The good old, old days

In Michael Crichton’s book Timeline, one character, Andrė, decides to remain in the past, specifically the year 1357, because he finds life then much more to his taste. Many readers probably identified with the longing for idyllic past with all of its simple charm and without any of modern life’s stresses. Alas, life in the pre-industrial age was not a bowl of cherries.  It may be that it was slower and less stressful but it involved much hard work and many limitations unimaginable today.

Let us discuss the basic needs for heating, cooking and light. Pre-electricity means wood or charcoal stoves, which often served all three functions. Someone, generally a lower-class woman, had to get up before dawn and get the fire going. Depending on the size of the house and its design, this limited heat did not necessary get to all of the rooms. Cooking and baking on a wood stove is an art that takes year to learn in terms of controlling the temperature. As for light, aside from the fire, people only had relatively expensive candles to extend their day.  To give a perspective, for the wedding of the daughter of the French King, Louis Phillippe (the Bourgeois) in the early 19^th century, the cost of lighting the ballroom was higher than the cost of the bride’s dress.

On the subject of clothes, pret-a-porter had not been invented, meaning you could not just go to the store and buy a pair of pants or a dress, not to mention underwear. Someone, a tailor or seamstress, had to make it specifically for you.  Each item was expensive, meaning that even the wealthy had very limited wardrobes.  As for cleaning it, without any washing machine, each item had to be taken to the river and cleaned by hand.  Talk about time-consuming and strenuous work.

The other great necessity, food, was also rather limited.  Food transportation was by wagon or boat only. Anybody distant from the few good roads or a body of water lived on what was locally available, which could lack variety and even quantity depending on the area and season. It is no surprise that most local peasant recipes involve maximum effort to attain the most benefit from any locally available food.

Of course, money solves most problems, even then. Unfortunately, money was also an issue.  The pre-industrial age was a time without bank credit, credit cards, checks or even paper money. Money was all about valuable metals and weight. Spain became rich because it plundered lots of millions of pounds in gold and silver, literally.  However, given the limitations of weight, transportation and raw materials, peripheral locations often lacked the money to conduct basic financial transactions. Those fur farmers in North America in the 17^th and 18^th century even traded in buck skins to complement the limited number of British, Dutch, French and Spanish coins they could get their hands on.

So, I personally am less excited about living the cold, dark, dirty and difficult life of 400 years ago. I am willing to put up with cell phone calls at inappropriate times, around-the-clock emails, bank account vigilance and even smog for the privilege of feeling warm, clean and fed and being capable of buying almost anything and going anywhere in this world. 2018 ain’t so bad, really.

Divinely great but confusing

A few days ago, as I was driving along the main road to Acco and passing a neighboring Arab village, I noticed a message painted on the exterior of a house in clear white English letters: God is great.  My initial reaction was not theological but linguistic.  In other words, I wondered which God the houseowner meant.

To explain, if the letters had been in Arabic and read Allah Akbar, I would have known the sign was referring to the Moslem God. Likewise, the sign saying Dieu est grand in France would be referring to the Catholic God although the same sign in Algeria would probably refer to Allah. However, back to our allah akbar, in Iraq, it is not clear whether the Shiite or Sunni master is the subject of the sign.

For that matter, a German Gott ist groß is no less ambivalent as Germany is historically a mixture of Protestant and Catholic provinces. By contrasts, in the American south, that sign in English would most probably refer to the Baptist or other Protestant diety. Likewise, in Spain or South America, Dios es grande is directed at the Catholic commander-in-chief.

The Hebrew version possesses another question.  While there is no dispute among Jews about the identity of the Chief Engineer (we focus our disputes on what exactly he wants us to do), the expression Elohim Gadol has two twists. For some, it imbibes the omnipotence of God.  However, the term is also used in slang to express a complete lack of control.  For example, if asked whether the contractor will finish the job on time, someone could answer Elohim gadol, the English equivalent being God knows.

So, upon seeing that sign, I responded in a typical Israel way: Yes, but.  That is I did not formally disagree but immediately complicated the issue.  Theology can be so confusing.

18 Karat Israeli

I have spent half my life in Israel. I married Israeli women. I raised my child in Israel. I no longer feel at home in the United States. I would never live in another country.  Still, I am not 100% Israeli nor will ever be.  I have to accept that fact.

