May 30, 2002
I don't know what we both got, but it felt like dengue fever, because "you're not going to die from it, but you're going to wish you could". I woke up with a monster headache this morning, but the fever was finally gone. Yesterday afternoon was the lowest point: while translating as furiously as my faint limbs allowed I kept thinking to myself that the first thing I am going to do after I finish this file is check in at a hospital. Only I never got to finish that freaking long file.
One of the most annoying things of working with TRADOS is that you begin with page 1/30 and by the time you're coming to the home stretch it's page 43/53. TRADOS just blows up these monsters. So in the end I wrote to my dear Romanian agency owner and said, sorry I'm kaput, I need a deadline extension to which she agreed, gently adding the following recipe against the flu in her e-mail:
One of the best and easiest cures is drinking a rather large amount of clear fluids (water, tea, fruit juice, even clear chicken soup qualifies), so your body is obliged to flush out "the evil". "Large amount" is 3 liters a day and up. The teas of choice in this case are camomille, linden, echinacea, flu mixture.
Working for a person who sends you cures for the flu is such a treat. No wonder I give to this particular agency most of my availability and the best translations to my ability even when I am burning with fever and just want to crawl into a hole and sleep.
So now that my readership has been reassured about the Mermaidian family's health, I can move to lighter subjects, such as amputations on the Discovery Health Channel. What's up with that?! Well, I never watch much TV but I've been vegging out a lot in front of it lately (Dr. Mumford twice on HBO this morning and The Talented Mr. Ripley to boot) and I promise you that I saw a leg amputation case being broadcast. I don't know the details, but she seemed to be an African woman who stepped on a landmine and the doctor was breaking the news to her in front of the camera. "We're going to have to chop your leg off. Let me see how much residual bone will be left". Is that plain revolting or what?
One more thing before I close this entry. A letter which didn't come with the DNB (Do Not Blog) notice and which I found quite intriguing.
my name is NERTHUS which means the first mermaid. My mother's family have lived in an area of the Peak District in England, the centre of which is the Mermaid's Pool. She has been seen recently and truly does have long hair and blue eyes. I have long hair and blue eyes, do you think my parents had a strange sense of humour?
Answer: I think that hairstyles can be changed and even eye color, but the name you're given brings a heavy load of family mythology with it. Almost like anatomy, it can determine who you are. A name is a powerful thing.
May 27, 2002
In Brazil, when we want somebody to leave, we'll put a broom upside down behind the door. I'm feverish too and this is a luxury I can't afford right now. I need to be strong to nurture her back to health. To sit beside her holding her hand as we watch cartoons. To make a run to the drugstore, to check her temperature at night. I'm feeling immensely tired and irrationally scared that this fever will never go away. But it will.
The male nurse before giving her the injection made the sign of the cross over her body, this brought me some relief. She is my honey. In bad dreams, the sea swells up and takes her away from me, or sometimes the river current is too strong and carries her off along the eddies. I wake up terrified.
May 26, 2002
May 25, 2002
May 24, 2002
"Yoo hoo Big World! Ofrezco traducciones rápidas garabateadas del Geordie al Manchego Seco por sólo 0,0000000001 pesos bolivianos en sellos de correos usados por página. Interesados envíenme CV y HP, referencias a nivel Honoris Causa, pizza margarita y foto del gato. Los 10000 primeros recibirán un ejemplar de roca volcánica tamaño A3 ¡GRATIS! con la frase en jeroglíficos TRADUCE QUE ALGO QUEDA, GUAPA a todo color rosa y exculpida por el traductor con el pie izquierdo de su señora.
Clientes con menos de 34 años y un día ininterrumpidos de experiencia como cliente en tiendas de calzado y confección abstenerse (Imelda, tú no). Vamos, ni se les ocurra. Todo cliente deberá estar titulado en al menos dos ramas del árbol en la que se orine su perro. Todo aquél que me ofrezca mayores emolumentos por mis traducciones será denunciado a todos y cada uno de los miembros y miembras de PORÓZ.com y a mi sobrino que es abogado en un bufete del Bronx (mucho cuidado con él, pues a su vez tiene una cuñada camionera en Chicago, cuyo abuelo tiene una suegra veterana de la guerra de Cuba, ¿capisci?).
