Love in a foreign language

I don't usually like interpreting; as opposed to translating on paper, I much prefer the latter. You can think and revise and perfect what you translate. With interpreting, you have to be totally attentive to the here and now and not let anything distract you. Sometimes you are so attentive, that your awareness of that atentiveness distracts you, with the result that you miss a key word or concept, and then you botch up the translation, or you have to ask the person to repeat what they said. It's quite stressful at times.
Today, I spent 8 hours at the racetrack, where a some people were going to take several cars on rigorous road tests using professional racedriving techniques. They were English speakers, from different places around the world, but the instructors were Spanish speakers. I was the Interpreter - the go-between.

So we had finished two of the tests, and were on a coffee break, when a young woman on the team that had hired me for the event pulled me over and asked me in whispered excitement if I could give a message to one of the men who was there for the event.
"Could you please tell the guy in the black shirt that I would like to talk to him but I just can't speak a word of English."
Now how was I supposed to react to that?? More followed:
"But wait until my boss is not around. I don't want her to hear."
I still didn't know what to say! What I said was, "Okay, no problem."
Everyone was milling around the refreshment table, and then she came up to me again and said, "Yesterday, he tried to talk to me a couple of times, but I couldn't understand, and I just want him to know that I would like to understand. I know when you tell him, he'll say the same thing."
Ahh! Now I was starting to understand. Or was I? Had they really already reached some sort of intutitive understanding? How exciting, if I was right!

A few minutes later, just as I was biting into a plum, squirting juice in seven directions, the guy in the black shirt turned towards me. Not only was he extremely good-looking - jet black hair and sea-blue eyes!!! very unusual - but he also had excellent reflexes. He grabbed a napkin and handed it to me. Naturally I made light of the whole thing by exclaiming about the delicious juiciness of the plum, and by that time the young woman had moved to join us. So I said,
"Oh Jay (not his real name), Nina (not her real name) here asked me to tell you that she would really like to talk to you but it's just that she can't speak English. She just wanted you to know that."
"Well, please tell her that I've been really wanting to speak to her too! But I don't speak any Spanish. But I'd like to invite her to dinner with our group tonight."
So I turned to Nina and told her all of that but I forgot to switch languages - whereupon there was a moment of blank silence, then sudden understanding on my part of my mistake, and then spontaneous, tension-breaking laughter, after which I told her his wishes in Spanish. She immediately responded by thanking him, and adding that maybe they could e-mail each other and translate each other's letters, which I translated to him, and he said that would be fantastic and would she give him her e-mail, so she said she would.
Then the boss came back into circulation, so we split up and went back to business at hand.

Two hours later, during another break, Nina took me aside again.
"Oh what should I do? I want to talk to him, but how?"
I said, "Why don't you write him a note in Spanish and then I'll help you put it into English."
"Okay, I'll tell you and you write the note."
"No, better if you write it, I translate, and then you rewrite it in your handwriting in English."
So that's what we did. This is what she wrote:
'Hi! This is my e-mail address. I just want to say that I really hope that we can find a way to talk to each other. And if you write to me, I'm going to translate each of your e-mails to Spanish and then write you back. Then you will have to translate my letters from Spanish to English (you can do it in the Internet). I'm glad we are going to be in communication.'
And she gave it to him.

When it was time for them to board their bus, Jay came up to me and said, "Could you please tell Nina that I think she is absolutely stunning?" When he saw my incredulous look - how often do you hear the word stunning used like that? - he nodded and said, "I'm serious! Tell her I am going to write to her and that I'm really hoping we can get together this evening because I do want to get to know her."
So I told her (though it was hard to find an effective translation for the word 'stunning' and all it implies, and I told her that too!) and she blushed with happiness.

"It was just one of those things. We fell in love with each other before we could even communicate! We had to get the interpreter to help us set up our first date."

Will that be the story they tell their grandkids one day?

You

It's like diving in. You know how it feels to plunge head first into deep cool water? Your body shoots below the surface, slicing through the water, and in that silent weightlessness amid bubbles and currents, the feel of yourself and the feel of the water cannot be separated.

