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What age were you when you knew you wanted to become a translator?

This question came out of the blue in Twitter a few days ago and made me realise that my fascination for the job had come rather earlier than the norm prescribes.

My parents have often mentioned the image of a child who was either lying on the floor reading anything I could lay my hands on or climbing to the highest peak of everything in sight. (I do remember climbing on the furniture on many occasions!)

We lived next to a highly prestigious institution in the town “La Escuela de Traductores de Toledo”. This was the very first School of translators in Spain and where the first ever  translation from Arabic into Latin was  undertaken. My grandad took me there a few times to instruct me on the importance of language, cultures and knowledge. I must have been around six when I first entered that magical place. The last time was two years ago while participating in a Translation conference.  One of the highlights of the conference took place in that very building. A poetry reading led by a Moroccan poet in Arabic, an Israeli in Ladino (the form of Hebrew spoken in Spain during centuries of Jewish settlement) and a Mexican author via video-link from the USA. I can still feel the goosebumps!

But I digress; the seed for the love of the word had already been truly planted. My parents lived in the Jewish quarter of the town -which included the Synagogue and the house of the Painter "El Greco". Both were fascinating places for me and I used to spend ages in there, running around and listening to the visiting tourists. I acquainted many of them by offering a free -and very unconventional tour. It must have looked odd to the astounded visitors to see a child as a tour guide -I had a ball though! On one occasion, a  Japanese couple asked me where I lived and insisted on taking me home. I was most excited. They asked my mother if I was up for adoption (not sure whether they wished to take me away with them or  make my mother feel guilty for letting me roam the streets on my own talking to complete strangers –very different times then.

I moved schools to the new part of town and the museum trips stopped. I still had the library though -and the escapades to the main square  in search of the tourists who would provide me with the necessary practice in French (started at my first school) and in my newly acquired language: English. This exercise soon started to pay off. I was in high demand from my peers to help  in class and with homework. My pool of friends increased day by day. Best of all, my English teachers loved me –I was not a swot really, I simply loved English. By the time I was in 4th grade (year 4) I had already acquired a very good reputation. I was mostly required to assist with song lyrics and films. I still remember going on a school trip to Madrid to see the original version of My Fair Lady (to this day my favourite film) Everyone kept asking me to explain this or that.

One day the following year,  my favourite person at school, a very tall and rotund nun with rosy cheeks and a permanent smile (the spitting image of Whoopi Goldberg's nun friend in Sister Act), came to the class and asked if I could be excused -I know, a very long time ago! She had a pile of yellow sheets of paper in her hand and told me that someone had sent her this very important piece of new research into how Mozart's music influences babies' behaviour. I was intrigued as to why she would want to share such information with an 11 year old.  All became clear when she told me that the said research was in English and she could not understand a word of it. Why she didn't ask the teachers I will never know but the fact is that she needed ME to work on it and give her an idea of what it said. I was astounded! Little me was going to do this very important job for Hermana Espíritu Santo. Apparently she had requested my granddad's permission to ask me -he was the school's accountant, and offered me a small remuneration. She was going to give me 30 pesetas (in those days three weeks' worth of pocket money!)

And that was it. My first paid job.

The best thing about it was that I never forgot the advice given on the research. It has been absolutely invaluable in raising both my children. Not only I have had the quietest, most contented babies in town but also the most musical.

Mozart worked for me in mysterious ways!