Post by Deleted on Nov 28, 2014 12:50:49 GMT 1
Part 1
It was 1991 and I had moved over to the Corporate Jets Division of BAe. My boss called me into his office one Monday morning and said “Sit down - would you like some coffee?” so I knew I wasn't in trouble at least
. After the coffee had been poured, he said, “You know Russia, don't you ? I've got a job for you; we've got a new agent I'd like you to look at. How soon can you go to Moscow?” It was like a scene from a James Bond movie. The wall had come down, and Russia was suddenly the centre of attention and I didn't need to visit Gypsy Rose Lee to foresee travel to foreign parts!
And so it was to Russia I flew - with brochures. With the help of the Russian and British embassies, we had identified a newly-formed company at Moscow's Sheremetyevo airport who were willing, and it seemed, able, to help us. They were about to launch an air taxi service, using a leased-in 125-700, for which we first had to get certification. Eventually, this was done, (RA 02801 c/n 257097). and in the meantime a lot of interest had evolved, so it was all systems go. I had initially looked only at Russia as a future market, but it became apparent that there were other interested countries, too. On one visit, the agent asked me to prepare for a visit to Turkmenistan next time we were there, because they were interested in one of the new -1000 series. The first thing I did when I was back at Hatfield was to get the map out to see where Turkmenistan was! After a few phone calls and a few faxes (remember them?), the visit was set up. We were to fly to Moscow, meet up with the agent, and then fly on to Ashkabad (as it was then known). We arrived in Moscow early one evening, joined the inevitable one-hour queue for immigration and KGB check and then just round the corner to the Novotel, and a room with an excellent view of the apron.
The following morning we were collected from the hotel and taken to the agent's office, which was in a hangar on the other side of the airfield. Initially, I had assumed we were there for a briefing, and then to catch the Aeroflot flight from Terminal 1 (the domestic terminal) but it transpired that we were flying direct from the office – in an IL-18! But this was no ordinary IL-18 - it was an IL-18D - CCCP 75449 to be precise. It belonged to a company called GosNiiGa which until a few months previously had been the state research organisation and regularly flew to Antarctica, so we made a mental note to keep an eye on the landscape after we took off! The aircraft was full of equipment, but there was a sort of 'lounge' area towards the rear of the fuselage and this was to be our home for the next four hours as we droned down to Ashkabad. The fact that it had a magnetometer unit underneath made it look like a bomber, which amused all concerned, but meant that its cruising speed was a bit slower.
On reaching Ashkabad, it was clear that nothing had changed from the old days. The hotel was pure Soviet-era, and their system was still in place at reception, too. Hand in your passport and you're given a release note to go to a particular floor. On each floor is a large table behind which is a woman with a face like a bulldog chewing a wasp. I was not to be put off by this however, because previous experience had taught me that these were the most important people in the hotel. A few bars of chocolate and/or some perfume and the world was at your feet. I will explain more later. In the meantime small rooms, single beds, a TV that looked as if it had been made by John Logie Baird and a shower that produced water which looked like Brown Windsor soup. Thankfully, the only time we ate in the hotel was at breakfast; it was continental style, with bread and assorted meats and cheeses on trays. However, the local flies were well aware of this and had easy access via the open windows. We were convinced that they actually went into a holding pattern once the food had appeared. Only tea without milk was available in those strange cups without handles – at least we assume they had never had handles – perhaps they'd just broken off! We never did find one which didn't have a crack in it.
Anyway, back to the aviation theme. The following day, we had a meeting with the Oil and Gas Ministry, who were the nominal purchasers of the aircraft, though it was to be used by the President's Office. The Oil and Gas Ministry was the most powerful organisation in the country, simply because it made so much money. Turkmenistan is the fourth-largest supplier of natural gas in the world. It was run by the vice-president of the country and it was into his office we were shown. The usual pleasantries took place and we began the discussion. The VP was actually Russian, and didn't speak any English but the agent had brought two excellent interpreters with us from Moscow. After the general discussions, we got down to the question of price. A guy who was clearly the CFO, since he had the largest calculator I've ever seen, pumped the numbers into it and said to the VP “That's about 3 hours gas supply.” I don't speak fluent Russian but I knew enough to understand that. It became apparent that this was the way they calculated everything, since they'd been tied to an unconvertible rouble for so long and at that point did not have a currency of their own. However, the calculations assumed greater significance when it became apparent that what they wanted to do was sell us a quantity of gas equivalent to the deal. This is not unusual, and is known as counter-trade, but often it becomes enormously complicated. We finished the meeting and went back to the hotel to consider our options. We tried to send a telex back to the UK to alert them, but it wasn't possible, because they couldn't use it for international traffic. There was only one phone in the whole hotel; international calls were limited and had to be booked six hours in advance. This was to prove very frustrating, as I shall describe later.
If this was to appear anywhere near the UK these days, it would probably be shot down! The 'four-engined bomber' which took us down to Ashkabad.
