Both John and I have become addicted to the Irish newspapers, of which there are seemingly endless varieties. The one I’ve purchased for two days in a row is a large tabloid-style rag called Daily Irish Mail, and there’s a large banner across the top that says WHY PAY €1.70 FOR THE INDEPENDENT? (The Mail is 70 cents).
The news — not only what’s considered news, but how it’s reported — is enormously fascinating. There’s an ongoing story that typically consumes the front page regarding a murder trial that’s winding down. The case itself appears similar to the Lacy Peterson case from California several years ago. A woman disappeared, and was later found murdered. Her husband had been having an affair. His alibi is impossible to confirm, his story unraveling. New revelations from the testimony, along with pictorials and featurettes, come out every day.
Another ongoing story is Posh Spice’s invasion of Los Angeles and American culture. The consensus seems to be that she’s an older, more vulgar Paris Hilton, but they can’t get enough of her. Today there’s a photo spread featuring enlarged images of unsightly sagging flesh on her calves.
Speaking of Paris, yesterday there was an entire spread devoted to her out walking her dog in L.A.
Yet another ‘feature’ was on an aging Wonderbra model who had a baby and got her boobs back. Complete with pictures, of course.
If this sounds like tabloid journalism, it is. But mixed in with it are actual news stories about finance, politics, sports, etc. There are more strait-laced publications, but even these seem to place the emphasis on sensationalism and story-telling rather than the traditional ‘who what when where why’ type news piece.
In a way, I like it. I like the way it plays with notions of truth and language. Opinions are seldom kept out of news items. Facts are gotten to later than sooner. It’s somehow less insidious than American news’ parroting of company lines, such as the recent effort to brand every strain of Iraqi resistance/insurgency as ‘Al Qaeda.’
I remember reading Irish papers which were full of sensationalism, sexy pics of the ladies and celebrity gossip.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I hope you celebrate it up in Ireland. The Irish’s Forte is in celebration;) I have some pics I will e-mail you for your b-day present. They are from our US trip. I’m waiting for Caleb to scan them for me at work.
Oh, how I wish you’d understand Slovenian enough to read our newspapers. Maybe on our next visit. 😉
thanks sarah! look forward to seeing those pics… i still have some, too.
tina, someday we’ll sit laughing together over the slovenian news. can’t wait.
I have to admit feeling a bit guilty: I’m here reading your and Tina’s blogs while you are downstairs with your classmates writing your midterm essay. Can the trip be half done already?
I’ve enjoyed reading through your posts on Ireland, and I hope it has been what you and everyone else had hoped. We love it here, and would hate to hear of someone being disappointed.
Tomorrow, though, will knock everyone’s head off. I swear I’ve seen “little people” among the ferns and waterfalls at Gougane Barra.
i’m having fun, though it’s definitely not what i had expected. i’m really disoriented, still. i guess that’s part of exploring self-identity / cultural conflict?
D, I’m curious to hear more about this disorientedness (Not sure that’s a “real” word, but you know what i mean.) and other things you mention.
For instance, I’d like to hear how it compares to your experience in Slovenia (I know your stay in Ireland will be longer than the one in Slovenia was, but can some comparisons still be made?). Did you feel like you belonged here more because I was here (and your now-family)? How has/does (not) speaking the language influence/d your stay here and there?
I find it interesting that we’re in different places now, but are (I think) sort of dealing with the same issues. I feel dislocated and confused about what home is or is supposed to be, for example. You know?
Can’t wait to talk about all these things in person. Miss you. -t
Tina, this is a lot. I don’t know if I can begin to answer this. Slovenia is both more open to me — because I was constantly moving through it with natives — and more closed — because I know nothing of the language or culture except what I’ve picked up from you. Irish culture is a ‘known quantity,’ which in a way makes it even more difficult to grasp, or at least experience with an open mind. Likewise, speaking American English gives one the illusion of sharing a language, though I don’t think that’s really the case.
As for your feelings about home, I understand that too. I’ve been away from home for a long, long time. I never felt I belonged, and I can never really go back. I think we all experience the condition of exile — it’s pretty universal. But your feeling must be extreme right now…
Perhaps “home” for us in this age is dislocation.
Or, as my homie (pun intended) Rushdie says in his essay on the Wizard of Oz, there is no such place as home, except the one we make for ourselves. (I wish I had the book here because he says it much better than I just paraphrased.)
Home is that place where you can sit in your underwear and watch out the window the trees sway in the breeze while you read a very long and rich book about olives in Cyprus.