Celebrity

I don’t watch TV, because the amount of trash on it strongly outweighs anything actually worth watching. Especially if you consider that a lot of what’s shown is sports, none of which I will watch unless it involves horses (except for the occasional Olympic event).

Of course we had a television in our hotel room in Vienna, so Ross wanted to catch up on her MTV (which we don’t get at home in Lecco). Unfortunately, they were running a full weekend of The Osbournes. I had read about this show a while ago in a New York Times article, and, as with many, er, cultural trends, glancing at the headlines on Google News has been sufficient to keep me up to date (if that were needed). Actually seeing the show, I found that ten minutes of Ozzy’s extremely limited vocabulary was more than enough; the man is apparently unable to form a single sentence that doesn’t involve the word “fuck.”

That, plus some other stuff on MTV about Justin and Britney and Christina, made me wonder: who are these “experts” who get interviewed about celebritys’ lives, how did they get to be so “expert,” and aren’t they embarassed to be considered such? Would you want your obituary to read: “Was frequently interviewed about Britney Spears’ love life” ?

I don’t understand the celebrity cult in the first place. We seem to believe that by seeing or touching someone famous, or getting their autograph, or owning something they once owned or touched, some sort of magic is passed to us, making us a little less ordinary, a little more special, like them. This is very similar to the cults of saints and holy people in some religions. Surely there’s an anthropology dissertation in that somewhere…

Dancing Horses: The Lipizzaner Stallions

For Easter vacation we went to Vienna. There’s so much to do there that we barely got started; we’ll definitely have to go again.

The highlight of the trip, fulfilling a 30-year dream for me, was seeing the Lipizzaner stallions perform at the Spanische Hofreitschule. The event fully lived up to my hopes and expectations.

For my non-horsey readers: the Lipizzaners are the famous “dancing” white stallions who perform highly skilled and specialized dressage, in a tradition dating back 400 years.

They generally perform only twice a week, and there aren’t very many places for spectators, so you need to book well in advance – I wandered onto their website in mid-February and snapped up the last three tickets for the Saturday before Easter. The site is confusing; had I realized at the time how much those seats were going to cost, I might not have booked. But then the email confirmation arrived saying that the reservation could not be canceled, so we decided, what the hell – once in a lifetime, it’s bound to be worth it. And it was.

It’s a beautiful show of acrobatics and athletics, but it’s also about the relationship between man and horse. At the Lipizzaner museum and in the show program notes, we learned that riders begin at age 16, first learning to ride on an experienced stallion. After four years or so, when and if he’s judged ready, a rider is given his own young horse to train, which will take another four years. Later still, he will be expected to train other riders and help them train their horses; part of the selection process includes an assessment of the rider’s ability to pass on what he knows. Throughout his career, a rider will be responsible for the same small group of horses ­ ideally, a horse is always ridden by the same rider, for up to 20 years.

So what you see is the result of a long-term partnership in which man and horse know each other very well. So well that the horses appear to perform their magic entirely of their own will ­ the rider’s signals are so subtle that you don’t see him move from his ramrod-straight position in the saddle. The most we observed was a twitch of the heel here and there.

The riders also keep very straight faces, almost never displaying any emotion or even a well-deserved sense of accomplishment. At the end of each exercise, the only sign that anyone’s been working hard (and they have been!) is that the horses are foaming at the mouth and the riders are red in the face.

There was one exception to the poker-face rule, one of the senior riders, who didn’t quite smile, but nonetheless looked kind. And Ross swears that, when his young horse was acting up (slightly) during the show, she saw him giggle. We agreed that he looks like someone you’d want to take riding lessons with.

Unfortunately, that’s a dream that Ross could never live, without a revolution: the Hofreitschule is totally a guy thing. The horses are all stallions, and the riders all men. As far as we could discover, there has never been a female rider. I’ll have to dig a little deeper and see whether the notion has ever crossed anyone’s mind.*

* Aug, 2006 – A reader wrote to point me to an article showing that women do indeed ride Lipizzaners – but in South Africa, not Vienna.

photo above: the performance hall, rightly called the world’s most beautiful manege

Computer Viruses

I’m getting up to 100 emails a day. Most of these are viruses and spam, and are filtered straight into the trash because they are sent to an email address which the spammers have invented or a virus has randomly generated (all mail sent to straughan.com comes to me). Others I see, but they have become obvious and predictable and I delete them with hardly a glance at their contents.

