November 28, 2012

I’ve had a lot of guests in Sicily.

One spoke no Italian at all and kept roping me into doing her linguistic dirty work.

She loved shopping. We entered Max Mara, a high-end clothing shop. “See if you can haggle with them!” she said, fingering a leather jacket.

I demurred, but she insisted. So I sheepishly asked for a discount on a jacket that was not on sale. The shop clerk looked stunned.

Later, at a bar with a caseful of glittering pastries, she pointed at a pretty little ricotta-filled number. “Ask if it is fresh!” she kept insisting.

Reluctantly I did.

“Of course it’s fresh, signora,” the barista said with an offended look in his eye that his extreme politesse could not hide. “It is our specialty.”

The experiences reminded me of a time at a business dinner when I was called upon to translate dirty Italian jokes into English. Stutter. Blush. Torture.

Have you ever been pressured to translate words you’d rather not say?

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