Budapest Art and Dance

Strange that I ruminated about "home" and postmodernism the day before yesterday because yesterday was spent in the Ludwig Muzeum and at the Trafo where identity and belonging got the once over by some of the youngest, brightest new artists. Duchamp, oh Duchamp. Would you be proud of your progeny?

K. and I made our way to the Ludwig Muzeum to see the current exhibition called Hataratlepesek or "Crossing Frontiers." As I have written before, I am unconvinced, worse, unmoved by video installations. The most effective artist was Oleg Kulik, who will haunt my dreams. He uses photos and video "to show a symbiosis between man and dog." They eat watermelon together. They play in the fields. They read books. They make love. Yes, oh yes. In full photographic realism. Seriously, I can't get it out of my head. And I am not talking about a cute little puppy.

A cake to steal my nerves at 5:30 and then we were off to the Trafo for a modern dance event. They were showcasing four new choreographers. We stayed for the first two and then went in search of becsiszelet (wiener schnitzel). I would have stayed, but our two guests had had enough. Ouch. If you are in town, catch an event at the Trafo--one of my enduring favorite scenes for modern dance and people watching.

Then it was off on a hunt for a cake shop that was still open past 11:00. We stepped in two or three but nothing felt right. We we headed back to Szent Jupat for turogomboc--huge bready balls of sweet puffy cream-of-wheat, covered in sweetened bread crumbs, drenched in a sour cream sauce, and sprinkled with powdered sugar. Seriously. Usually this dessert is a huge flop. But at Szent Jupat, it is a divine thing. Trust me.

Another Day in Budapest

It was an overcast day yesterday. After a slow food lunch--arugula salad with Parmesanand walnutsfor me and rabbit with paprikas for my two lunch companions, we strolled the city streets. A shop here. The new Apple store. A shoe store. A store devoted to selling those machines that make coffee from those new pods. An art gallery or three. We made our way to my favorite tea shop, 1,000 Teas.

Since my last visit here (maybe more than a year ago) they have entirely renovated. It is still divine. We sat on low cushions. L. had a brief nap. I threw caution to the wind and had a strong Turkish tea with heavy doses of raw sugar crystals. We smoked my first waterpipe, which felt definitely exotic and even slightly illegal. Of course, ala Clinton, I don't inhale. In fact, I am abashed to say that I am constitutionally incapable, thank goodness. Not to mention that my body (thankfully) has no reaction to nicotine. A waterpipe sucks the smoke down into steam before you suck it into your mouth. Very steamy. Loads of hilarious pictures.

After the tea and smoke, we headed to the theater to see Lefele a hegyrol by Arthur Miller. We sat in the front row. L. and I had to move our legs each time an actor crossed the stage. It was a wonderful play skillfully acted. I have no idea what the English title of the play is. But the story involved a Lyman Felt who has two wives. A tricky situation. I loved that on occasion I would catch myself NOT translating and just enjoying the action.

Theater for the brain needs food for the gullet. We headed out thinking that we would haunt one of our favorite bars, the Castro, a Szerb place, on Raday utca about a thirty minute walk. Not a half block from the theater, there it was: the Castro. Since our last trip here the Castro had lost its lease and moved next to the theater! No tourists here. Just important cheap haircuts, scarves, and cigarettes all a dangle during intense conversations about who knows what.

Buda Castle

Overhead:

An American strapped down by camera straps and geared up with sensible shoes and windbreaker, points to the Matyas Templon (the St. Matthew's Church) and asks a passing Hungarian, "Is this the castle?"

The Castle is not a castle. It is a castle region. There are walls. There are many building inside these walls. The church has a spire and looks Gothic enough. But the castle is not one building. It is more than one place at once.

We live just below the castle in a residence established for scholars who are fellows of the Collegium Budapest, which is in the castle. There are about 100,000,003 steps between our apartment door and the Collegium. Luckily the Ruszurm Cafe is next door to the Collegium for a quick cake and espresso to recover from all those stairs.

