A final dinner with the whole gang at an Azerbaijani restaurant. It was so good with so many courses and so much pomegranite and Georgian wine that we actually forewent the conference’s hyped disco-bowling-a-go-go party.
There were also some special surprises:
I’ll avoid telling you about how we barely escaped with our lives after winning a few hundred American Buckolas playing Russian Poker at the seedy hotel casino. What happens in the Ukraine stays in Ukraine. (I think Stalin came up with that slogan.)