Caption Contest
In an article I wrote more than ten years ago about translators of Japanese literature, I quoted Edward Seidensticker, Harvard professor and translator of the classic “Tale of Genji” who said, “a translation should be as transparent as water.” Meaning the original essence of the work should be visible to the reader, not obscured by the translator’s language. I thought it was a beautiful description.
At about the time I wrote the article, shortly before we moved to Austria from Japan, some earnest people came to my door and gave me the pamphlet below. Since then it has hung on my office wall above my PC and I would glance at it occasionally wondering what the Japanese on the cover means. I cleaned my office yesterday and took it down, but I’m putting it up here in the hopes that you will have a guess at what the translation could be.
What’s your guess?

Alpha and I were discussing how to celebrate our fifteenth wedding anniversary, which is approaching. Without going into detail, it is a hard-earned anniversary and we deserve something nice. Our definitions of “nice” diverge somewhat, though, and there are the usual budget constraints. At the moment we’re seeking a compromise between drinking a lot of Guinness at a session at an Irish pub in Vienna, and a night at a wellness hotel in southern Austria, an area called “Austrian Tuscany”. I’m not saying who is voting for which alternative.

One possible compromise we considered briefly was to spend a few nasty hours at the Hotel Orient with a bottle of champagne and another bottle of Viagra. The Hotel Orient is considered Vienna’s finest Stundenhotel. The German word “Stundenbuch” is translated as “Book of Hours” so I will translate “Stundenhotel” as “Hotel of Hours”. It’s a plush, kitschy, place where managers take their secretaries or otherwise illicit lovers meet for a few nasty hours with a bottle of champagne and/or Viagra.

The hotel has a website, which I don’t think is very good, although the room tour application is kind of neat and seemed to load fast for me. It lets you pan around the rooms, and even up to the ceiling, which usually have a mirror.

We looked at the site. We loaded the app and I was panning around the first room. “That’s the lobby,” Alpha said.
I looked at her.
She looked at me.
“I mean, that looks like it could be the lobby,” she said.
“Nice save,” I said.

Please put any suggestions for spending a fifteenth anniversary into the suggestion box below. Thanks in advance.

As every day, I thought up a great post driving to work this morning, then forgot it again. Melly’s being nice to me in an IM window I have open here, which makes me feel old. I have to mow the lawn tonight, I haven’t mowed it yet all year, and it’s incredibly long lush. But, it’s Friday. Finally.

Cello was interesting last night. I’m trying to learn this Bach menuett. It is one that is so famous that even I am familiar with it, so I know roughly what it should sound like. The teacher totally picked apart everything I did last night. Which is progress, because I used to be so bad there was no point in doing that.

Bowing right is hard, man.

Also people stared at me yesterday just because I was playing a tin whistle in my car at the light, which is okay.

Phallic issues at Raising Hell today.

A woman got a makeover in the newspaper today to prepare her for a career change. The main difference between the before and after pictures was that she looked more natural in the before picture, and higher-maintenance in the after, with a hairstyle that looks simple but would be harder to set up in the morning than her original, and an odd frilly dress.

Makeovers have always fascinated me, especially the way that the before pictures look better than the after in 8 out of 10 cases; but also the way that a change in style or looks can theoretically totally change the way you look, or your style.

I saw a chubby black guy with a shaved head walking down the street yesterday and thought, there’s a look I could go for. I have short hair (and for some reason Gamma has been trying to talk me into shaving my head lately) and the chubby part would be no problem, but, eh, the plan falls apart when I hit complexion.

But I’ve always wanted a makeover. Someone to pick out clothes that look good on me – and preferably pay for them; someone to advise me on a decent hairstyle and enforce a diet and workout regimen.

Oh well. This idea gets diluted more and more by reality, as I think about it, until I arrive at the same point I do every spring: time to lose 20 pounds. With one difference this year: people actually read Feral Living now – so here’s my request: change my life, suggest a makeover.

Tomorrow is 1 May, labor day here in Austria. It is a national holiday. Most people go on hikes or attend socialist functions. I will do nothing. That is, I will practice the art of nothing.

Oh, wait. It’s Gamma’s fifth birthday and she’s throwing a Princess party! I’ll be stressed out of my gourd! At least I’ll have something to blog about…

[link via Vex]