Or like this morning. I was dreaming and then I was not - in the middle of a word - I think it was a cry or a call - in some kind of glaringly bright piece of somewhere, I opened my eyes and it was the gray light of early morning and I was in my bed at home. But as I teetered between glaring and gray, between loud and still, between there and here, I saw you.

I've been thinking about you a lot in the last couple of days. Or rather, consciously not thinking of you. I put my thoughts on hold time and again to attend to what's going on or escape into acceptable modes of fantasy.

But this morning, it was as if someone had thrown a cog into the machinery causing a fragmenting of time. In the middle of the ordinary, things became extraordinary. I was driving along the cobblestone road that leads out of this tiny town, traveling slowly and gently over the speedbumps and dips, and I looked to my left, as I do when I'm on this road, taking in the volcanoes and the puff of smoke sitting atop the Popo, marveling at the shouting blue of the sky, and noting that the clouds seemed to be frozen there in a billowing whiteness...

Meanwhile, the Dixie Chicks were singing that song about a landslide, and suddenly I saw you, moving in a rhythm that breathed with the sound of your voice and the beat of my heart; you were putting on your socks and telling me the dogs were waiting to be fed, you were wheedling a kiss from me, you were telling me about the political scene, you were on the phone, you were calling me over to see something on the computer, you were cooking and explaining the virtues of olive oil, you were offering me a taste of your fragrant steaming mug of coffee, you were going outside to oversee the work on the cars and asking me to bring your water bottle... you were telling me I would miss your love when you were gone.
And I do!

I know, I know... you told me so.

It's Q and A Time - i.o.w. A Quiz!

Well, I read Fned's blog and she was tagging anyone who arrived there, so I said I would play the Q&A game; why not? Here are the Questions and my Answers:

1. What did you want to be when you were little?
   A writer, a singer, and an actress - all together. I used to invent all these stories and then act them out (playing all the parts myself). Most of the plots included the scene where the wild, or poor, or uneducated - but always beautiful - young girl is discovered by a rich handsome guy who somehow gets lost in some rural paradise, where he hears her singing while she's picking berries or whatever, whereupon he convinces her to go to the big city, where she's able to become a star, but she always ends up scorning wealth and glamour and returning to her rustic life, whereupon the guy who has naturally fallen in love with her by then, goes and finds her and they end up together... There were also plots that had to do with an incredibly elaborate story of espionage and got played out with NoneOther when we were left to our own devices. When I was very young, I wrote out the story of the lives of my paper dolls including Pickles (their dog) in my Big Chief tablet (and I still have it!).
2. What one place makes you the happiest being there?
   Wow! Only one place? Hmmm... okay, I'd have to say up on the roof. I rarely go up any more, but whenever I've gone up on the roof of any of the places I've lived, I've always felt especially happy. Just being above all the mundane, daily comings and goings of everyone, and looking out over everything from a higher place... it's a great feeling.
3. Do you wish your first kiss could have been with somebody else?
   Absolutely not! The only first kiss that I really remember as being such was the first kiss with Car - and that was a kiss like no other. I once wrote a song about it.
4. What's one thing you wish you could tell your 16-yr-old self?
   Don't think twice! Take your parents up on their offer to send you to a Kibbutz for the summer!
5. What movie do you never get tired of watching?
   There are lots... and all for different - but equally compelling - reasons. At this moment, Jerry Maguire comes to mind, for the overall good message and feeling you get from it.
6. What movie do you wish you had never seen?
   "Whatever happened to Baby Jane?". That movie gave me nightmares for years, and even today I can't stand to remember any part of it.
7. How much time do you admit to spending on Facebook in a week's time and how much time do you really spend there?
   Two to four hours. And that's for real. How do I know? Because whenever I go in there, I end up spending a couple of hours, and then I inevitably check back a few days later but very quickly... that's it for the week. And there are weeks where I don't go in at all because I'm still frustrated about the last time I sat there for 2 to 4 hours.
8. Who do you miss at this exact moment?
   My Dad - it's almost Father's Day and I wish I could be there and wish him a happy day in person. HAPPY FATHER'S DAY DAD. I LOVE YOU AND MISS YOU!
9. Where are you going tomorrow and why?
   Nowhere special, but maybe for a long walk or a bike ride. Probably up on the roof at some point now that I think about it!! Those are some ideas of what I want to do.
10. If you had a gift certificate for plastic surgery and you had to use it (witness protection program or something) what would you get done?
    My nose. Not for beauty's sake, but rather to open up my nasal passages.

