Right now I am working on the following - a book where the storyline features a dog that gets separated from his owner (I can get really emotional even just thinking about it - I guess that's what happens when you treat your own dog like one of the most important person in your life), a web-site for a medical center, and a description of an indoor fussball table.
I cannot complain that my work is dull or unvaried.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Monday, March 12, 2012
Nothing Can Snap You out of Your Translation-induced Flow Quite Like a Big Ol' Tarantula
Getting my first ever assignment interestingly coincided with my first trip to Ecuador. Timing can be that funny sometimes.
Spending most of our time looking for primary rainforests (for a photo-project) meant that we left civilization (and its Discontents) far behind. What we also left behind was a reliable source of electricity, so I had to work by candlelight and use the well-established translation method of the last few centuries: taking a piece of paper, a pen (or pencil) and rely on my own vocabulary. Which of course had its advantages (not wasting hours on the net trying to find a better synonym for like "depression" or whatever) and its drawbacks (when you have a brain-freeze, and cannot think of the Hungarian word for like "wispy" or "recoil").
As I was sitting on the floor of a small cabin, contemplating how to put it best in Hungarian that "Attraversiamo - It means, Let's cross over", (keljünk át? menjünk át? vágjunk át?) I suddenly heard a rustling noise. The plastic bag lying next to me started to move a little bit, and after some more rustling a hairy, black tarantula poked his (or her) head out. He then comfortably crossed the room - checking out some of our bags in its way - then left through the door.
Close Encounters of a Great Kind.
Spending most of our time looking for primary rainforests (for a photo-project) meant that we left civilization (and its Discontents) far behind. What we also left behind was a reliable source of electricity, so I had to work by candlelight and use the well-established translation method of the last few centuries: taking a piece of paper, a pen (or pencil) and rely on my own vocabulary. Which of course had its advantages (not wasting hours on the net trying to find a better synonym for like "depression" or whatever) and its drawbacks (when you have a brain-freeze, and cannot think of the Hungarian word for like "wispy" or "recoil").
As I was sitting on the floor of a small cabin, contemplating how to put it best in Hungarian that "Attraversiamo - It means, Let's cross over", (keljünk át? menjünk át? vágjunk át?) I suddenly heard a rustling noise. The plastic bag lying next to me started to move a little bit, and after some more rustling a hairy, black tarantula poked his (or her) head out. He then comfortably crossed the room - checking out some of our bags in its way - then left through the door.
Close Encounters of a Great Kind.
Friday, March 9, 2012
When Everything Falls in Place
Sometimes you get this feeling that the Universe conspires not against you but for you. Seemingly complicated things happen smoothly, the unlucky event turns out to be in your favor, chance encounters will provide you with the necessary information. Somehow everything clicks.
When I got into my mind that I was the one who had to translate Elizabeth Gilbert's book into Hungarian I had no idea how to actually do it (besides the obvious - to sit down and translate it). The internet seemed a good place to start my search, and within minutes I found a literary translation course in Budapest that was about to start. I e-mailed them, got a positive answer and I booked my ticket to Hungary - leaving California and my old life behind. I literally drove from the airport to the first class. Since there were only a few students there, we were told that the course might not even start. The last minute, though, another hopeful candidate arrived, and we had our first lecture.
While I maintain that literary translation cannot really be taught, there were a lot of things that we learned - mostly by trial and error. Useful pointers were given - alongside with tons of homework: translating everything from some of Hemingway's short stories to some of the adventures of Adrian Mole.
My next step was finding out who had the rights for Gilbert's book in Hungary. I contacted them, told them I was a beginner translator and I had a few chapters translated from Eat, Pray, Love. Could I send them in? Sure! Send it in! And just a few days later I got an answer: If I want, I can translate the book.
So, suddenly, I was there with a whole book to translate. Which is what I wanted, right?
Of course, I freaked out.
http://elizabethgilbert.com/
When I got into my mind that I was the one who had to translate Elizabeth Gilbert's book into Hungarian I had no idea how to actually do it (besides the obvious - to sit down and translate it). The internet seemed a good place to start my search, and within minutes I found a literary translation course in Budapest that was about to start. I e-mailed them, got a positive answer and I booked my ticket to Hungary - leaving California and my old life behind. I literally drove from the airport to the first class. Since there were only a few students there, we were told that the course might not even start. The last minute, though, another hopeful candidate arrived, and we had our first lecture.
While I maintain that literary translation cannot really be taught, there were a lot of things that we learned - mostly by trial and error. Useful pointers were given - alongside with tons of homework: translating everything from some of Hemingway's short stories to some of the adventures of Adrian Mole.
My next step was finding out who had the rights for Gilbert's book in Hungary. I contacted them, told them I was a beginner translator and I had a few chapters translated from Eat, Pray, Love. Could I send them in? Sure! Send it in! And just a few days later I got an answer: If I want, I can translate the book.
So, suddenly, I was there with a whole book to translate. Which is what I wanted, right?
Of course, I freaked out.
http://elizabethgilbert.com/
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Eat, Pray, Love - My first ever
The book that has literally changed my life - and has made me become a literary translator.