My impurity goes beyond my accent or love of American football and baseball, remnants of my previous life. It is expressed in subtle things, experiences shared by most Israelis but not by me. It is too late to correct them either even if I so wanted.

First of all, I do not eat or like bamba, a fried peanut snack adored by Israelis of all religions. In my mind, it reeks of burnt peanuts but for people of my adopted homeland, brings back memories and causes their mouth to water. The closest American cultural equivalent is root beer, a non-exportable American product.

Likewise, winter in Israel is not snow but instead krembo, a sweet, fluffy marshmallow foam in a thin chocolate shell wrapped in aluminum foil. Traditionally, ice cream production stopped in September and was replaced by these krembo.  The debates on the proper technique for eating it are as elaborate as those regarding Oreo cookies. In my mind, it is a waste of calories but good luck persuading any Israeli of that.

In terms of coming of age, aside from getting sick drunk, a universal ceremony, there are two rites that almost all Israelis go through.  The first one occurs in 7th grade, when all school children are required to prepare their family tree, at least for a few generations back, and interview their grandparents, a one-time honor for many of the golden age. In the past, this search for the past could be a little difficult, even strange, as the Holocaust erased many of the people behind the names but that is less true today. I have to admit that I have very little idea of my distant roots nor am I, even today, that interested in it.  Still, Israeli children, albeit under coercion, know from whence they came, not a bad thing really.

The other rite is the famous bakkum even if not experienced by all Israelis for one reason or another. It is the sorting center of the Army where potential recruits go at the age of 18 after they finish high school.  From what I understand, they are poked inside and out, assessed and classified and then sent to prospective training bases or home, as applicable.  I was 28 years old, married and suffered from hypoglycemia. IDF was not sufficiently desperate for manpower to want me, as Uncle Sam would say. So, I never passed through that gate. In some ways, I do regret not having passed down that road as it would have an interesting experience.  On the other hand, as my first wife once said, I have no idea of how to probably make a bed.  Oh well, it is far too late to remedy.

Lastly, most Israelis have spent a day at the beach in Tiberias, a town located next to the Sea of Galilee, a name no less misleading than Greenland. To explain, it is a fresh water lake 166.7 km² (64.4 sq. mi) at its fullest, which was some 20 years ago at least, and located in a basin. In the summer, it is the largest natural sauna I have ever seen.  The beach itself is mainly sand, to give it credit, but neither very long nor deep. Any beauty the location has, mainly very early morning, is ruined by the mass pilgrimage of Israelis of all ages to its beaches on holidays, especially Independence Day.  Every square meter is occupied.  Imagine a Tokyo subway with barbeques. One man’s poison is another man’s meat. 

Don’t get me wrong. I love living in Israel but everything has a limit.  The search for purity does not justify being totally miserable. I am perfectly contented being 18 karat Israeli.

Musical normalcy

It is hard to unlearn a mistake.  Whether first learning how to play an instrument or having heard a song sung in a certain way, once it gets into your brain, the error become a norm and refuses to leave.  For example, those that first read National Lampoon’s Bored of the Rings will eternally think that Frito and Pepsi are the actual names of the lead characters. In my cases, I can recall the lyrics to several songs from youth but not exactly those that would be found in the Wikipedia entry.

 

For example, there is the famous Disney classic from the movie “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs”, whose lyrics are as follows:

Heigh ho, heigh ho, it’s off to school we go

With switchblade knives and forty fives, heigh, heigh ho

Heigh ho, heigh ho, it’s off to school we go

With handgranades and razor blades, heigh heigh, heigh ho.

It should be noted, in all fairness, the movie version does not describe the manner of their return at all. So, we merely added details.

See: https://youtu.be/HI0x0KYChq4

Regarding that same love of school, being forced to go to Hebrew school, some of us used to chant:

Why do we have to rush, rush, rush? why do we have to rush, rush, rush? Why do we have to rush, rush, rush, to go to Hebrew school.

I just asked my wife what the real words are:

Hava narisha, rash, rash, rash, repeat, vaharishim.

