The translation profession can be very interesting. Especially when interpreting. I have such ridiculous and absurd incidents that I lose track of the details. You meet new people, there is always something new to learn, travel and explore the world. You are improving language and psychological skills… well, sweet job. The events and characters are quite real. Names are initialed for national security reasons… Ha ha, bullshit! It's just that the names are not important here, but the events. I don't know how many there were, I can't count to that many.
I haven't been to an interpreter recently, not of the type like in the stories. Banal things like going with a client to a bank, to a notary or to a doctor do not count. Look, it's interesting in the aftermath of First district. And they already know me there. However, every time we see K. or M 1 we remember at the same time how side by side we "saved the world", but instead of honor and respect, we received censure. And shall we meet with M.K. or G.K. we greet each other with a "long, white onion" and fondly remember Doña Cecilia and the long journey home.
By ear, on paper or by ear - you translate according to the circumstances
Simultaneous translation is not an easy job. Your brain is fried. Especially when you've never practiced it. The conference was starting in less than ten minutes when I was informed that I would be interpreting "in booths". What cabins, bro! I don't know which buttons to switch with. Well, I learned. Good thing I'm a smart girl, I catch on quickly. The conference was in Bulgaria, sister cities exchange waste collection experience. I had pre-filed information about who was going to talk about what. When the Italians spoke, I translated into Bulgarian, and the other translators from me – into English, Portuguese and Spanish. Then when the foreigners spoke, I translated from the other translators to the Italians. Total horror! I warned the Italians to speak slowly and not to fire like machine guns. They promised. Yes, but the first one forgot that I still have to breathe between words. I wanted to rip his throat off... but somehow I managed. The second, however, put my nervous system to the test. He turned out to be an ornithologist, they took him for a walk. The man played his presentation and began to explain what kinds of birds and bees there are in their area. Yes, but I'm not a rolling dictionary and I don't know the terminology in detail. I got to "and other types of mosquitoes and ladybugs" and stopped. However, it was impossible for him to speak and for me to remain silent... even though the main thing was understood from the film. I opened my preliminary notes and… he's showing mosquitoes and bugs, I'm blathering on about garbage trucks. The Bulgarians started turning to my cabin and smiling. At one point my English colleague knocked on the window of her cubicle and gave me a "Stop it a little bit, you talk like a sniper in attack" style hand signal. Apparently, while reading, I forgot that I am expected to speak very slowly, because I am supposed to be translating in sync. Good thing the mosquito story was over soon and we went on vacation. Our people took me for a ride, and I'm foaming like that faith that washes with one drop, but you poured half a bottle.
Vacation is over. I have already translated into Italian. After talking so much, my mouth was dry, but I didn't dare to drink much water because I had to run to the toilet. And from the lack of water I dried up completely, it was wetter in the Sahara than in my mouth. The translation was going well. The Spanish woman was speaking, when I noticed with astonishment and slight concern that the Italians had taken off their headphones and were not listening to me. I look at the buttons - they're fine, I'm on the right channel. I got out and with a quiet step, as if cannibals were stalking me, crept to the last row. Confused, I asked in a whisper what the problem was. "Ah, no problem," said the Italian, and continued to listen. No headphones. I pushed him again, asking why they removed them. Then, apparently understanding my concern, he smiled and enlightened me: they were from Sardinia, and their dialect is very close to Spanish, it was easier for them to listen directly than my translation through Bulgarian. It was a broken phone for me. I breathed a sigh of relief. "Go out and rest," he calls to me. I was tempted to jump outside for a cigarette time, but decided it would be rude. I sat back in the booth and had a good drink of water.
After the official part we went to have lunch. And of course I am at the table with the mayors. Who are football fans. And instead of eating like people, I translated opinions and impressions about the European and Italian derby. At some point, to my relief, they switched to English. And I quietly slipped away for a long vacation.
Dinner – in a private lounge where smoking was common. Nice, but I'm wearing makeup, and makeup and cigarette smoke are an explosive combination for my poor eyes. They soon started to tear up, but I translate most professionally... while others eat. Some delicacies passed through me, from some of them I managed to "chop" a mouthful, enough to bite them. My mom taught me that you don't talk with your mouth full. Even translating jokes. This also proved to be difficult work. A joke is a specific genre, sometimes it is almost impossible to convey the emotion in a foreign language. There were moments when the Bulgarians burst out laughing while one of them was telling, and the Italians cackled incomprehensibly, despite my persistent efforts to make them understand how funny it was. During this time I was already "roaring", from my eyes - a waterfall. At one point, the Italian across from me looks at me playfully and yells, "If I stop telling jokes, will you stop crying?" Everyone understood this even without translation.
Dinner is over. I got home at 11 p.m. and, starving, threw myself into the refrigerator. With my mouth full, contrary to my upbringing, I chewed and explained to my bewildered husband why I was coming home from dinner… hungry.
© 2024 Iliana Dechkova