I posted to a light-hearted blog called Fucked Translation over on Blogger from 2007 to 2016, when I was often in Barcelona. Its original subtitle was “What happens when Spanish institutions and businesses give translation contracts to relatives or to some guy in a bar who once went to London and only charges 0.05€/word.” I never actually did much Spanish-English translation (most of my work is from Dutch, French and German) but I was intrigued and amused by the hubristic Spanish belief, then common, that nepotism and quality went hand in hand, and by the nemeses that inevitably followed.
No translations at all here, not even for Spanish-speaking residents. That Ripoll’s romanesque is of international renown is not of the slightest interest to the peasant ethnocrats in charge of the town and its tourism.
Sounds like the place is under military administration: Vilafranca is an open and welcoming town. From this permanently opened window that our web site offers to us, I want to welcome you to Vilafranca. Marcel Esteve i RobertMajor of Vilafranca del Penedès The whole translation is gibberish, whichever way you look through Major Marcel’s window.
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