Last night we were the guests of the Collegium for a special wine dinner. 2 starters, 1 main course, 2 desserts and 8 wines. I tasted each of the wines. Which was the best? Always the previous one, of course!

Yesterday I was going to do so many things, but then: I slept till noon, sweet J. it was a kind of heaven with the birds in the courtyard and no alarm clocks, no place to go, nothing I had to do. Then it was reading/writing till 4. A cake at the Ruszurm and off to the Pest side of Budapest to find our theater tickets for tonight. I had time on my hands before dinner and so I stopped at the Promod on Vaci street and bought some sweaters--very chic--to combat the spring chill. It is one of my favorite chain stores (French, I think). Today I do hope to hit some of the tiny boutiques with Hungarian designers.

I wore one of my new sweaters to dinner. There I learned among other things that growing up in Hungary as a little boy after WW II created a postmodern sense of displacement very different from the sense of homelessness I know from the culture of the States. In the States (beware huge generalization) there is a lack of connection, a restlessness, that drives people to move and reroot themselves over and over, looking for that intangible sense of "home." But if you grew up in a country that took turns accepting and then exiling you, your sense of restlessness and at-home-ness (or lack thereof) is a direct product of your home. In any case, both can produce a person who feels more at home in a foreign land. Or is this the result of culture consciousness? Once you KNOW the formula: sour cream, paprika, onion, beef---can you still relish it? Once you know there are formulae, can you ever be happy knowing that you have chosen one formula? Can you choose more than one and not be trapped in a dual reality?

After dinner we took our friend on a stroll around the Castle grounds. The views are breathtaking. If you visit Budapest, you must walk around the castle district at night. All the buildings gleam with luminous stone. The Parliament across the Danube is a delicate wedding cake in stone. Beware midnight: all the monuments go dark.

Today: A morning at home writing. An afternoon that starts with a lazy lunch at the Ket Szerecsen restaurant near the Liszt Ferenc ter (who we learned last night was NOT Hungarian). Wandering about the city center. Tonight: An Arthur Miller play in Hungarian, which might be beyond my reach, but will give me plenty of time to sit and ponder postmodern thoughts.

Budapest Blog of note: http://www.budapestdailyphoto.com/

Budapest Sounds and Sights

As I did my city-walk (leather bag across my shoulder, purposeful stride) down Andrassy street looking for the ticket office, it happened: a Hungarian asked me directions. I gave directions. Read: someone mistook me for a native. Alas, I am sure the minute I opened my mouth they knew my distinctly non-native accent. But.

***

Shortly thereafter a woman, who appeared "normal", started to beg in Hungarian. I told her that I don't speak Hungarian (in Hungarian), but she was undeterred. She explained that she was Romanian and had two children (in Hungarian) and. . .I said, I'm sorry, I'm sorry (in Hungarian) and kept city-walking.

***

Then I remembered that I hadn't mentioned that Sunday night we spent at the Szepmuveszeti (sp?) Museum for the last night of the Van Gogh exhibit. We waited in the chilly air until nearly 11 pm and made it through the line in time to enjoy the exhibit before it closed at midnight. It was crammed with other Van Gogh fans. The lights were dim. I loved the blue irises--there is a reason it was on the information pamphlet, a crowd pleaser. The exhibit was a traveling show that consisted mainly of studies rather than major works. For the record, he only sold ONE painting in his life. Note to self.

***

Tonight we saw a play called Mesel a Becsi Erdo by Odon Von Horvath. Luckily the language was not to poetic or stylized for me to follow. I love listening to actors speak Hungarian--they use body language, they articulate, they act the language. The play was was in the studio theater of the newly built Nemzeti Theater (National Theater). The building is an act of theater, which I believe is a kind way of saying that you should see it for yourself and form your own impression/interpretation. Not much to mention about the play itself, although the sets were quite unobtrusive. And an espresso at the break made the second half quite lively.

***

Tomorrow (Tuesday) L. has meetings and I have a free day! I plan to work on my novel. Drink tea. Shop at the boutiques. Etc. Vacation is good. Very.

