So this conference. I believe I got invited accidentally. The former chair of my department, one of the esteemed and world renowned professors, happens to sit in our division, in the office across the hall from me. He happens to know this amazing woman, the queen of russian gynecology. I also happen to speak Russian. The combination of these things is what brought me here, on a whim, as an invitation from the queen, but really because of my boss. My presence at the conference, although entirely coincidental, is quite astonishing though. The conference has not started yet. but last night, as the prelude, but as a guest and escort of my boss', i was invited to pre-conference dinner for the esteemed speakers, which sort of left me feeling like a kid at the adult table, who is sent to bed early but wakes up and comes downstairs because of the noise, and is allowed to stay, quietly, to avoid a scene. So i guess we should start at the beginning.
The hotel. It is old and historic. If you walk out the door, to the right is the Bolshoi, to the left is the Kremlin. The parking lot literally abuts its outside wall. In addition to many famous people staying here throughout the years, in 1918, immediately following the October revolution, the new Soviet government occupied the building when they moved to Moscow from St. Petersburg. During the Soviet era, this was an international hotel, a currency hotel, which meant that you can exchange foreign currency here, but more importantly, buy things with foreign currency and things that you would not buy anywhere else in the country. The halls of the hotel are tiny mazes of persian rugs and mirrored halls, giving it a feel of an old theater or concert hall rather than hotel. The rooms are tiny, like really tiny, but covered in this beautiful textured wallpaper. There are condoms in the minibar.
The conference. This is the 38th international conference on gynecology. Last night, amidst many (many) toasts, the people present discussed meeting for the first time in 1991. That long ago. It has been held in Moscow since that first time, when it was commissioned by the party (the Soviet party for those who are not following). At the time, apparently, every representative of the regional (or district) Ob/GYN had to be present, in addition to many international delegates, and the idea was that forcing all these physicians to attend a conference would propagate knowledge and skill exchange. not sure how much it propagated as the Soviet Union collapsed later that year, but the conference, i guess, stuck.
The food. The dinner at the hotel restaurant was organized specifically for us. large table is set in the back in this beautifully decorated dining room, complete with chandeliers and ceilings paintings ala old italian mansions. the room is small and there are a few other tables that are occupied but we definitely occupy the large portion of the restaurant. the table is set with ou d'orves (somebody spell it for me). the wine keeps flowing throughout the night, with waiters refilling half empty glasses. champaigne toasts, well-aged italian red. "would you like the beef or the cod as your entree" "oohh, neither, can you make something without meat or fish?" "no....well, we can maybe make truffle risotto" "that sounds fantastic!" the truffle risotto was tasty. definitely not risotto though, but mushroom barley, definitely definitely just barley.
The people. Mind you, I am being paraded as my boss' protege for lack of a better word, meaning I am introduced to everyone, and the people I am introduced to are amazing. I get kisses from the queen (both cheeks). warm handshakes and curious looks from other speakers (because I clearly do no belong). you may have heard from the news of this guy who transplanted a uterus last year? yeah, met him last night, sat at the same table with him. his wife is flawless. the first frenchman was rude, the second one walks in and my boss goes: "Oh Jacques, meet Alex Golobof. She is..." "Oh mon cheri..(hugs and kisses (that's multiple) follow)..she is a...??" "...She is my fellow!" "Oh....well, she is beautiful." #nothis daughter. and by the way, this man happens to be the father of hysteroscopy. the world renown laparascopic surgeon is a short italian, who sits down and begins raving about 'his small little vineyard in Tuscany that just won 95 out of 100 points for this season's wine.' you know, NBG. and toast after toast, the dinner party speaks warmly and highly of each other, of their friendship and their professional respect. year after year, for twenty something years these people have been coming together for conferences and scientific meetings. they know each and each others' work. they address each other in multiple languages, they speak highly of each others' accomplishments. i'll just sit here quietly in the corner, then.
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