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Sep 24, 2019 (posted viaProZ.com): At present I am working on a personal project--writing a series of historical fantasy books for middle grade readers--and also seeking translation work that falls in my area of expertise....more »
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Spanish to English: El Informe Muller General field: Art/Literary Detailed field: Poetry & Literature
Source text - Spanish Los kilómetros se iban sucediendo veloces bajo los neumáticos del Citroën DS. El coche se adentró en el corazón de la República Federal, en dirección a Frankfurt. Cerca de la ciudad, Oughton propuso parar para repostar combustible y tomar algo. El día seguía gris y lluvioso, cubierto con unas nubes tan bajas que casi se podían tocar. Los dos hombres entraron en una cafetería adyacente a la estación de servicio, ocuparon una mesa y pidieron al camarero dos tazas de café solo. Cuando las hubo traído, Trevor-Roper se dirigió al americano.
—Cuénteme algo sobre usted. Dijo a Sinclair que su madre es austriaca, ¿no es cierto?
—Así es. Emigró a Estados Unidos con mis abuelos a principios de siglo. Se instalaron cerca de Chicago. Allí conoció a mi padre y se casaron. Yo nací pocos días antes de la entrada de Estados Unidos en la Gran Guerra. Mis abuelos y ella me hablaron siempre en alemán, así que lo aprendí a la vez que el inglés.
—¿Y cómo llegó a convertirse en un agente de la CIA?
—Pues verá, eso no estaba en el guión. Mi padre era relojero. Y el padre de mi padre también. Y mi bisabuelo. Toda mi familia paterna han sido relojeros, y mi casa estaba llena de herramientas antiguas, de los tiempos de la Guerra de la Independencia, por lo menos. A mí me encantan los relojes, ¿sabe? Cuando volvía de la escuela iba al taller de mi padre y de mi abuelo y me perdía durante horas entre los relojes. Cuando me hice mayor mi padre me enseñó a desmontarlos, a limpiarlos y a encontrar averías. Yo quería trabajar en el taller con ellos, pero mis padres me obligaron a ir a la universidad y me matriculé en ingeniería en el Illinois Institute of Technology. Sin embargo el tiempo corría en mi contra. A mediados de 1942 vino un día a casa un militar. Me buscaba a mí. Mi padre le dijo que estaba en la universidad y se presentó en el campus. Me dijo que tenía que dejar la universidad durante un tiempo porque debía alistarme. Yo me quedé de una pieza porque pensaba que los universitarios seríamos los últimos en ser llamados a filas. Pero aquel hombre no me quería para ir a pegar tiros a los japoneses. Me llevaron a Maryland y me dijeron que me iban a adiestrar para incorporarme a algo denominado la Oficina de Servicios Estratégicos, la OSS. Por entonces yo no lo sabía, pero la OSS era el servicio secreto que acababa de crear el presidente Roosevelt y que tiempo después se convertiría en la CIA. Cuando terminó mi adiestramiento me llevaron a trabajar a Suiza, y allí conocí a Allen Dulles.
—¿El actual director de la CIA?
—El mismo. Durante la guerra, Dulles era el responsable de la inteligencia americana en Suiza. Tiempo después pasé a contraespionaje con James Angleton. Y desde entonces la situación no ha cambiado. Han pasado trece años, y nunca he regresado al Illinois Institute of Technology, ni creo que lo haga ya. Aunque sigo esperando el día en que pueda volver a los relojes. —Oughton estiró el brazo y observó su reloj de pulsera—. Eso nadie podrá evitarlo. Algún día me retiraré, ¿no?
—Supongo pues que su reloj debe de ser de primera —dijo el historiador.
Oughton sonrió. Los halagos hacia sus relojes constituían las únicas muestras de vanidad que se permitía sin ruborizarse.
—Es un Breitling Cadette. —Oughton se desabrochó la correa y mostró la pieza al historiador—. En general prefiero los modelos con las esferas limpias, sin segunderos ni calendarios. Éste es de remonte manual, de cuerda. La mayoría de mis relojes son automáticos pero éste en concreto es de cuerda.
Trevor-Roper devolvió el reloj a Oughton.
—¿Y qué me puede decir del mío?
—Me fijé en él ayer mismo, cuando le conocí. Es un Girard-Perregaux, también mecánico, calibre veinticinco. Parece que está hecho en níquel.
—Caramba, ¿es capaz de decir todo eso sin haberlo visto antes?
El historiador se quitó el reloj y se lo entregó al agente de la CIA, quien tuvo la ocasión de examinarlo de cerca ignorando los halagos de su compañero.
—Es una pieza excelente. Aunque a mí las cajas cuadradas no me terminan de gustar. Me parecen más incómodas.
—Apuesto a que usted es capaz de definir a una persona por el reloj que lleva.
Oughton rio.
