Thursday, March 29, 2007

Molar no mola

Yesterday I had one of my wisdom tooth pulled out. It was one of the worst experience I've ever had since childhood (well, excluding the appendectomy one).

I had known for years that one fine day this molar must be got rid of for good, and from the moment I noticed its inclination towards the other teeth, my fear over the extraction had been gradually increasing ever since. Call me chicken and I wouldn't retaliate. Yes I am, at least when it comes to odontology. Each time I stepped into dental clinics, I was brought back to that painful bloody experience in my childhood when my mom brought my bros and me to that damn dental clinic near our home where one of the two kind-looking female dentists took care of us. If her hands had been at least as gentle as her speech, I wouldn't have been left traumatised up until now. I could feel that she was madly rummaging in my mouth in search of some villainous bad teeth and tried her very best, and successfully, to pull them out in spite of their persistance to stay rooted in my gum.

In fact, the yesterday operation was noticeably less painful than any one I had had. However, I was totally rigid, tense and stressed in my position. Didn't move an inch. Embarrassed and uncomfortable as I was, I walked out of the clinic with a swollen cheek, pretending to be normal as people stared at me in the face. It wasn't about physical pain that worried me like when I was a child anymore, but a humiliation caused by the eyes of curiosity penetrating right into mine.

I couldn't help thinking about my swollen face and what people would think of it...especially when some good-looking guys came by. :D

Sunday, March 25, 2007

Lost in Translation

Last month I had a chance to revise a thai translation of three english texts, done by an outsource translation agency who eventually paid a freelance to do the job. It was, without any excuse, a totally botched job done by a self-proclaimed profesional translator. A real shame.

I don't mind people making mistakes in their jobs, we are human after all. The vital part is whether we've got guts to face our own blunders and embrace the comments for the better. If we made our own bed and wouldn't want to lie in it, who else would?

As far as the ethics concern, a translator should at least revise the final text before submitting it to his/her client. In this case, the translation came with tons of orthographic mistakes. Misspelling could be found in every single paragraph, not to mention the inadequate use of puntuation and mistranslation. I gave in after meticulously having corrected the first text, for it took too much time which I had better dedicate for something else more useful to the project.

The company returned the texts to the agency, who consequently passed our comments (made by me) to the translator. A few days later he sent us an email explaining about the gaffes. His excuses weren't in any way plausible. My translation is semantic not verbatim and therefore I didn't translate literally into thai (well, his translation was INDEED verbatim rather than semantic, in my opinion. I had no idea why he said that! And some cases, he even failed to translate certain words). As for a term such as Andrology which isn't yet officially coined in Thai, he opted for loan translation which doesn't make any sense at all, without putting any explanatory note anywhere.

The worst of it all was the catastrophic use of puntuation such as full stops, commas and semicolons. These marks are hardly used in Thai, only in some extremely rare cases, according to Thai standard, but each paragraph was full of them. The culprit justified his action by saying that, though fully aware of the said standard, he still used them because it was HIS standard and style! With this sentence, he didn't even deserve to be called a translator, and even less a Thai.

Until next time, I will keep praying that such species of irresponsible language professionals faced the extinction very soon so the circle would be left untainted.

Friday, March 23, 2007

First Come, First Serve (?)

Life in Spain is all about making queue. Be it in banks, hospitals, supermarkets, theatres, lottery stands, department stores, FNAC, Casa del Libro, Mc Donald's, Kebab's, bus stops or even the chinese grocery store by your home. But as far as my experience concerns, I still haven't found the clearly defined standard of queuing etiquette in Madrid.

Every morning, on weekdays, I must hurry to Moncloa to form a part of an incredibly mile-long queue of oficinistas waiting for the bus number 162, a sole mean of public transport that connects one of the most congested squares in Madrid to a desolated suburban office zone near Aravaca. Since I enjoy the pleasure of sitting and reading on the way to the office, I always arrive exactly when the first bus leaves and wait for the upcoming empty one.

Unfortunately, there are also those who want to earn this privilege without effort by shamelessly cutting the queue on the pretext of talking with their colleagues or acquaintances who have previously arrived before them.