It was 1991 and I had moved over to the Corporate Jets Division of BAe. My boss called me into his office one Monday morning and said “Sit down - would you like some coffee?” so I knew I wasn't in trouble at least
. After the coffee had been poured, he said, “You know Russia, don't you ? I've got a job for you; we've got a new agent I'd like you to look at. How soon can you go to Moscow?” It was like a scene from a James Bond movie. The wall had come down, and Russia was suddenly the centre of attention and I didn't need to visit Gypsy Rose Lee to foresee travel to foreign parts! And so it was to Russia I flew - with brochures. With the help of the Russian and British embassies, we had identified a newly-formed company at Moscow's Sheremetyevo airport who were willing, and it seemed, able, to help us. They were about to launch an air taxi service, using a leased-in 125-700, for which we first had to get certification. Eventually, this was done, (RA 02801 c/n 257097). and in the meantime a lot of interest had evolved, so it was all systems go. I had initially looked only at Russia as a future market, but it became apparent that there were other interested countries, too. On one visit, the agent asked me to prepare for a visit to Turkmenistan next time we were there, because they were interested in one of the new -1000 series. The first thing I did when I was back at Hatfield was to get the map out to see where Turkmenistan was! After a few phone calls and a few faxes (remember them?), the visit was set up. We were to fly to Moscow, meet up with the agent, and then fly on to Ashkabad (as it was then known). We arrived in Moscow early one evening, joined the inevitable one-hour queue for immigration and KGB check and then just round the corner to the Novotel, and a room with an excellent view of the apron.
The following morning we were collected from the hotel and taken to the agent's office, which was in a hangar on the other side of the airfield. Initially, I had assumed we were there for a briefing, and then to catch the Aeroflot flight from Terminal 1 (the domestic terminal) but it transpired that we were flying direct from the office – in an IL-18! But this was no ordinary IL-18 - it was an IL-18D - CCCP 75449 to be precise. It belonged to a company called GosNiiGa which until a few months previously had been the state research organisation and regularly flew to Antarctica, so we made a mental note to keep an eye on the landscape after we took off! The aircraft was full of equipment, but there was a sort of 'lounge' area towards the rear of the fuselage and this was to be our home for the next four hours as we droned down to Ashkabad. The fact that it had a magnetometer unit underneath made it look like a bomber, which amused all concerned, but meant that its cruising speed was a bit slower.
On reaching Ashkabad, it was clear that nothing had changed from the old days. The hotel was pure Soviet-era, and their system was still in place at reception, too. Hand in your passport and you're given a release note to go to a particular floor. On each floor is a large table behind which is a woman with a face like a bulldog chewing a wasp. I was not to be put off by this however, because previous experience had taught me that these were the most important people in the hotel. A few bars of chocolate and/or some perfume and the world was at your feet. I will explain more later. In the meantime small rooms, single beds, a TV that looked as if it had been made by John Logie Baird and a shower that produced water which looked like Brown Windsor soup. Thankfully, the only time we ate in the hotel was at breakfast; it was continental style, with bread and assorted meats and cheeses on trays. However, the local flies were well aware of this and had easy access via the open windows. We were convinced that they actually went into a holding pattern once the food had appeared. Only tea without milk was available in those strange cups without handles – at least we assume they had never had handles – perhaps they'd just broken off! We never did find one which didn't have a crack in it.
Anyway, back to the aviation theme. The following day, we had a meeting with the Oil and Gas Ministry, who were the nominal purchasers of the aircraft, though it was to be used by the President's Office. The Oil and Gas Ministry was the most powerful organisation in the country, simply because it made so much money. Turkmenistan is the fourth-largest supplier of natural gas in the world. It was run by the vice-president of the country and it was into his office we were shown. The usual pleasantries took place and we began the discussion. The VP was actually Russian, and didn't speak any English but the agent had brought two excellent interpreters with us from Moscow. After the general discussions, we got down to the question of price. A guy who was clearly the CFO, since he had the largest calculator I've ever seen, pumped the numbers into it and said to the VP “That's about 3 hours gas supply.” I don't speak fluent Russian but I knew enough to understand that. It became apparent that this was the way they calculated everything, since they'd been tied to an unconvertible rouble for so long and at that point did not have a currency of their own. However, the calculations assumed greater significance when it became apparent that what they wanted to do was sell us a quantity of gas equivalent to the deal. This is not unusual, and is known as counter-trade, but often it becomes enormously complicated. We finished the meeting and went back to the hotel to consider our options. We tried to send a telex back to the UK to alert them, but it wasn't possible, because they couldn't use it for international traffic. There was only one phone in the whole hotel; international calls were limited and had to be booked six hours in advance. This was to prove very frustrating, as I shall describe later.
If this was to appear anywhere near the UK these days, it would probably be shot down! The 'four-engined bomber' which took us down to Ashkabad.