50% a pagar en la fecha de defunción del cliente, el otro 50% a la de su perro meón. Acepto todo tipo de sistemas de pago, menos cheque, transferencia o al contado. Todo cliente potencial deberá tener TRADOS, DEJA VU, PC, MAC, PALM, FREEHAND, ACROBAT, ENCICLOPEDIA CATALANA, ULTRALINGUA, PAGEMAKER, QUÉSÉYO y 30000000000000000000000 000000000000000000000000000000000000000 MBs de MEMORIA y DOS ABCESOS EN EL PARIETAL IZQUIERDO como mínimo.
¡TAXISTAS Y SECRETARIAS ABSTENERSE!
Interesados rellenen cualquier hoja usada de papel que encuentren en el servicio y envíenmelo corriendo a través de ese perro que no para de mearse, el muy can, ¡ya! a:
Paulie Panoli (MD, Bchi, OhAh, AhiVa, MLISRNRCIPHJOUDOSc)
PEE PEE KHAN TRANSTALATATIONS
Afiliado al QMQJA (QuéMásQuieresJulandrónAssociation)
- 20 años de experiencia como intérprete en el interior de celdas unisex de confinamiento para contrabandistas de traducciones literales en las principales cárceles tailandesas.
- 20 años de experiencia como corrector de lentillas.
- 20 años de experiencia en la localización de palabras inexistentes.
- 20 años de experiencia en la investigación de las raíces fino-úgricas de los cerezos en flor en una granja avícola de Denver CO.
- 20 años de experiencia intentando hacer funcionar el maldito TRADOS“.
- 2000 años de experiencia en la construcción de Arcas para el transporte de fauna armenia en peligro de extinción para la firma NOÉ, NOAH & PETS, CO.LTD.AMEN
- 20 años de experiencia en lo que tu me pidas, guapa.
NADIE DA TAN POCO POR TANTO… MONTA, MONTA TANTO EL CHINO COMO EL ESPERANTO
NO SE ARREPENTIRÁ…A NO SER QUE SEA CATÓLICO
UNA OPORTUNIDAD ÚNICA, ESTÚPIDO
SI ME LLAMA, ATÉNGASE A LAS CONSECUENCIAS
SI NO ME LLAMA, ATÉNGASE A LAS CONSECUENCIAS
SI ES CONSECUENTE, LLÁMEME AHORA, SI NO, LLÁMEME AYER.
Y SOBRE TODO, NI SE LES OCURRA ESCRIBIR MÉJICO CON JOTA"
May 22, 2002
Yesterday evening, I came home to staggering news of hamster rescue. Sueli, the live-in nanny (cultural note: it's common in Brazil and indispensable when you're a working single mom) also known as Swahili, while changing their food saw that one of the hamsters was missing from the cage and clever girl that she is took a peep inside the drain. Yes, there was the missing hamster, only she couldn't know for sure, so she elaborately made a string hook and pulled it up. It was Giggio all right, only dirty and wet and hungry and smelly and therefore irrecognizable for his sibling Toppo.
Moral of the story: Toppo got all territorial over the cage and wouldn't let Giggio come near the food or the water and before the crises developed in full-blown hamster fratricide, I made a run to the petstore and got another cage. I have no idea where I am going to put it though. My apartment already looks like crazy hybrid of Toys'R'Us and an overcrowded world-music and furniture store. Like the hamsters, I am thinking of renting a house nearby to move my office into and have my lovers come by in the best boudoir tradition. Only I don't have any lovers at the moment, so it's all pretty much wishful thinking, like my plans to go to Barcelona to study Spanish at the end of the year.
In spite of the hamster crises and the Blogger instabilities, good news still cheer me up. Three are the things brightening up my day: the Google Glossary, the news that B. is going to come to S.Paulo from Geneva in June and the news that the GET is back to his home wherever that may be. The Giant Jalapeno also promised that he is coming to see his daughter in June, but like St.Thomas said, seeing is believing. Skeptical is my middle name in matters concerning the GJ.
Google has made an experimental search interface for searching online glossaries, similar to News.Google, Images.Google , Groups.Google and other interfaces.
You can check it out at http://labs1.google.com/glossary
As far as I could tell, only English definitions are covered, type anything in another language and you will get zero results. But they provide a feedback button and a discussion forum, so there is a chance that if an overwhelming number of translators requests advanced language features they might include them in a new release.