Budding Budapest

There are a few early bloomers, but most trees are still staunchly bare despite the greening lawns at their feet. Despite the lack of buds, the spring air is fresh and the city streets lined with half open jackets and scarves pulled loose. We are in Budapest for spring break this week.

The flight here was more brutal than usual, perhaps due to the sleep deficiency we carried with us from a long night of partying to celebrate a 40th birthday. After my nap this afternoon, however, I am ready to hit the streets below fanning down to the Danube and across into Pest. My mission: go and find a ticket office and buy seats for two for the theater tonight. Already my head hurts from my broken Hungarian. And now a two-hour stint sitting sans translator in a theater. It is good for my brain, I hope.

Already we have nibbled on cakes and biscuits at the Ruszwurm Cafe (I think L. was the only Hungarian not behind the cake cabinet). I have had my token cappuccino at my favorite coffee place near the Mammut shopping center. I had creamed celery soup for dinner. We attended a family birthday party where we held babies, ate meat stuffed with salami, and I retired for a ten minute nap that lasted an hour and a half. The beggar on the street was too drunk to hold out his hand as I passed by on my way to read. I reread a few chapters from "The Things They Carried" by O'Brien in the afternoon sun in Millenaris Park, where the young people also dress aggresively in black and talk loudly. I ate salami and loved it.

And it is only Monday.

Writerly Quote of the Day

"Life can't ever really defeat a writer who is in love with writing, for life itself is a writer's lover until death -- fascinating, cruel, lavish, warm, cold, treacherous, constant."

--Edna Ferber

Kristoff Offers Trip Opportunity for College Students and Schoolteachers

March 11, 2007 Op-Ed Columnist
New York Times
Win a Trip, and See a Different World
By NICHOLAS D. KRISTOF

Cast your eyes above and meet Hidaya Abatemam, whom I met last month in a remote area of southern Ethiopia. She is 6 years old and weighs 17 pounds.

Hidaya was starved nearly to death and may well have suffered permanent mental impairment, helping to trap her — and her own children, if she lives that long — in another generation of poverty.

Yet maybe the more interesting question is not why Hidaya is starving but why the world continues to allow 30,000 children like her to die each day of poverty.

Ultimately what is killing girls like her isn’t precisely malnutrition or malaria, but indifference. And that, in turn, arises from our insularity, our inexperience in traveling and living in poor countries, so that we have difficulty empathizing with people like Hidaya.

I often hear comments from readers like: “It’s tragic over there, but we’ve got our own problems that we have to solve first.” Nobody who has held the hand of a starving African child could be that dismissive.

That lack of firsthand experience abroad also helps explain why we are so awful at foreign policy: we just don’t “get” how our actions will be perceived abroad, so time and again — in Vietnam, China, Iran, Iraq, Lebanon, Afghanistan and Latin America — we end up clumsily empowering our enemies.

Part of the problem is that American universities do an execrable job preparing students for global citizenship. A majority of the world’s population lives on less than $2 a day, but the vast majority of American students graduate without ever gaining any insight into how that global majority lives.

According to a Roper/National Geographic poll, 38 percent of Americans aged 18 to 24 consider speaking another language to be “not too important.” Sixty-three percent of those young Americans can’t find Iraq on a map of the Middle East. And 89 percent don’t correspond regularly with anyone outside the U.S.

A survey cited by the Modern Language Association found that only 9 percent of American college students enroll in a foreign language class.

Let’s face it: We’re provincial.

That’s one reason that I always exhort college students to take a “gap year” and roam the world, or at least to take a summer or semester abroad — and spend it not in Paris or London, but traveling through Chinese or African villages. Universities should give course credit for such experiences — and offer extra credit for students who catch intestinal worms.

So I’m now putting my company’s money where my mouth is. On Tuesday, in partnership with MySpace.com, The New York Times and I will announce a second annual “win a trip” contest to choose a university student to travel with me on a reporting trip to Africa. And this year, in addition to a student, I’ll choose a schoolteacher — from a middle school or high school — to accompany me as well. We'll probably travel together to Rwanda, Burundi and Congo.

