Google-translate

A few weeks ago, I wrote a column in which I complained about being forced to write fewer words than usual. As a protest, I then petulantly switched to more concise languages, including teenage Twitterspeak, aboriginal Australian and also, in some places where my column was published, Hebrew. How did I obtain the Hebrew? I Google-Translated my own lines.

Before heading into the camera shop, I Google-Translated the appropriate photography-related vocabulary and figured out how to describe what we needed.

I had no clue what he was talking about, but as we were by the Wi-Fi Wall I Google-Translated it on my phone and it turned out he was asking me to go to the teenage disco on Friday night!

There was a letter inside, a Google-translated message in Ukrainian asking Slava L. to provide me and my party with pot in Uman. I had not asked the stoned guy to do this, but it had seemed impolite to refuse the note. He’d gone to the trouble of Google-translating it back and forth several times, as if by this process the translation of the pot request might be incrementally refined.

I Google-translated the lyrics, thinking maybe the story would help me remember, but there’s no story at all.

Probably every old city in Italy has a Via del Corso. Without Google-translating it, I’d just call it Main Street, a principal artery through the city center, often with limited or no auto traffic.

She spent hours on Wikipedia, wading through blogs, posting to forums and google-translating pages and pages of Cyrillic, trying to understand how the Russkaya Mafiya worked.

A lot of what I was looking at came up in Italian. I google-translated it.

The piece had been published four months ago. I google-translated and lucked out with relative readability.