I also tried general language words such as vexation and oxymoron and got no direct results to Merriam-Webster or other standard dictionaries, which would be a welcome addition.
This is exciting news for the translating community. I've always said that if I get a tatoo it will be a sailor's heart with Google splashed accross it.
May 21, 2002
Welcome to the Hairy Eyeball, a serio-satirical global Web log, written in the American vernacular and focused on the death of irony and the war on terror as viewed from the borough of Brooklyn, whence we receive dispatches from contributors from around the alleged globe. Alexander Pope canonized old Quintilian as the patron saint of the kind of war we propose to fight here in his Essay on Criticism:
In grave Quintilian's copious Work we find
The justest Rules, and clearest Method join'd;
Thus useful Arms in Magazines we place,
All rang'd in Order, and dispos'd with Grace,
But less to please the Eye, than arm the Hand,
Still fit for Use, and ready at Command.
As President Bush said, this war on terror will force us to associate with some unsavory people—so, too, in the war of words on the war on terror: Pick up whatever word is handy and bludgeon something stupid with it. You could even say that the Web log as a genre is satirical in its very essence—much as a Web site, with its hyperlinks, is the post-Gutenberg congener of the commonplace book, a collection of loci communi or "common sites." Consider the origins of the term:
The etymology and history of satire are as mixed up as the stuffed sausage from which it may have received its name. Even those who wrote it used other terms. Horace called his satires sermones ("talk") and Juvenal called his farrago ("stuffing"). However, these glimpses of daily life, mixed with wit, invective, and obscenity, formed a recognized genre and source of pride for the Romans in that they could claim it as their own: Satura quidem tota nostra est [Quintilian, Institutio Oratoria 10.1.93].
Other etymons, according to our offhand research, include a specious derivation from the Greek satyr—a half-man half-beast noted for its unbridled sexual appetites, since so-called Menippean satire was a mix of prose and verse—and the according to some more philologically plausible Latin satura or "salad"—a bunch of stuff fresh from whatever's in the market that day, cut into roughly uniform chunks, with oily unction and piss and vinegar superadded.
The 1911 Encyclopedia Britannica, in austere Anglo-Aristotelian fashion, has this to say: "Satire, in its literary aspect, may be defined as the expression in adequate terms of the sense of amusement or disgust excited by the ridiculous or unseemly, provided that humour is a distinctly recognizable element, and that the utterance is invested with literary form ..." Aw, fuck literary form and adequate expression: let's settle for "glimpses of daily life, mixed with wit, invective, and obscenity," in 400 words or less, and addressed to our editorial board, and honi soit qui mal y pense.
A mermaidesque, angel-in-the-house recommendation, Tangerine, try not to offend Greeks, Trojans, Liberals and Mahometans, although I fear you will...in your capacity of equal opportunity offender and subgenius. Now go read the original entry for some wholesome clickety-click.
May 20, 2002
Translation is the paradigm, the exemplar of all writing.... It is translation that demonstrates most vividly the yearning for transformation that underlies every act involving speech, that supremely human gift.
Harry Mathews (b. 1930), U.S. novelist. “The Dialect of the Tribe,” Country Cooking and Other Stories (1980).
Translation is entirely mysterious. Increasingly I have felt that the art of writing is itself translating, or more like translating than it is like anything else. What is the other text, the original? I have no answer. I suppose it is the source, the deep sea where ideas swim, and one catches them in nets of words and swings them shining into the boat ... where in this metaphor they die and get canned and eaten in sandwiches.
Ursula K. Le Guin (b. 1929), U.S. author. Address, 1983, in Poetry Series, Folger Shakespeare Library, Washington, D.C.. “Reciprocity of Prose and Poetry,” published in Dancing at the Edge of the World (1989).
Any translation which intends to perform a transmitting function cannot transmit anything but information—hence, something inessential. This is the hallmark of bad translations.
Walter Benjamin (1892–1940), German critic, philosopher. “The Task of the Translator,” Illuminations (1955, ed. by Hannah Arendt, 1968)
Poetry is what is lost in translation.
Robert Frost (1874–1963), U.S. poet. Quoted in Robert Frost: a Backward Look, ch. 1, Louis Untermeyer (1964).
The best thing on translation was said by Cervantes: translation is the other side of a tapestry.