It is actually a Purim song, rather joyful: https://youtu.be/HNxMmJPBgtg

Another song that we (collective responsibility) massacred is the classic “David Melech Israel, chai , chai vekiam”, which came out as follows:

Coca Cola, ginger ale, hi fi, pizza pie

Slightly different, I admit, but sweeter in a certain way and much more modern.  The original (as sung by more innocent children):https://youtu.be/u4dvFDLRPro

Of course, popular songs did not escape our damage.  One of the most important influences of my youth, MAD magazine, thoughtfully provided the lyrics to a leading single of the time, Downtown by Petula Clark:

Here is just a sample:

When you're at home and life is getting so hungry,
There's a meat you know,
Ground round.

You're in a hurry, but there's no need to scurry
It will help to know
Ground round.

Just mix it with some mac and cheese and you will look so witty
Add some Campbell's beef stock and your eatin' really nifty 
"How can you lose?"

There is no way you can err.
Some of the recipes double, and go in the fridge, cook slow

Cook brown
All meals taste great for sure
Ground round.
Use any place that your
Ground's sound
Won't taste like leather of shoe

For the full Mad lyrics, see http://www.amiright.com/parody/60s/petulaclark8.shtml

And the original https://youtu.be/Zx06XNfDvk0, not bad in their own right.

Nobody was safe from our mischief. Even the Beatles had their famous submarine dirtied:

We all live in the yellow submarine.

It used to be green but we couldn’t keep it clean.

Actually, our version showed much more creativity than the original, which merely repeated the words “Yellow submarine” as you can hear yourself:

https://youtu.be/m2uTFF_3MaA

So, this small sample shows how normal is how normal was learned, for better or worse, the latter in the case of my piano playing.  I am sure everybody has a catalog of songs in the brains whose lyrics do not match the youtube version.  As they say, variety is the spice of life.

The importance of apprivoiser, Candidely late

That trite expression, youth is wasted on the young, has a grain of truth. For example, there are many supposedly children’s books that are only fully appreciated long after adolescence.

To demonstrate, as part of my Advanced Placement French program in high school, I read Saint-Exupéry’s famous The Little Prince in the original French. While I was somewhat aware of the existence of its more profound points, I concentrated on the charming story as have millions of readers.

However, recently I remembered a certain incident, more specifically a word, from the text, namely apprivoiser.  The dictionary translates the word as to domesticate, win over or tame, the latter appearing in the English translation. In the context of the story, the word is applied in regards to the friendship with the fox (chapter XXI), the value of friendship and its price.

Alas, I would strongly disagree with the translation of the word into “tame” both in terms of linguistics and emotional intelligence. The fox does not become compliant as a tame animal would. Instead, it is won over, like a cat, free to act but choosing to create a tie.  I would consider translating apprivoiser as “to make special” even it does not fit the literary style of the book because it better expresses the concept of the word.  Moreover, my divorce, subsequent second marriage and wild voyage with my daughter has taught me the importance, even essentialness, of apprivoiser.  To have a strong social structure, you must make the people important to you feel special by investing time in them. Like the fox said to the Little Prince, go back to your rose. All roses may be created equal but we can and should choose to make certain roses special, whether they are plants or people. The price may be occasional tears but you gain, as the fox says.

So, now, several decades later, I finally understood the morale stated in that chapter: “It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye." Or as Voltaire wrote at the end of another deceivingly simple tale, Candide, “il faut cultiver son jardin” (let us cultivate our garden).

Valencia, plus or minus

My wife and I recently visited Spain, more specifically Valencia, for the first time, spending a total of a week in that city. The purpose was to attend a conference (see previous post) but we also played tourist. Seven days does not make you a connoisseur of a city but still creates clear impressions, however errant they may be.  So, I apologize in advance for any rushed judgments.

As the name of the city suggests, the oranges and orange juice were plentiful and good.  For that matter so were the coffee and beer, which I thoroughly enjoyed (but did not abuse). As for the Sangria, I am allergic to grapes and chose to avoid it but not because of its taste.  In terms of meat, there was lots of jamon (ham) and its cousins.  Of these porcine delicacies, I acquired a tasted for certain sausages (whose name escapes me but they are small and red) but found the bacon rather limp. We spent the whole time in the old city and ran into two phenomena, churches and smiles.  Our walking guide said that there were 24 churches in only the old city only, albeit with only a few actually regularly active. They do provide interest, both architecturally and historically, but that is a matter of taste. Actually, the most interesting site to visit in the old city is the covered market. It is clean, large and filled with tempting food, especially oysters, one of my favorite foods.  The oysters I sampled, twice, were among the largest I had ever eaten. In terms of atmosphere, the smile and good humor of the residents is contagious.  The Spanish way of rolling through life is a nice contrast after the tension of Israel.