I've been experiencing this phenomenon for one full year and see that this is not quite common in some other places or establishments. It particulary happens only at this cursed bus stop and, therefore, can't be concluded as a Spanish queuing etiquette for which I at first wrongly mistook.
Spaniards do jump the queue , although rarely. Most of the culprits are immigrants (no offense here) and that, in my opinion, contributes sadly to the fact that foreigners are negatively viewed as troublesome in the native eyes.

At first, I was so firm in my believe in the proper queuing etiquette and always gave some openly accusing gazes at those who had a real cheek to slip in front of me, until one fine day I realised that it was done regularly, even by a colleague of mine who always came to salute me and stood by me as if it was one of the most ordinary behaviour in the world. No guilt, no shame. It shook my foundation of believe to the core. And I started thinking maybe I was the one who was swimming against the tide.

I'm ashamed of what my colleague does but still I haven't got the guts to tell her that I really don't think she should cut the queue just like this. I don't want to look at the others in the eyes, because I know, though not my fault, I was partly to blame. I wish every morning that the bus come before she finds me or that my existance in the queue went unnoticed or, be that as it may, somebody reproached her (or us?).

Maybe it's too much to ask for. Perhaps I'm expecting something from the place that can't grant such request. Or it's simply the way it is and I'm too serious about life. But there's one thing I know for sure; making a queue at this bus stop isn't what it was anymore and has become some kind of stressful adventure each morning.

Monday, March 12, 2007

Metro de Madrid informa...

Que ya pueden ustedes disfrutar de la prestación de servicios especiales en toda la red de Metro de Madrid.

Ponemos a su disposición un nuevo servicio de tren de mierda, cuyo mantenimiento se realiza cada década para el mayor rendimiento de la máquina. La situación se efectúa de forma extremadamente lenta e imprevisible en todas las putas estaciones llenas de basuras y carteristas.

Y con el objetivo de que los estimados pasajeros pudiesen disfrutar de la maravillosa vista de las oscuras paredes subterráneas, tambien se presta, gratuita y aleatoriamente, el servicio de paradas interestacionales de entre uno y treinta minutos (o más), independientemente de horas punta, trayectos o la voluntad de pasajeros. Este dichoso servicio está destinado exclusivamente para hinchar los huevos a todos los desesperados oficinistas que aspiren llegar con toda prisa al curro a tiempo pero que no consigan despegar el perezoso culo de la cama a las seis de la mañana.

Además, informamos que traigan paraguas y linterna en caso de diluvio incesante que pudiese provocar una riada suburbana, resultando en la falta de luz y goteos. Para demostrar la responsabilidad de nuestra parte, Metro de Madrid repartirá dos tiritas a cada persona que sufra cualquier tipo de traumatismo, causado por la superficie deslizante del puñetero suelo mojado.

Para expresar nuestro constante apoyo a las campañas del Ministerio de Salud, apagamos la mayoría de las escaleras automáticas y ascensores medievales (que nunca funcionan con normalidad) en casi todas las estaciones más concurridas y profundas de la red, tales como Cuatro Caminos, Plaza de España y Moncloa. De esta manera, todos los distinguidos pasajeros, sean jóvenes, embarazadas, asmáticos o cardíacos, podrán aprovechar la ocasión para hacer ejercicio físico por el bien de su salud.

Les confirmamos que, utilizando todo el dinero que ustedes nos han abonado estúpida e inevitablemente, continuaremos ejecutando este desarrollo degenerativo de la red de metro, con el fin de convertirla en la mejor caja de sorpresas de todos los metros del mundo.

Esperamos que todo nuestro esfuerzo anteriormente mencionado, junto con el apoyo leal de nuestros pasajeros, nos ayude a ganar el primer puesto del concurso internacional de El Metro Más Jodido del Mundo.

Muchas gracias.

Metro de Mierda de Madrid (MMM), siempre pueden contar con nosotros.

Wednesday, March 07, 2007

What a Lil' Panda Can Do

I'd love to give this cutie lil' pandita a big hug! :)