Leonardo Sciascia (1921–1989), Italian writer. Guardian (London, Aug. 5, 1988).
'A translation is no translation,' he said, 'unless it will give you the music of a poem along with the words of it.'
John Millington Synge, Irish playwright. (1871 - 1909) The Aran Islands ( (1907)) pt. 3
The vanity of translation; it were as wise to cast a violet into a crucible that you might discover the formal principle of its colour and odour, as seek to transfuse from one language to another the creations of a poet. The plant must spring again from its seed, or it will bear no flower.
Percy Bysshe Shelley, English poet (1792 - 1822), A Defence of Poetry (written (1821))
Humour is the first of the gifts to perish in a foreign tongue.
Virginia Woolf (1882 - 1941), British novelist. The Common Reader, 1925
An idea does not pass from one language to another without change.
Miguel de Unamuno y Jugo (1864 - 1936) Spanish writer. The Tragic Sense of Life, 1913
The original is unfaithful to the translation.
Jorge Luis Borges (1899 - 1986) Argentinian writer. Referring to Henley's translation of Beckford's Vathek. Sobre el `Vathek' de William Beckford
Translate beautifully or be replaced by a machine.
Josh Wallace, translator, at Lantra-L
(to be continued...)
You can find general information about each language, the area or country where it is spoken as a minority language ; and listen to a poem in the language. They have a page for Judeo-Spanish, neat.
May 19, 2002
May 18, 2002
"'Life is a hospital in which every patient is obsessed with changing beds. This one wants to suffer in front of the radiator, and that one thinks he'd get better if he was by the window.' Baudelaire was, nevertheless, unashamed to count himself among the patients. 'It always seems to me that I will be well where I am not and this question of moving is one that I'm forever entertaining with my soul. Sometimes Baudelaire dreamt of going to Lisbon. It would be warm there and he would like a lizard gain strength from stretching himself in the sun. It was a city of water, marble and light, conducive to thought and calm. But almost from the moment he conceived of this Portuguese fantasy, he would start to wonder if he might not be happier in Holland. Then again, why not Java or else the Baltic or even the North Pole, where he could bathe in the shadows and watch comets fly across the Arctic skies? The destination was not really the point. The true desire was to get away, to go, as he concluded 'Anywhere! Anywhere! So long as it is out of the world!"
But he was aware of the difficulties. Baudelaire once had left the leaden skies of France embarking on a journey to India. Three months into the sea crossing, the ship ran into a storm and landed in Mauritius for repairs. "It was the lush, palm fringed island that Baudelaire had dreamt off. But he could not shake off a feeling of lethargy and suspected and began suspecting that India would be no better. Despite efforts by the captain to persuade him otherwise, he insisted on sailing back to France."
Update: three translations of poems about travel by Baudelaire.
May 17, 2002
Don't miss Leni Riefenstahl's bio annotated with links.
May 16, 2002
"One wet Thursday, as it were, many years ago, I decided to give a group of students a piece writing in Italian and English. They had to decide which language was the original, which the translation. It was an odd piece and they soon found the four or five places where the texts were different. They opted for the Italian, which seemed all proper and correct. The English was bizarre to say the least. It included the expression 'he shut himself together.' It was D.H. Lawrence.
I was fascinated. Infallibly, by finding where translation differed from original, students whose English was far from perfect were able to identify those places where a writer diverged from standard usage. The reason is evident enough. While it's fairly easy to translate content and standard mannerisms, when the meaning of a text lies in the distance between itself and what the reader expected, then it is difficult for translator to follow. Looking at all the ways a translation differs from its original, you can begin to get a good sense of how a writer worked and what his particular take on language and indeed life was. Because for each author who has anything interesting to say, the problems are always different. That's what this book is about."
While browsing the Biblioteca Nacional website, I also discover an online version of the Dicionário Cravo Albin da MPB, a wide selection of Brazilian classics in electronic format and a Brazilian writers biography database. Good finds on an insomniac night.
May 15, 2002
via the totemic paganist aka blind tangerine
May 14, 2002
I'll post it here cause I want to read it later. Have to go home now because the FTP server automatically erased the files I am supposed to be translating. Serves me right for being a procastinatress. Self-reminder: must not forget dongle, must not forget dongle.
Down with the social reality, dressed up and oppresive, registered by Freud - we are for the complex-free reality of the Pindorama matriarchy, free from madness, prostitution and jails.