Less is not always worse but sometimes detracts. For example, the level of knowledge of English outside the hotel was close to absolute zero.  For example, I had to ask a question at a bank and entered a branch of a major European bank.  There were at least 10 bankers, assumingly with college degrees, but only one could speak French while none could speak English.  I was rather surprised to see this level of monolinguism in a city of 1 million people.  Likewise, the desserts and pastries in particular were far from tempting and not worth taking seconds. I find this surprising given the high-quality raw materials that we saw at the central market. A bit spoiled by my French heritage, I also found local use of spices in food to be a bit minimal and unbalanced, aside from saffron, of course. Furthermore, the lack of light in the sky until 8:00 in the morning was almost uncomfortable but the Valencians are not to blame for that. On the other hand, I was impressed by train system in Spain.  We took the express train from Madrid to Valencia and sat in the quiet wagon.  The trip was indeed fast and quiet.  Speeds reached some 300 kph with almost complete silence in the cabin.  We took advantage of it on the way back to Madrid and enjoyed our siesta.

On the bright side, we didn’t see much of the three things and were quite happy to make do without them: sugar, salt and litter. Those sweets we did eat lacked the overbearing sugar content typical of American and many Israeli desserts. Likewise, people with high blood pressure can relax in Spain, apparently, as cooks don’t overdo the salt, at least where we ate. Finally, the Valencia I saw is a clean city, almost without the plastic bags, cigarette buds and sunflower seeds that are typical of many Mediterranean cities. You can  call it addition by subtraction.

All in all, we had a wonderful time, discovering an unknown world and fueling a desire to explore other regions in Spain. Writing this post, I thought of Alexander Dumas, who funded his writing by writing travel guides, including to Spain and Russia, funded by hosting governments of course. I paid my own way but enjoyed the never-ending process of unfolding the world and discovering alternative realities.  Hasta la vista, Spain.

Premature death notice – in translation

My wife and I just attended the IAPTI (International Association of Professional Translators and Interpreters) conference in Valencia, Spain. Some 200 translators and interpreters from five continents participated. A good time was had by all. While there was no formal theme to this conference, we learned (as we already knew) that the reported imminent disappearance of human translation is mistaken. On the contrary, translators and interpreters can look forward to a long, fruitful career.

The conference began appropriately by bridging the past and present. Emily Wilson explained her new translation of Homer’s Odyssey into English in terms of elucidating the many individual perspectives embedded in the narratives of that book, which had been often ignored by previous translation. In other words, her modern translation emphasizes the diversity of viewpoints. On a similar level, Sergio Viaggio make a strong argument for interpreting from the first language into the second language in handing testimony of witnesses in international crimes against humanity hearings by emphasizing the importance of strengthening the voice of the victims, even at the expense of the ease of understanding of the justices. This need to amplify the voice of the underprivileged, a modern concern, was present in many lectures, including in regards to women’s rights, the handicapped and IAPTI African initiative. These were only a few of the lectures and topics.

As for the future of the profession, it is clear that human translators will continue to exist, albeit with adjustment to the modern world. Clearly, machine translation, whether neural translation or Google translate, will take on an increasing role in both general and standardized texts. However, whenever complete understanding is necessary, professional translators have a clear role. As several lectures explained,  one role is to transcreate, transferring the message without using the exact and inappropriate words of the original. Moreover, as Ralf Lemster explained, translators have two main paths to success: attack the mass market applying the technical time-saving tips that Xose Castro succinctly and enthusiastically provided or specialize in narrow area applying the business savvy of Allesandra Vita.

In any case, we left Valencia with hope, direction and optimism and fueled by the content of the lectures, lecturers and participants. The challenge they consciously and unconsciously posed to the translators, that is to grow, observe, adapt and improve, is a bit daunting but actually quite achievable. If we do so, translation will be alive and kicking for a long time to come.