I know that there are tons of women around the world who claim to feel the same way - and I refer to the first part of the sentence - and it might be even true. There may be women who packed up their belongings, went to an Ashram to meditate for a while, or moved to Italy and have gained 30 pounds since. Or have found love in Bali or any other exotic location. I think it was such a huge success because so many of us could identified with Elizabeth (maybe our marriages were on the rocks, maybe the comfort of our lives started to feel suffocating and our job meaningless, we were trying to fight off depression, trying to find underlying casues of depression, getting more depressed in the process, doing yoga but still not finding inner peace not to mention enlightenment ) and felt that "hey, I could take a trip somewhere, too!"
I did. I went to Peru to do some volunteerwork in the rainforest. I remember getting out of the plane in Puerto Maldonado and feeling all choked up - I had this very strong feeling that I was where I had to be. I was looking forward to all the great adventures and all the interesting people I was just about to meet.
I was totally miserable. The trip to the biological station deep in the forest was a nightmare. Despite being in the tropics it was freaking cold and the rain was pouring the whole seven hours and all I wanted was to go home (but first, to get dry). When we got to our camp I had to get over my first shock - the doors of the little cabins were non-existent. There were nothing on the windows. I mean, come on, we are in the forest, full of dangerous animals - that can obviously come and visit us whenever they want.
I wasn't really sociable those first few days. Hated being woken up at 4 in the morning to walk along a muddy trail to count all the animals we encounter. (How can you count a group of squirrel monkeys that swing through the branches 20 metres above your head?).
Eventually the forest (and the people) wore down my resistance and I found myself feeling more alive than ever before. The rainforest can have this effect on you. Your senses - those that you harldy ever use in your daily life in the city - finally come alive. Not just your sense of smell, for example (I was able to smell a group of pecary in no time - which is not a big wasistdas considering they are quite stinky) but your sense of balance and your sense of wonder also. Yes, it might be tainted with fear - am I gonna be eaten by a big old jaguar? - but even that thought can help you finding your place in the big picture (yes, you can be someone else's dinner). You are part of the web of life.
I did not think for a moment that counting forest animals or jotting down notes about macaw behaviour at the clay-lick will save the world. I guess it would be naiv for any volunteers to have such high aspirations. But at least part of our money provided extra income to some local people, who in turn might not had to resort to illegal logging, for example. (I hope that was the case, at least).
On the other hand, spending hours in a hide at the riverbank writing down what the macaws do at the clay-lick every 3 minutes (7.00 - one macaw scratched his head. 7.03 two macaws scratched each other heads...) gives you plenty of time to wonder which direction your life is going (negative direction) and what you should do about it (something). And that's when the thought (if I can call it a thought - more like a gut-feeling) came - I wanna translate Eat, Pray, Love.
I know that there are tons of women around the world who claim to feel the same way - and I refer to the first part of the sentence - and it might be even true. There may be women who packed up their belongings, went to an Ashram to meditate for a while, or moved to Italy and have gained 30 pounds since. Or have found love in Bali or any other exotic location. I think it was such a huge success because so many of us could identified with Elizabeth (maybe our marriages were on the rocks, maybe the comfort of our lives started to feel suffocating and our job meaningless, we were trying to fight off depression, trying to find underlying casues of depression, getting more depressed in the process, doing yoga but still not finding inner peace not to mention enlightenment ) and felt that "hey, I could take a trip somewhere, too!"
I did. I went to Peru to do some volunteerwork in the rainforest. I remember getting out of the plane in Puerto Maldonado and feeling all choked up - I had this very strong feeling that I was where I had to be. I was looking forward to all the great adventures and all the interesting people I was just about to meet.
I was totally miserable. The trip to the biological station deep in the forest was a nightmare. Despite being in the tropics it was freaking cold and the rain was pouring the whole seven hours and all I wanted was to go home (but first, to get dry). When we got to our camp I had to get over my first shock - the doors of the little cabins were non-existent. There were nothing on the windows. I mean, come on, we are in the forest, full of dangerous animals - that can obviously come and visit us whenever they want.
I wasn't really sociable those first few days. Hated being woken up at 4 in the morning to walk along a muddy trail to count all the animals we encounter. (How can you count a group of squirrel monkeys that swing through the branches 20 metres above your head?).
Eventually the forest (and the people) wore down my resistance and I found myself feeling more alive than ever before. The rainforest can have this effect on you. Your senses - those that you harldy ever use in your daily life in the city - finally come alive. Not just your sense of smell, for example (I was able to smell a group of pecary in no time - which is not a big wasistdas considering they are quite stinky) but your sense of balance and your sense of wonder also. Yes, it might be tainted with fear - am I gonna be eaten by a big old jaguar? - but even that thought can help you finding your place in the big picture (yes, you can be someone else's dinner). You are part of the web of life.
I did not think for a moment that counting forest animals or jotting down notes about macaw behaviour at the clay-lick will save the world. I guess it would be naiv for any volunteers to have such high aspirations. But at least part of our money provided extra income to some local people, who in turn might not had to resort to illegal logging, for example. (I hope that was the case, at least).
On the other hand, spending hours in a hide at the riverbank writing down what the macaws do at the clay-lick every 3 minutes (7.00 - one macaw scratched his head. 7.03 two macaws scratched each other heads...) gives you plenty of time to wonder which direction your life is going (negative direction) and what you should do about it (something). And that's when the thought (if I can call it a thought - more like a gut-feeling) came - I wanna translate Eat, Pray, Love.
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