The Alphabet versus the Goddess, another book cluttering my nightstand, makes some controversial claims about the decline of goddesses and the development of societies based on the written text, that I take with a whole handful of salt. Becoming a mother turned my life upside down. I'm not sure I would go for a second run at it. Suave es La Noche is celebrating the birth of a baby girl, which immediately fills me up with joy while making me think of the disturbing story Big Milk.
A world where senior citizen Dionne Warwick gets busted for smoking pot is the very antithesis of Pindorama. This entry is lacking in logic but I will post it anyway.
May 13, 2002
Mersurgeon General's Warning: Please refrain from Attitudes Passionelles. If you can resist, adopt them with moderation and be sure get a good shrink and/or pills
The ode to the Magellanic Penguin is quite magnificent. It reminds me of my brief encounters with this commoner of antarctica icy landscapes. They bite hard.
Update: Many thanks to Prentiss Riddle for finding Neruda's Cavallero Solo translated by José Paulo Paes.
Update 2: I went to Livraria Cultura this afternoon and couldn't resist buying a paperback Pablo Neruda anthology, where the formerly elusive poem is printed. I transcribe it here because the Web can't do without such a poem in its original language.
by Pablo Neruda
Los jóvenes homosexuales y las muchachas amorosas,
y las largas viudas que sufren el delirante insomnio,
y las jóvenes señoras preñadas hace treinta horas,
y los roncos gatos que cryzan mi jardín en tinieblas,
como un collar de palpitantes ostras sexuales,
rodean mi residencia solitaria,
como enemigos establecidos contra mi alma,
como consipiradores en traje de dormitorio
que cambiaran largos besos espesos por consigna.
El radiante verano conduce a los enamorados
en uniformes regimientos melancólicos,
hechos de gordas y flacas y alegres y tristes parejas:
bajo los elegantes cocoteros, junto al oceáno y la luna,
hay una continua vida de pantalones y polleras,
un rumor de medias de seda acariciadas,
y senos femeninos que brillan como ojos
El pequeño empleado, después de mucho,
después del tedio semanal, y las novelas leídas de noche en cama
ha definitivamente seducido a su vecina,
y la lleva a los miserables cinematógrafos
donde los héroes son potros o príncipes apasionados,
y acaricia sus piernas llenas de dulce vello
con sus ardientes y húmedas manos que huelen a cigarillo.
Los atardeceres del seductor y las noches de los esposos
se unen como dos sábanas sepultándome,
y las horas después del almuerzo en que los jóvenes estudiantes
y las jóvenes estudiantas, y los sacerdotes se masturban,
y los animales fornican directamente,
y las abejas huelen a sangre, y las moscas zumban coléricas,
y los primos juegan extrañamente con sus primas,
y los médicos miran con furia al marido de la joven paciente,
y las horas de la mañana en que el profesor, como por descuido,
cumple con su deber conyugal y desayuna
y más aún, los adúlteros, que se aman con verdadero amor
sobre lechos altos y largos como embarcaciones:
seguramente, eternamente me rodea
este gran bosque respiratorio y enredado
con grandes flores como bocas y dentaduras
y negras raíces en la forma de uñas y zapatos.
I HAVE begun on a work which is without precedent, whose accomplishment will have no imitator. I propose to set before my fellow-mortals a man in all the truth of nature; and this man shall be myself.
I have studied mankind and know my heart; I am not made like any one I have been acquainted with, perhaps like no one in existence; if not better, I at least claim originality, and whether Nature has acted rightly or wrongly in destroying the mold in which she cast me, can only be decided after I have been read.
I've been feeling sick as a dog lately. I won't go into the medicalities, but it's related to a surgical-like intervention. I'm running just a little late with my browser localization, dogdamnit. And I had to decline an invitation to put my voice to the service of the ILO on account of feeling so ill. I also receive news from the Green Eyed Temptation. He's made it to a little coastal town in Italia and hasn't checked his e-mail in two weeks. He is also afraid he will have to go back to the US soon, he is more full of mysteries than an enigmatic mermaid. Mother's Day came and went and I couldn't eat anything at all. Plep has noticed me, I feel almost as flattered as I feel sick, and there is probably no prayer for my kind of maladie.