One had a dangerous twist though. At the bottom of the (brief) email it included these lines:

++++ Attachment: No Virus found

++++ Norman AntiVirus – www.norman.com

This is very similar to the standard lines that many anti-virus programs automatically put into incoming email to let you know whether it’s clean or not. I had never heard of Norman anti-virus, and even thought it was a joke, since one of the popular anti-virus packages is from Norton. In any case, my anti-virus is AVG, so I knew this message was spurious. In fact, AVG had added these lines at the true end of the message:

Viruses found in the attached files.

The attached file ou.doc .exe is infected by I-Worm/Netsky.Q. The attachment was moved to the virus vault.”

So… even if a mysterious email with an attachment claims to be clean, don’t trust it. Make sure that it has truly been inspected and passed by your own anti-virus software. And again: NEVER OPEN AN ATTACHMENT THAT YOU’RE NOT EXPECTING TO RECEIVE, NO MATTER WHO IT COMES FROM OR WHAT IT CLAIMS TO BE.

I visited the Norman site, and find that they do indeed make anti-virus software. Since I had never heard of them before, I am tempted to wonder if they are spreading this virus themselves as a publicity stunt. Especially since I’ve just received a very similar email, but with the name of a different virus protection software company, again one I’d never heard of. Hmm.

Another thing to watch out for: spyware.


Then there are viruses whose random text hits below the belt:
“you are a bad writer”
“Let’us be short: you have no experience in writing letters!!!”

July 5, 2004

In light of Microsoft’s ongoing problems with hackers targeting its products, it seems wise to get as far away from Microsoft as possible, within the limits of the fact that many of us need to use Windows for our daily work. Last week’s reports of of a new hack which allows attackers to take control of your computer via Microsoft Internet Explorer finally jolted me into something I’ve been meaning to do for a while: change browsers. I took the advice of the Washington Posts’s tech columnist, and have switched to Mozilla Firefox. So far I find it very similar to IE in look, feel, and behavior, minus the dangers of hackers (for now).

 

Born into It: Why You Can’t Become Italian

Most of the world’s major religions proselytize (for some, it’s a major facet of the faith), and eagerly accept converts. Except Hinduism. Hare Krishnas notwithstanding, you really can’t convert to Hinduism, because it is much more than a set of beliefs and practices. Hinduism is a system that you are born into, a fixed hierarchy of families and castes. You are who you are because of your birth, and nothing can change that. Therefore, logically, anyone born outside the system must forever remain outside.

A non-Hindu can’t become a Hindu.By analogy, I’ve been wondering: can a foreigner become an Italian?

I don’t think so. Not in the same way that an immigrant to America becomes American. I think this has to do with the Italian concept of paese (hometown). You’re born into a paese, you grow up in it, absorbing its cultural and linguistic nuances, its history and traditions. “Italian” isn’t enough to define you; you’ve got to have a paese (and, often, a dialect) as well.

The attachment to paese begins early. Rossella has had trouble finding kids to hang out with after school, because most of her classmates commute to Lecco from smaller towns, where they already have firmly established social circles with whom they spend any leisure time left over from school and family. The frightening part (to me and Ross, anyway) is that, at age 14, they already consider themselves set for life, and will not move outside of their established places and groups unless forced.

They don’t get out, and no outsider (estraneo) gets in. This goes for other Italians as well. Italians who leave their paese to live elsewhere in Italy don’t fit in – they are not part of their new paese of residence, and never will be. One exception is Milan. I recently met an Italian who told me that, when he wanted to return to Italy after years abroad, he deliberately chose Milan as the most welcoming city in Italy, both to foreigners and Italian strangers.

Which is not to say that people in smaller towns are cold, far from it. My experience of the Lecchesi is that they are warm and welcoming and happy to have us here. But we’ll never be Lecchesi.

That’s okay with me. As a third-culture kid, I long ago resigned myself to never fitting in anywhere (except Woodstock). We have friends in Lecco whose company I enjoy, but these days I am expanding my social circles among expatriates. Interestingly, some Italians also seek out opportunities to socialize with expats, because they have themselves lived overseas and, as often happens to travellers from any country, find that they no longer quite fit in when they return “home.”

Apr 27, 2004

This article was widely read and responded to. One interesting thread came up on eGullet (I posted the article there at the invitation of one of the moderators), where some very knowledgeable people discussed the phenomenon in terms of Italian and European history.

Deirdré Straughan on Italy, India, the Internet, the world, and now Australia