Last year I chose a young woman from Mississippi, Casey Parks, and we traveled together through central Africa. Casey and I saw malnourished children just like Hidaya, and visited burned-out villages in areas of the Central African Republic that had been caught up in the furies of the spreading Darfur genocide. Pygmy trackers led us through the jungle to see gorillas and elephants, and we managed to be held up at gunpoint by bandits.

In Cameroon, we interviewed a doctor about maternal mortality — and then found a woman named Prudence, a mother of three, dying in the next room. A dead fetus was decomposing inside her, setting off a raging infection, but the doctor didn’t care about her. And so she died. You can know intellectually that half a million women die in pregnancy each year, but it’s still shattering to see a woman die so unnecessarily in front of you.

If you win the trip, you won’t be practicing tourism, but journalism. You’ll blog and prepare videos for the New York Times and MySpace Web sites. I’m betting that you’ll be able to connect with young readers and viewers — and galvanize them to care about these issues — in a way that I can’t.

So please spread the word about the contest. Rules and applications will be posted Tuesday [March 13] at www.nytimes.com/winatrip and at www.myspace.com/kristofontheground.

And for those who apply but don’t win, go anyway on your own. You’ll learn more than you ever would from an equivalent period in the classroom. And you’ll gain not only the occasional intestinal parasite but also an understanding of why we should fight to save children like Hidaya.

To read the original article online at the New York Times, visit
http://www.nytimes.com/2007/03/11/opinion/11kristof.html

Jane Fonda to Speak at YWCA in South Bend

Jane Fonda to speak at YWCA luncheon

Tickets available in advance

Tribune Staff Report

SOUTH BEND - Actress Jane Fonda, an activist in environmental and human rights, will be the keynote speaker at the YWCA of St. Joseph County’s “Tribute to Women” luncheon this year.

The event will be from 11:30 a.m. to 1 p.m. May 3 in Century Center - the same day her latest film, “Georgia Rule,” is scheduled to debut.

Fonda gained attention for defiance of the Vietnam War while she was in the midst of a successful movie career. She won Oscars and an Emmy award. Her films include “The China Syndrome,” “Nine to Five” and “On Golden Pond.”

Turning 70 this year, Fonda has directed her energy to the Georgia Campaign for Adolescent Pregnancy Prevention. In 2000, she traveled to Nigeria and produced a film in collaboration with the International Women’s Health Coalition, titled “Generation 2000: Changing Girls’ Realities.”

Among other efforts, she founded Greenstone, a women’s talk radio network that is owned by women.

Tickets to the luncheon cost $50 in advance. To order, call Katy Beach at (574) 233-9491, ext. 316.

South Bend Tribune Story

Studio Arts Center Gallery Openings

Opening Reception for
Studio Arts Center's

Gallery 805
Ruth Andrews- current works in her ongoing series of comic book based drawings
Beau Bilenki - Mixed media: 2D and 3D pieces In the Woods series

Studio 807
Robert Williams - Faces & Places paintings and sculptures

Studio 815
Annual exhibit by the members of the
Northern Indiana Pastel Society

Thursday, March 8
7 pm to 9 pm

The evening will also feature
University of Notre Dame Students in
Performance Art: History, Theory, Practice
Human Art Work
Still lives representing the students' recent research into identity as performance.
Information about the personae the students have been periodically assuming in public will be available at the exhibit.

For more information:
www.studioartscenter.org

Studio Arts Center
805/807/815 Lincoln Way West
South Bend, IN 46616
574/288-0160

Brains Behind Talent

Check out the link below that takes you to a short video detailing the brain science behind talent. In this case, the discussion focuses on athletic talent. I am convinced (with no scientific evidence, but nontheless) that it applies to other kinds of learning.

Neuroscientist Doug Fields explains how neural membranes function in developing athletic skills:

http://video.on.nytimes.com/?fr_story=4a86810a4af95d30fc40c55377f7fe6cdea9167d

(I tried to embed this video but couldn't figure out how to lift it from the Times.)