Keyword online translation has been bringing lots of visitors. My advice is hire a human translator.
May 12, 2002
The Korean translation of "president" is daetongnyeong, "supreme leader," to which is affixed "great." So the governance of a country whose sovereignty rests with the people is under "great supreme leadership." The presidential system originated in the United States, and daetongnyeong was adopted as a translation of the word "president" into Chinese, but the reverse translation would not be "president."
Asian countries began translating Western thinking and ideas in the middle of the 19th century. Translation of the word "president" into "great supreme leader" in Chinese characters first appeared in the written Treaty of Kanagawa between Japan and the United States in 1854.
In 1844, however, the Qing Dynasty used Chinese characters whose pronunciation was similar to that of the word "president" in English.
Korea also used the same transliteration for "president," starting in 1876, with the signing of the Treaty of Ganghwa, a one-sided pact between the Joseon Dynasty and Japan. The use of the Chinese transliteration was in official documents until 1901.
Linsho Miskuri, who translated many English legal terms into Chinese characters, first translated "president" into the Chinese characters for daetongnyeong in his 1873 publication on the French constitution, drafted in 1791, and other constitutions legislated during this revolutionary period. Afterward, King Gojong of Joseon Dynasty used "daetongnyeong" when he was briefed by Hong Yeong-sik, on his return from his sojourn to the United States.
The United States also used the Chinese characters for daetongnyeong in diplomatic papers it sent to King Gojong in 1895. Yu Gil-jun, one of the late Joseon Dynasty scholars who advocated a selective acceptance of Western ways, said in his book "Seoyugyeonmun," published in 1895, that the leader of the United States, where people exercise sovereignty, is not a king but a "daetongnyeong." Seoyugyeonmun is the account of the scholar's experience in the United States and introduces Western customs. "Daetong-nyeong" appears in the constitution legislated in September 1919 by the Korean Provisional Government established in Shanghai. The constitution states that Korea shall be under a presidential system.
The power of words greatly influences people's thinking. Language is the vehicle through which the packaging and distribution of ideas is made. Those who seek to overhaul society try to gain hegemony of language to control ideas. Sometimes words are distorted from their true meaning.
In Korea, the original meaning of "president" has been bleached due to the slow progress of political awareness of the people. In a constitutional democracy the president is of the same rank as the president of the Constitutional Court, the speaker of the legislature and the chief justice, and represents the nation overseas. But in Korea, the president is as the Chinese characters denote: the "great supreme leader."
The former Korean presidents seemed to regard themselves as supreme leaders, misusing the right to grant parole as soon as they were sworn in. They committed the mistakes of not listening to advice and trying to tailor the thoughts of people and intellectuals for their purposes. The reason all our former presidents have been regarded as "failed" presidents is that they have taken the wrong path, which inevitably led to their doom.
The people also harbor the misunderstanding that the president has a free hand in almost everything. Therefore, all the people are desperate over the result of presidential elections.
Intellectuals and experts do not try to persuade the people, they appeal to the president. The police, prosecutors and the court, who should monitor social order by enforcing laws, wait for the decision of the president instead of following legal protocol. That the president is omnipotent is an anachronistic way of thinking. The constitution of Korea does not allow the president to exercise such power.
The press uses the term daegweon, which literally means great power, to address the president. We must amend the meaning of the word "president" to emphasize "servant of the people" before we hold another presidential election."
May 10, 2002
May 8, 2002
Blade Runner Waltz
Em mil novecentos e oitenta e sempre,
ah que tempos aqueles,
dançamos ao luar, ao som da valsa
A Perfeição do Amor através da Dor e da Renúncia,
nome, confesso, um pouco longo,
mas os tempos, aquele tempo,
ah, não se faz mais tempo
Aquilo sim é que eram horas,
dias enormes, semanas anos, minutos milênios,
e toda aquela fortuna em tempo
a gente gastava em bobagens,
amar, sonhar, dançar ao som da valsa,
aquelas falsas valsas de tão imenso nome lento
que a gente dançava em algum setembro
daqueles mil e novecentos de oitenta e sempre
More Leminski in Portuguese and in some Spanish translations by Rodolfo Mata.
May 7, 2002
According to Häilä the "mistakes" are just a marginal area, which should be discussed with a slightly different approach.
Reluctantly Häilä gives an example of such a mistake he recently discovered in a book he'd been reading.
