Local Steps

Location: Budapest
May 25, 2010
Adventure #17

Since coming to Hungary, I have narrowed down my favorite features of traditional folk dancing to two tenets: high kicks and jumps, paired with the ensuing clamorous stomps and the female dancer's spins, which make their white petticoats and floral patterned skirts billow out, forming their body into perfect bell shapes.

Fortunately, the Bihari Janos Folk Dance Ensemble who I had the pleasure of watching last week clomped and twirled enough to fulfill all my fancies. I went to the show "Dance Puts Roses Onto Your Cheeks" to see a new friend named Saci dance. She has been folk dancing for most of her life and her mother is one of Hungary's top folk choreographers, so I got to see both of their talents brought to stage in a springtime performance that featured Pentecost festival numbers along with many courting and wedding scenes.

Normally when I've seen the folk dance, I mainly admire the costuming, especially the colorful aprons, gilded button vests and beautiful ribbons tied into the women's French braids, but thanks to Saci's quick background on the art form, I got to dig in a bit deeper. I started to differentiate between some of Hungary's choreography and costumes and performances from other ethnically Hungarian regions like Transylvania. For instance, Hungarian dances favor graceful movements that emphasize the fullness of their beautiful skirts, whereas Transylvanian dancers don straighter skirts and black boots for both sexes so they can engage in quicker, fancier footwork. Now that I have an inside expert, I hope to continue expanding my knowledge about local flitting.

Going Behind the Curtain

Location: Modern art museums the whole world over

All the time

Adventure #16

With trepidation married with mild curiosity, I part the curtain and skulk inside. The lights are dimmed in the stark white room, and one wall doubles as viewing screen that hosts a looped film with a haunting heart pulsating soundtrack that transport visitors to a tense Hitchcock scene or morose calming melodies that invoke a feeling of floating in a placid pond. If there are voices, they are distorted or eerily whispered. Together, the universal site makes up what I consider the most bizarre fixture of the modern art scene: video installations.

A stable medium of the contemporary avante-garde, video projects are used to recapture important world events or creatively convey a variety of lofty emotions. Recently, I have seem multiple video critiques of capitalism including one about famous Hungarian billionaire George Soros, or another that featured a group of female secretaries singing Abba’s “Money, Money, Money” in a frighteningly catchy round. Other pieces depicted the first Russian rocket launch or environmental degradation of a national European park.

Judging by their intrinsic subjects, these videos could be informative and creative; however, I just find the gallery viewing experience so creepy. From the mysterious soundtracks to the dim, uninviting rooms in which they are broadcast, I hate going to see them. Just once, I’d like to see a positive-themed colorful video work with a soundtrack including anything uplifting, from Stevie Wonder to the Beastie Boys - any siren song that draws me to the exhibit rather than makes me leery enough to keep my distance. If the current generation of artists can inject canvases and photographs with poignant and often humorous subjects, why can’t this talent be transferred to the silver screen? Perhaps I haven’t seen enough of the medium...

However, having to review videos for work has given me inspiration in a peculiar way. I am plotting a murder mystery novel set in an art museum. The crime would have to be committed in a screening room, where the throbbing soundtrack of a film would mask any sounds of a crime or struggle, and should there be any witnesses, it would appear as if it’s part of the show … If this idea transpires into an actual endeavor, never fear, I won’t try and make an artistic video about it.

Bliss

I want to know your language.

So the next time scorn rolls from her crackled acorn eyes

to bread-knife tongue,

marred by lipstick devoured by pursed lips,

I will hear her choice words

and chose my words carefully.

For now, my verbal artillery

contains popgun phrasing of

I don’t

know, understand or speak,

complimented by off-putting pleasantries like

thank you beautifully or lovely weather today.

Then again, I don't want to understand,

why stranger smiles rouse only suspicions

and muttering sighs habitually echoed.

It's better to quiet my voices and beam.

My default of ignorance

is to feign bliss.

On the Waterfront feature

Here is a link to my recently published cover story for Where Budapest:

On the Waterfront

High Culture from the Cheap Seats

Location: Hungarian State Opera House
May 2, 2010
Adventure #15

It is challenging to say, “I think I'll go see an opera,” without adopting a really bad snooty accent. Operas maintain a high-brow connotation, and it is rare that one of my peers attends a show. However, in Europe – land of over-the-top opera houses – everyone deserves to witness their splendor. Luckily, Hungary seems to agree, as they always offer dirt-cheap seats in the upper balcony for mild opera-enthusiasts on a budget, like myself. In fact, it costs far less to buy inexpensive seats for a performance than to take the official tour of the fin de siècle site.

Although I always have obstructed views and have to come in an unadorned side entrance, I love being in the nosebleed section, because I am closer to the opera’s opulent chandeliers and frescoes that bring Greek gods and goddesses to life. This art is as big of a draw as the shows themselves. Also, it’s fun to spy on the people in the private boxes and mezzanine levels to which the balconies directly look. Lastly, it’s good to be in the peon section if I go to a show that I find particularly dull, namely La Traviata last year, because I can leave at intermission and no one is the wiser.

This last month, I bought $2 seats and took my parents to see Sylvia, a ballet. With beautiful sets of a mystical forest and colorful costuming - complete with perky tutus - it actually was a little disappointing not to have a better view. Perhaps I'll splurge for some high-end seats for the next show, but I can't get snooty now.

Look Ma, No Bar!

Location: Buda Hills
May 2, 2010
Adventure #14

It wasn’t until a pair of thimble-sized bumblebees started buzzing around me that I really started to get nervous. If I swatted or tried to scoot away from them, I was certain to fatally plummet to the stumpy ground of the Buda Hills.

After a lovely hike to Budapest’s highest lookout point, my parents and I decided to ride the city’s slow, scenic chairlift back to lower ground. My parents got on the lift first, and I rode solo behind them. Unlike many ski lifts in the states, the safety bar did not automatically come down to rest over my lap and no ski bum pulled it down for me either. Hence, it wasn’t until I was off the boarding platform that I realized I was on the ride without my seat belt securely fastened.

Being of the height-challenged variety, my arms couldn’t reach the bar and pull it over me without some major stretching in my seat, so I just sat still and held on tightly to the arm handle as we rode fifty feet above ground. Up ahead of me, my parents were suffering from the same lack of safeguards, and my mom spent the whole cruise in a white-knuckled state.

Fortunately, when the bees arrived in the middle of the 12-minute journey, I was able to sit without fidgeting as they conducted a thorough physical and rested on my pant legs. Once we were back on solid ground and I rid myself of my yellow and black companions, my mom said she’d finally take me up on the suggestion I’d been offering all week - drinking a shot of palinka.