所謂的辦公室，無處不在
“Where’s your office, amai (mother)?” the phone card vendor asks as I stride toward a shopping mall in eastern Zimbabwe, my laptop slung over my shoulder.[1]
I stop to think for a second. Office? I don’t have one.
The last time I worked in a real office was nearly 10 years ago at the headquarters of a news agency in Paris. Computers were sprinkled over desks like ungainly confetti, colleagues ordered “recasts” and “wraps” as coolly as if they were milkshakes, and the graceful Place de la Bourse was several floors below.[2]
Before that, my office was the dark newsroom of the International Herald Tribune in Neuilly-sur-Seine, where, fresh out of university, I distributed photocopies of that day’s paper layout and dreamed of a swashbuckling future.[3]
When in 2000 I met the man I’d marry just six months later, my life—and my subsequent offices—changed beyond recognition.
As freelancers in Southern Africa, we learned to set up makeshift workrooms, my beau and I, in many places.[4] Like that dingy cafe on the Mozambican border.[5] It had lurid flowery lampshades and greasy toast but—joy of joys!—a large flat-screen TV showing CNN.[6]
Or the living room of a flat we rented once. It had posters of dolphins on the walls, which were cardboard-thin: When I washed our linen in the bathtub, I could hear the answering slap-slap of my neighbor doing her own laundry a few inches from my nose.[7] We hung duvets round the stairwell to create a soundproof booth for my husband’s radio recordings.[8]
Living with a fellow writer has its advantages: As deadline approaches, you can fact-check[9] in his (much more detailed) diary. He’s also more likely to understand when you say: “Sorry, I didn’t make dinner tonight: There was an election.”
Often my husband worked in the car, notebook balanced on the dashboard[10]. Once, in a particularly tense situation in a Southern African country, we approached a police roadblock. This was at a time when writers were viewed with distrust. With horror, I realized a scribbled radio script was in full view.[11]
I ate it. It was a small piece of paper, not much bigger than a shopping receipt. I can now truthfully say I have swallowed the news whole.
Internet coverage is sporadic[12] here in Zimbabwe. These days, broadband is gaining ground in the capital, Harare, but it can cost hundreds of dollars to install.[13]
For some time, we relied on an antiquated[14] connection through a phone line. Mostly it worked, except when marauding vervet monkeys disconnected the wires.[15]
Fortunately, we had friends who put up with us appearing regularly with flash drives, dictaphones, and anguished cries of, “The Internet’s not working!”[16]
We signed up excitedly when wireless communication was finally introduced, but there was one problem: The only place with a strong cellphone signal in the tin-roofed[17] cottage we lived in was the bathroom.
It’s not easy to balance a laptop on the side of a strawberry-pink bathtub. Trust me though: It can be done.
This morning, I’m mulling plot points for a work of fiction.[18] I need a place I can call my office for an hour or two.
“I’ll be in the restaurant opposite the gift shop,” I tell the phone card vendor. She’s seen me buy the government-controlled newspaper so often that she’s given me a nickname: Mai Herald (Mrs. Herald). Just like a real office colleague might. “You coming, too?”
Vocabulary
1. vendor: 售賣者;stride: 大步行走;Zimbabwe: 津巴布韋，非洲南部一國家;laptop: 筆記本電腦;sling: 吊，懸掛。
2. 電腦如難看的五彩紙屑般散布在桌子上，同事們要求“換演員”和“停機”時冷漠得仿佛它們是泡沫牛奶，而美麗的交易所廣場就在幾層樓之下。recast: 改變(劇中角色的)演員選派;wrap: 拍攝完成，停機。
3. newsroom:(報社、電臺等的)資訊編輯室;International Herald Tribune: 《國際先驅論壇報》，是美國《紐約時報》于1887年創(chuàng)建的一份英文國際性報紙，總部設在巴黎;Neuilly-sur-Seine: 巴黎一家知名酒店;photocopy: 影印本;layout: 版面的設計;swashbuckling: 神氣活現(xiàn)的。
4. freelancer: 自由作家;makeshift: 權宜的，臨時代用的;beau: 〈主美〉男友。
5. dingy: 昏暗骯臟的;Mozambican: (非洲國家)莫桑比克的。
6. lurid: 慘白的;lampshade: 燈罩;greasy: 油膩的。
7. linen: 亞麻制品;bathtub: 浴缸;slap-slap: 拍擊聲。
8. duvet: 羽絨被;stairwell: 樓梯間;soundproof: 隔音的;booth: 小間。
9. fact-check: 實地調(diào)查。
10. dashboard: 汽車等的儀表板。
11. scribbled: 潦草寫就的;script: 手稿。
12. sporadic: 零星的，少見的。
13. broadband: 寬帶;gain ground: 發(fā)展，普及;Harare: 哈拉雷，津巴布韋首都。
14. antiquated: 陳舊的。
15. maraude: 劫掠，襲擊;vervet monkey: 黑長尾猴，一種體小、尾長的非洲猴。
16. flash drive: 閃存驅動器;dictaphone: 錄音電話機;anguished: 苦惱的。
17. tin-roofed: 鐵皮屋頂?shù)摹?/p>
18. mull: 思索，思考;plot: 情節(jié)。
“Where’s your office, amai (mother)?” the phone card vendor asks as I stride toward a shopping mall in eastern Zimbabwe, my laptop slung over my shoulder.[1]
I stop to think for a second. Office? I don’t have one.