"In Zadie Smith's White Teeth there is a passage where the author colourfully describes gloomy railway yards, dilapidated buildings, littered alleys, and - rather surprisingly - grease-covered spoons. Well, the translator had failed to grasp that the "greasy spoons" in this context referred to cheap and nasty restaurants instead of unwashed cutlery." (Read more)
A quick glance of best-seller lists in major cities around the world reveals that many of the most popular titles are translations from foreign languages. (Read more)
'Estaremos siempre al lado del gobierno....porque si vamos adelante nos coje, y si vamos detrás nos caga.'
'Basta ya de realidades, queremos promesas.'
'La patria dejará de ser colonia o moriremos todos perfumados.'
'La deuda que le estoy dejando al país no es externa, es eterna.' Menem.
'Las inundaciones no se producen porque los ríos crecen, sino porque el país se hunde.'
'Algunos nacen con suerte, otros en Argentina.'
'Este gobierno es como un bikini, nadie sabe como se sostiene pero todos quieren que se caiga.'
'Las putas al poder, porque con los hijos, no nos fue bien'
Scope creep: When a project continues to grow after the contract has been signed. In the end, the vendor does more work than it gets paid for.
Sounds very familiar...
May 6, 2002
Wondrous Woodcuts. "First published in Germany in 1925 The City is a portrait of urban Europe between the wars, told in one hundred woodcuts of exceptional force and beauty. Frans Masereel portrays parks and factories, shipyards and brothels, crowds, lovers, and lonely individuals with remarkable subtlety and nuance while exploiting the stark contrast of the woodcut medium."
via the always intriguing gmtplus9
Illustration: lemons and chili peppers.
Text: India- Wards off evil;
Mexico- Wards off Hunger.
Headline- Never underestimate the importance of local knowledge
Tagline: HSBC, the world's local bank
Maybe it's just a half-hearted attempt by a megacorporation to seem less intent on destroying local identities with their big bucks and monolithic business cultures. Notwithstanding the ideological patrolling of my own psyche, what I like about this campaign is that it is the advertising equivalent of a cultural consulting assignment.
There was a great design site aeons ago, with multicultural superstitions, proverbs, body language, alas the Web is now too crowded, sometimes I can't find a thing. Listening to Gypsy Bugaloo and sipping a cappucino on this cool autumn night can right almost every wrong in my tiny bubble of a world, however.
On the plane back, she threw one of her tantrums when it was time to fasten the seatbelt. Why can't I be more like Valentina's and Tommy's mother, who simply says It's the law! Buckle up!. I suspect that the Merchild is getting a little claustrophobic, she can't stand closed doors either. At least this time the stewardesses were not pointing to me and whispering as we left the plane like those two bitches in San Francisco International.
Good news on the business front, just as my interpreting assignments begin to slow down, my favorite project manager assigns me a localization project that is going to keep me busy and happy until July. I love to localize software and this one is a popular browser, very filet mignon. Cool. I may be also getting some radiation therapy equipment manuals in between, which I doesn't make me as giddily happy as software localization, but what the hell, I've been dealing with depleted uranium, gantries and linear accelerators for almost three years. I know the drill: the more technical and ungainly the subject, the better the pay.
Blind Tangerine is engaged in a bovine discussion on the anatomical specificities of auroch, the wisent and the bison of Lithuania. Little does he know that animal and vegetable names are puddles of quicksand. Especially when Germans, Poles, Belarussians, Iorubans and Baianos, Greeks and Trojans, everybody zeals for their symbols of national or regional identity, be it the almighty zubr or the starchy aipim. And I quote:
"Os iorubanos, devotos do inhame, não podem conceber como o milho e a mandioca sejam plantas importadas d’Améria, deduzindo do uso antigo e tão velha predileção consumidora, anotou Pierre Gourou."
May 3, 2002
back on Monday...
May 1, 2002
So read between the lines for that anti-American sentiment seeping through. Among other things, Dr. Tariq says that "American Africans (sic) although they do have distinguishing cultural features and speak Ebonics, they look like imitation products of American Western culture. They lack cultural authenticity." Oh pleeaaase!
Metablogging note: I find myself thinking about "A Agulha e a Linha", a short fable by Machado de Assis. I hope that by posting this, I am not acting as a needle for a lowly thread.