Fries with that goulash?

Probably, the surfeit of McDonald's (McDonald's's?) and UPS's in Budapest shouldn't surprise me because, I've come to realize, I don't think twice about the Ikea's and Toyotas and other foreign brands in the United States. I might get used to it, but the cognitive dissonance (if that's what it is) comes from a number of reasons. In the first place, I thought only those in the United States were foolish enough to buy U.S. cars. A similar line of thinking follows for Pizza Hut's and Burger King's.

But there's a difference between foreign companies operating in the United States and U.S. companies operating abroad. If the United States is a melting pot, then it makes sense that outside companies would want to tap into that market and that the different cultures bring their different cuisines, clothes, and customs. On the other hand, when I see Sean John in Budapest or KFC in Vietnam, it seems to have less to do with diversity and more to do with: 1) a desire to Westernize, and 2) the intrusion of U.S. businesses.

What I like in all this, though, is the forward motion of globalization; I admit, I fancy the idea of a world government. There will be some casualties, as the famous Mediterranean diet proves. But there's some credence to the notion that as the United States (or any country) exports its culture via films, food, fashion, or what have you, other countries will better understand it. And vice versa. It doesn't seem that much different than the democratic peace theory (liberalist belief that we should spread democracy because democracies don't go to war with each other). But I don't know what potential this has. As a friend told me, and as I saw in Vietnam, globalization or Westernization may not mean democracy or civil rights; they may not get further than Britney Spears and Indiana Jones.

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Reading: Chistopher Duggan, "A Concise History of Italy" (slow but worthwhile read)
Watching: The Royal Tenenbaums (why didn't anyone make me watch this sooner?)
Listening to: Kelly Clarkson, "How I Feel"

The fairest of them all

When we discovered Saturday that $30 would get us third row seats at the Snow White ballet at the Hungarian State Opera House, my roommates and I booked tickets for the following day. Our friends bought tickets for under $2 (reread that if you must) and from their albeit oblique seats they were at least close enough to make out faces. The price says nothing of the dignity of the Opera House, which, though small by Lincoln Center's standards, boasted more than its share of ceiling frescoes, red velvet walls, and sparkling chandeliers. It had more to do, a roommate pointed out, with the family appeal of the performance, which was fine with me. I loved seeing the children just as dolled up as their parents and I think all of it was fitting, even if I couldn't help recalling however briefly the Hungarians who dressed up for the debut of McDonald's. Admittedly the clapping in unison and children jumping up and down did not add to the elegance, but I'm sure that won't be the case when I see Anna Karenina next month.

As I watched I questioned my own inner child for never questioning my love of the fairy tale. A shrew talking to a mirror? Queen with no king? Dwarf coal miners in the woods? And we shouldn't even go into the outmoded concept that white skin equals beauty (or as Ralph Ellison ingeniously put it, 'white is right'). But on the topic of beauty, for all the esteem that she inspires, the titular character does little more than look pretty as she keeps house for seven incapable bachelors. In the ballet, at least, she dances, but the time immemorial question remains, is that beauty? If one can dance as others can't, is this accomplishment? Is something admirable because it is difficult, worthy because it is beautiful, beautiful because it is achieved...

For better or worse the ballet tweaked the Disney movie to give the witch three minions: red, orange, and purple and resembling the Olympics trolls if Billy Peltzer had fed them after midnight. It also altered Snow White's iconic blue and yellow, which became an unrecognizable peasant dress of pink and light blue (then again Disney didn't invent the tale). Aside from the flamboyance of the queen, purity of the prince and princess, and remarkable dwarfishness of the septet played by ordinary men, the costumes did little to impress. But are the designers at a disadvantage because of the nature of the story? Or does any play/ballet/opera/film/show have the potential to win Best Costume?

What the performance lacked in attire it compensated for in special effects and setting, which were quite ornate for a ballet. In one number, the backup dancers brought in the mirror (a gilded frame in reality) and illustrated its reflective capacity with one ballerina in front cleaning the 'glass,' the other behind, mimicking her actions. For the rest of the show, the mirror's role was to enclose a screen on which was projected previously (though poorly) recorded gestures of the queen as she admired herself. Most impressive was the Jekyll and Hyde scene: after downing a noxious brew, the witch stood before the mirror in such an elaborate cape that we saw nothing of her except what was shown on the screen. She cringed, writhed, and emerged a warted, fibbing-wooden-puppet of a hag, off to deliver her forbidden fruit. The transformation was so complete and seamless that I didn't realize until curtain call that the post-potion hag was played by another dancer, a ballerino in fact.

And because I know you were wondering, the seven are: Happy, Sneezy, Sleepy, Bashful, Grumpy, Dopey, and Doc.

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Listening to: Rush, "Limelight"

Redemption

That is, if I needed to be redeemed, today gave me enough fodder to justify (culturally, educationally, historically) coming to Hungary. I generally grimace at all things touristy but went on a tour this afternoon thinking it can/should be done once. Then, our guide (Jeff, I thought, but he didn’t respond when called it) made a case for his existence, though I’m pretty sure it was unintentional: past halftime, we were asking which nearby cities he recommends visiting, which led to a spiel on remembering to read the guidebooks and go to the tourist hot spots because one can, believe it or not, learn a lot from them. Now that I think of it, he was referring to the Disneyworld in the Czech Republic. Previously I had been attracted to Hungary’s communist past, revolutionary pride, and developing status, but now on to more specific points of interest:

• Jeff put on a German accent and tells us what he says other tour guides would tell other tourists: two lions greet you at the entrance of the famous bridge over the Danube, and when it was first erected, people admired and praised the bridge as the first (after Vienna's) to connect East and West, but one little boy remarked that the lions had no tongues, which put the creator of the bridge to such shame that he jumped off said bridge. Bull shit, as it turned out. Moral of the story: don’t believe everything guides tell you. After all, they’re in the business of “edu-tainment,” in his words. I thought that was a good way for Jeff to begin our tour. (Disclaimer: the above photo was taken by a friend, not me.)
  


• I think the East-West part was true.


• At first I was cynical that he should show us hotels, but those, too, had their redeeming qualities. Namely, they broke ground in ushering in Western capitalism, therefore symbolizing goulash communism, Hungary’s soft approach to that craze of the second half of the 20th century.


• An even better symbol is the nearby McDonald’s, the first to open doors in a communist country. For its debut, journalists hailed the event as groundbreaking and Hungarians turned out in droves, dressed to impress.


• Hungary’s is the second largest synagogue in the world, after the one on Fifth Avenue. A fellow student pointed out: one would think Israel could hold its own in that race.


• It’s built in the Moorish style in homage to the days when Jews and Muslims got along. Later synagogues included organs, flouting the Christian patent, because Hungarian Jews couldn’t get enough of that Beethoven.


• After World War II, the best preserved (not entirely sure what that means) group of Jewish people were those in Hungary.


• The country’s name derives from the initial impression that the first settlers here were related to the Huns, which despite a physical resemblance at the time, has been disproved. In fact, they were genetically much closer to the Mongols. (Two words: lion’s tongues).