The last time I worked in a real office was nearly 10 years ago at the headquarters of a news agency in Paris. Computers were sprinkled over desks like ungainly confetti, colleagues ordered “recasts” and “wraps” as coolly as if they were milkshakes, and the graceful Place de la Bourse was several floors below.[2]
Before that, my office was the dark newsroom of the International Herald Tribune in Neuilly-sur-Seine, where, fresh out of university, I distributed photocopies of that day’s paper layout and dreamed of a swashbuckling future.[3]
When in 2000 I met the man I’d marry just six months later, my life—and my subsequent offices—changed beyond recognition.
As freelancers in Southern Africa, we learned to set up makeshift workrooms, my beau and I, in many places.[4] Like that dingy cafe on the Mozambican border.[5] It had lurid flowery lampshades and greasy toast but—joy of joys!—a large flat-screen TV showing CNN.[6]
Or the living room of a flat we rented once. It had posters of dolphins on the walls, which were cardboard-thin: When I washed our linen in the bathtub, I could hear the answering slap-slap of my neighbor doing her own laundry a few inches from my nose.[7] We hung duvets round the stairwell to create a soundproof booth for my husband’s radio recordings.[8]
Living with a fellow writer has its advantages: As deadline approaches, you can fact-check[9] in his (much more detailed) diary. He’s also more likely to understand when you say: “Sorry, I didn’t make dinner tonight: There was an election.”
Often my husband worked in the car, notebook balanced on the dashboard[10]. Once, in a particularly tense situation in a Southern African country, we approached a police roadblock. This was at a time when writers were viewed with distrust. With horror, I realized a scribbled radio script was in full view.[11]
I ate it. It was a small piece of paper, not much bigger than a shopping receipt. I can now truthfully say I have swallowed the news whole.
Internet coverage is sporadic[12] here in Zimbabwe. These days, broadband is gaining ground in the capital, Harare, but it can cost hundreds of dollars to install.[13]
For some time, we relied on an antiquated[14] connection through a phone line. Mostly it worked, except when marauding vervet monkeys disconnected the wires.[15]
Fortunately, we had friends who put up with us appearing regularly with flash drives, dictaphones, and anguished cries of, “The Internet’s not working!”[16]
We signed up excitedly when wireless communication was finally introduced, but there was one problem: The only place with a strong cellphone signal in the tin-roofed[17] cottage we lived in was the bathroom.
It’s not easy to balance a laptop on the side of a strawberry-pink bathtub. Trust me though: It can be done.
This morning, I’m mulling plot points for a work of fiction.[18] I need a place I can call my office for an hour or two.
“I’ll be in the restaurant opposite the gift shop,” I tell the phone card vendor. She’s seen me buy the government-controlled newspaper so often that she’s given me a nickname: Mai Herald (Mrs. Herald). Just like a real office colleague might. “You coming, too?”
Vocabulary
1. vendor: 售賣者;stride: 大步行走;Zimbabwe: 津巴布韋，非洲南部一國家;laptop: 筆記本電腦;sling: 吊，懸掛。
2. 電腦如難看的五彩紙屑般散布在桌子上，同事們要求“換演員”和“停機”時冷漠得仿佛它們是泡沫牛奶，而美麗的交易所廣場就在幾層樓之下。recast: 改變(劇中角色的)演員選派;wrap: 拍攝完成，停機。
3. newsroom:(報社、電臺等的)資訊編輯室;International Herald Tribune: 《國際先驅論壇報》，是美國《紐約時報》于1887年創(chuàng)建的一份英文國際性報紙，總部設在巴黎;Neuilly-sur-Seine: 巴黎一家知名酒店;photocopy: 影印本;layout: 版面的設計;swashbuckling: 神氣活現(xiàn)的。
4. freelancer: 自由作家;makeshift: 權宜的，臨時代用的;beau: 〈主美〉男友。
5. dingy: 昏暗骯臟的;Mozambican: (非洲國家)莫桑比克的。
6. lurid: 慘白的;lampshade: 燈罩;greasy: 油膩的。
7. linen: 亞麻制品;bathtub: 浴缸;slap-slap: 拍擊聲。
8. duvet: 羽絨被;stairwell: 樓梯間;soundproof: 隔音的;booth: 小間。
9. fact-check: 實地調(diào)查。
10. dashboard: 汽車等的儀表板。
11. scribbled: 潦草寫就的;script: 手稿。
12. sporadic: 零星的，少見的。
13. broadband: 寬帶;gain ground: 發(fā)展，普及;Harare: 哈拉雷，津巴布韋首都。
14. antiquated: 陳舊的。
15. maraude: 劫掠，襲擊;vervet monkey: 黑長尾猴，一種體小、尾長的非洲猴。
16. flash drive: 閃存驅動器;dictaphone: 錄音電話機;anguished: 苦惱的。
17. tin-roofed: 鐵皮屋頂?shù)摹?/p>
18. mull: 思索，思考;plot: 情節(jié)。
