Eating breakfast at my kitchen table a few days before departure, I gave Jibbigo — the speech-to-speech translator that seemed the most user-friendly on the iPad — a test spin.
“I’m eating French toast,” I said slowly, trying to be clear.
“I need in French toast,” is what Jibbigo transcribed on its screen, which then spoke in a sultry female voice: “Necesito frances en tostada.”
I shushed my kids, who were watching SpongeBob, and turned down the TV — I’d read that background noise really threw speech-to-speech translators off. Once it was silent, I again pushed the red “record” button on the screen. “I am eating French toast,” I said, even more slowly and with as much enunciation as I could muster.
“All right and even French toast,” Jibbigo transcribed on its screen. “Está bien incluso y pan tostado frances,” said Sultry Voice.
“Noooo!” Now my kids began laughing at me and Jibbigo.
One of my sons grabbed the iPad. “Mom, are you cutting pears in the kitchen?” he said through the app to his mother, who was indeed cutting pears in the kitchen. “Are you hiding Harrods in the kitchen?” wrote Jibbigo, which Sultry Voice dutifully said in a bizarre game of mistranslation-down-the-lane.
By then, my kids were hysterical. I grabbed the iPad back, pressed the red button and shouted, “Go get dressed and ready for school!”
“Do you just ready for school?” translated Jibbigo. “Solo la lista para la escuela?” said the voice.
“Ahhhhhh!”
Needless to say, I was not particularly optimistic about the utility of a speech-to-speech translator during my journeys through the wine regions of Ribera del Duero and Toro. But I was determined to give it a try.
My first chance to use the app — once I’d gotten off the plane and through customs with a mere “Buenos dias” — was at the rental car counter. As I approached it, I spoke slowly to Jibbigo. “I have reserved a rental car for Mr. Wilson,” I said.
“I have reserved a rental car for Mr. Wilson,” transcribed Jibbigo. “He reservado un coche de alquiler para el Senor Wilson,” purred the sultry voice.
Okay! I thought. Here we go! Maybe I’d misjudged Jibbigo. Maybe this was all going to work out fine! Reaching the counter, I hit play.
“Yeah, we have that reservation,” said the young woman behind the counter. In English. She raised an eyebrow at me. “And no worries, sir. I speak English at a high level.”
In fact, in most interactions with tourist-service people — hotel clerks, taxi drivers, cashiers — a speech-to-speech translator was sort of unnecessary. Basic, polite high-school Spanish worked just fine. Jibbigo usually just complicated matters.
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