases. I expected maid service... I didn't expect to have my dishes done.
There were only three Ukrainians there, and they all understood English. This is a mixed blessing, because the ignorance of the audience can cover (for at least a little while) a multitude of error. More to the point, it meant that when one of them felt the need to speak in Russian, it was because he trusted us to get the gist of it into clearer English than he could, and he wanted to be sure the idea was clearly stated in his mind; so he defaulted to Russian.
I got stuck with one of those, on a subject that ought to have been (in fact was) covered in Sacramento. I suspect the people in charge of implementation just decided the Ukrianians didn't need to all be told that the desert battle they thought they were planning for was going to be held in Europe.
And I saw a lot of that. Oddly (or perhaps not) this attitude came from the americans who live and work in Ukraine. At least two of whom seemed proud, in that self-conscious way, that they could barely make polite noises in the language.
They've seen (and boast of) how well the Ukrainians do things, of what a marvel the simulation center where the exercise is to take place is and the changes to be seen everywhere, from year to year. Still they seem to see them as children in long pants.
On the flip side are the folks in the Army. A fair bit of respect goes from one to the other. This is where we earnt our keep. I've been to Ukraine twice. And done some work with Ukrainians here in the states. I speak the language (well, close enough... it's like speaking to an Englishman, every so often something as simple as a dish of meatballs will cause someone to get all confused).
So I get to be cultural filter. Example: One of our Lt. Col.s (did I mention I was one of five people at this shindig who didn't have a commission?) asked on of their Col.s what he studied in college. I had to point out, later, that the system is different. Our officers join either in, or after, university. Their officers choose the career in their late teens and go to a military academy (with a branch specialty... the one near L'Viv is surveying/cartography, and journalism). They are in the academy for 5-6 years.
Victor asked me, as we walked home (well back to our quarters) from getting ice-cream, for him, and dinner for me (and it occurs to me, that this is part of why I like Russians... they live with gusto. Voctor wanted Ice Cream. Nothing else. We went out, looked at books, got him some ice cream and he was content. An American would have been looking for something fancy, or rustic, or quaint. He just wanted some decent ice cream), why I wasn't an officer. Explaining the differences in the system to him, was harder.
It was a nice week.
I had Friday all to myself (and an incipient cold) and wandered around Coronado. Ending the day at the Hotel Del, watching the sunset sinking into the sea, and the golden light on the white wood. My dinner was decent, but the prices demanded a level of service I didn't get. It started off well enough, but quickly petered out to just better than most hotels.
The weekend, was cut short. I got home (the trains were stopped, or I could have left on Friday, even Thus. night, had I been so inclined... but no, Thursday night I was taken to dinner by a man who tried to kick me out of the army, more than 10 years ago, and basked in the, personal, satisfaction, of his public praise and appreciation. I also got to send off the Ukrainians with toasts, and talk some Moral Philosophy, with a man who is going to be deployed, and is trying to reconcile his doubts with his duty. Thurs. was a night not to be missed), we went to Joshua Tree, and I went home again on Saturday, to nurse my cold.
To sleep, and drink, and eat a little, and sleep some more. It has been either a mild flu, or a rank cold. I am still not over it, though from the changes in my aches and pains I am (touch wood) finally on the mend.