—Eso es imposible amigo mío —dijo mientras devolvía el reloj a Trevor-Roper—. Nadie puede hacerlo. La gente lleva en la muñeca o en el bolsillo relojes que no han elegido por sí mismos. En la mayoría de los casos son regalos.
—En este caso tiene usted razón. Este reloj me lo regalaron unos alumnos en su ceremonia de graduación.
—Y muchos otros son regalos de boda.
Trevor-Roper volvió a sacar del bolsillo su pipa, aunque en esta ocasión introdujo un montoncito de tabaco en su interior y la encendió.
—Curiosa afición la suya —dijo aspirando el humo.
Translation - English The kilometers went by quickly beneath the pneumatics of the Citroën DS. The car entered into the heart of the Federal Republic, in the direction of Frankfurt. Close to the city, Oughton proposed stopping to refuel and drink something. The day was still gray and rainy, covered with clouds so low they could almost be touched. The two men entered a café adjacent to the service station, took a table and asked the waiter for two cups of black coffee. When he had brought them, Trevor-Roper addressed the American.
—Tell me something about yourself. You told Sinclair that your mother is Austrian, is that so?
—So it is. She emigrated to the United States with my grandparents at the turn of the century. They settled close to Chicago. There she met my father and they were married. I was born a few days before the entrance of the United States in the Great War. She and my grandparents always spoke to me in German, so I learned it alongside English.
—And how was it you came to be an agent of the CIA?
—Well, you see, that wasn’t in the script. My father was a watchmaker. And my father’s father, too. And my great grandfather. My whole family on my father’s side has been watchmakers, and my house was full of antique tools, from the times of the War of Independence, at least. I love watches, you know? When I’d come home from school I’d go to my father and grandfather’s workshop and lose myself for hours among the watches. When I grew older my father taught me to take them apart, to clean them and find faults. I wanted to work in the shop with them, but my parents made me go to college and I enrolled in engineering at the Illinois Institute of Technology. But time wasn’t on my side. One day in mid-1942 a military man came to the house. He was looking for me. My father told him I was at the university and he showed up on campus. He told me I had to leave the university for awhile because I had to enlist. I was shocked because I thought that university students would be the last to be called to serve. But that man didn’t want me to go take shots at the Japanese. They took me to Maryland and they told me that they were going to train me in order to incorporate me into something called the Office of Strategic Services, the OSS. At the time I didn’t know it, but the OSS was the secret service that President Roosevelt had just created, which sometime later would become the CIA. When my training was finished they took me to work in Switzerland, and there I met Allen Dulles.
—The current director of the CIA?
—That’s the one. During the war, Dulles was responsible for American intelligence in Switzerland. Sometime later I went into counterespionage with James Angleton. And since then the situation hasn’t changed. Thirteen years have passed, and I’ve never gone back to the Illinois Institute of Technology, nor do I think I will anymore. Though I still wait for the day when I can get back to the watches. —Oughton stretched his arm and looked at the watch on his wrist—. No one can prevent that. Someday I’ll retire, no?
—I suppose then that your watch must be top notch? said the historian.
Oughton smiled. Flattery toward his watches constituted the only shows of vanity that he allowed himself without blushing.
It’s a Breitling Cadette. —Oughton unbuckled the strap and showed the piece to the historian—. In general I prefer models with a clean face, without second hands or calendars. This one is a manual wind, with a spring. Most of my watches are automatic but this one in particular is a manual.
Trevor-Roper returned the watch to Oughton.
—And what can you tell me about mine?
—I noticed it yesterday, when I met you. It’s a Girard-Perregaux, also mechanical, twenty-five caliber. It looks to be made of nickel.
—My, my! You’re able to tell all of that without having seen it before?
The historian took off the watch and gave it to the CIA agent, who had a chance to examine it closely, ignoring the flatteries of his companion.
—It’s an excellent piece. Though I myself am not too sure about square cases. They strike me as more uncomfortable.
—I’d bet you’re able to judge a man by the watch he wears.
Oughton laughed.
—That is impossible my friend —he said as he returned the watch to Trevor-Roper—. No one can do that. People carry watches on their wrists or in their pockets that they haven’t chosen for themselves. In a majority of cases they are gifts.
Trevor-Roper took his pipe back out of his pocket, although on this occasion he inserted a small amount of tobacco into its interior and lit it.
—A curious penchant, yours—he said inhaling the smoke.
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An American residing in southern Mexico since the age of 22 (14 years now), I am now completely fluent in both Spanish and Mexican culture. I was highly successful throughout my liberal arts education and my passion for words, reading and writing makes translating a job that stirs my passions at their core. That is why I do it well!
Keywords: English, Spanish, Mexico, culture, travel, blog, education, homeschooling, anthropology, archaeology. See more.English, Spanish, Mexico, culture, travel, blog, education, homeschooling, anthropology, archaeology, history, social science, political science, humanities, poetry, fiction, literature, tradition, music. See less.
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