Okay - I did it. Now that means that you too have to do it if you were here! Are you up for it? Ready? GO!

Oil and Water - an exception to the rule

It's raining! I wanted to write a post about the oil spill and the whole terrible disaster of BP in the Gulf. But the sound of the rain has captivated my attention so it's water I'm going to talk about instead. I'm sitting in front of a huge bare window, knowing the rain is pouring down yet unable to see it clearly in the evening twilight.

And that's the unexpected perfection of this moment - Sitting all alone in the silence of this building at dusk, listening to the rain in surround sound. I'm only barely able to see and smell the rain, but the stereophonic volume of it heightens my feelings, and that in turn intensifies my powers of listening. It sounds like velvet. It sounds like an important message from God pouring down to be deciphered second by second, drop by drop. It sounds like fresh things coming and joyous celebration. It sounds like the story of a secret wish coming true. It sounds like tears brimming and overflowing the eyes that have experienced loveliness beyond description.

It's raining - without thunder or lightning - the best kind of rain. The kind that comforts and promises and makes you hope for a night of it, for the chance to fall asleep to the sound of it's drenching quenching devoid of malice.

The rain started exactly when I started to write my blog, but just think if it hadn't! I would have written about the oil spill. I would have said that it's horrible to think what is happening there, all those millions of gallons of oil gushing into the ocean. I would have said I've been feeling the pull of that annoying kind of guilt you feel when you ignore something you know needs your attention, because I have been ignoring the whole issue, because I couldn't bear to think about it and know that another day was passing with no solution in sight, because it took one of my students bringing up the subject to open my eyes and make me look at what's going on, and read about it, and mull and ponder over things I can do to help.

And in fact, that's how I came to sit down here and blog about it! But now look! It's raining! The rain has washed away all my good intentions to blog about the oil spill. Still, there is something I can do! I can pass on to you this blogspot link where you can read about a certain group of people spreading information and taking action positively. Now THAT'S what I call blogging about the oil spill! Just copy and paste this link: http://casa-catherwood.com/disasterinthegulf.html

Meanwhile, I'll consider myself lucky to have been here for the rain! It's allowed me to mix together - for once, if only in a blog - oil and water.

Retrieval, Recovery, Redemption!

Well, it looks like - even to me - this sudden return to blogging is a direct result of my having read Fned's blog earlier. But actually it's not.

I checked into my blog today because I was determined to finally return to blogging -which I've been thinking about doing for a while now. The problem was - I had been finding myself in Facebook more and more and it took up too much time for me to THEN write a blog. But over the months, the whole FB thing has started to irk me!! I mean it's a great way to connect up with friends and relatives, but all you can do is see their (or write your own) short little snippets about what's going on... it seems hollow somehow. Then again, is NO writing at all less hollow?

Hollowness aside, what I'm trying to state here is that communication in general is what it's all about. But blogging - blogging is a responsibility. It's not something to be taken lightly. Later, you go back and read over what you've written and it's like the day of reckoning! If you're satisfied, you feel you've accomplished something and you're redeemed! But heaven help you if you realize it's not what you really wanted to say! Because then you feel ridiculous, or frustrated, and you know that you've wasted your precious time. Yes, blogging is heavy.

But that's the challenge of it! That's what makes it worthwhile! And what are the alternatives to blogging? Twittering? Facebooking? These alternatives have their charms and even their reasons for being, but they don't provide an outlet for stretching our minds. And that's what is so truly wonderful about blogging - it's mental exercise. We should all get more of that! I know I need it. I haven't been exercising the creative writing part of my mind enough for the last I-don't-know-how-long. So now it's time to try again.

That's what I wanted to say today. It's time to go back to finding and reading interesting blogs again, and to take on the responsibility of forming and writing down my own new thoughts and ideas and putting them out there for others to see and respond to - or not.