Long Live the Hungarians!

It seems as though the days spent here in Budapest are going by so fast that I only get a chance to blink two times before it's a new day. I'm happy about this because I am excited to return home for the winter holiday season, but at the same time I feel like I am running out of time to enjoy Budapest. A lot of it has to do with being a full-time student with the most ridiculous schedule on the planet, which means that I have to be smart about setting aside time for play and make sure that I don't compromise my studies too much. Maybe I'm taking school a little too seriously; then again, if I just wanted to explore/travel/party all the time, I could have done that without signing up for a two-year school program.

I have been making it a point to do at least one thing for myself a week that involves enjoying Budapest and forgetting that I have any homework to do. Two weekends ago when I visited the second-hand English bookstore, I picked up a flyer for a symphony orchestra concert happening the following weekend. The flyer expressed that the show would feature the cimbalom, and although at the time I wasn't exactly sure what that was, I figured it would be a fun time. When I got to my room, I hopped on the computer and found out that the cimbalom is a fancy name for a hammer dulcimer that has been tweaked by the Hungarians to suit their wants. I immediately decided I was going to go, and I didn't mind at all that I would be going alone. There are just some things in the world that are better to enjoy without having to be distracted by the awareness of a companion there. Don't get me wrong, I do still like to be social, I just wanted this for myself.

Last Saturday I made my way to the Duna Palota, which is a former casino-turned-palace right across the street from where I go to school.  Talk about not having to worry about getting lost! When I found the entrance to the palace I was immediately overwhelmed by the decor- everything was carefully styled in neo-Baroque (pretty much all archietectural styles in Budapest are "neo" because there are not a whole lot of surviving original buildings due to war destruction). Once I was given my seating assignment I walked slowly up the red carpeted stairs so that I could admire the golden stucco features of the walls and the cherubs pointing down at me from the ceilings. If the concert turned out to be awful, at least I knew I would be able to enjoy the atmosphere.

Much to my satisfaction the concert turned out to be amazing. The theater itself was quaint, for it occupied just a small area on the upper floor of the building. The decorations were just as impressive as the rest of the palace, although I didn't doubt this for a moment before walking into it. When the members of the orchestra came out from backstage they didn't once try to hide their individual personalities, and you can tell they treated one another more as family members rather than colleagues. They began by playing the Rakoczi March by Berlioz, which I later found out is considered an anthem of Hungary (although unofficially). The sounds were full and rich and I couldn't help but notice my emotions stirring. After a few other Hungarian-influenced pieces, the orchestra played Tschardas (or Czardas) from Coppelia and I actually started to cry. It was the song the last ballet class I apprenticed at Mo's had danced to, so I did feel some sadness, but they played it so well that I felt happy at the same time. Talk about mixed emotions... The orchestra played pieces by Bartok, Liszt, Lehar, Brahms, and Strauss, with the cimbalom coming in every once in a while to be featured in a specific piece. The player did a solo of Monti's Csardas and once again I cried, but this time I felt no sadness whatsoever. I felt like I was turning into my mother (no offense Mom!) :) Earlier before the cimbalom player came out, the orchestra played Haydn's Farewell Symphony IV, and every so often the players would get up, one by one, nod at the audience, and leave the stage. The audience chuckled, at first because they weren't sure what was going on and thought this was strange, but then they (I'm just going to assume) figured out what was going on (a farewell song, get it?) and laughed out of amusement. When there were only three instruments left, the conductor turned around and shrugged at the audience, pretending he had no idea what was happening. When the last viola left the stage, the conductor threw up his hands and stormed off the stage himself, leaving two violin players to duet until the end of the song. When they finished, they gave a nice bow to the audience and practically ran off the stage, making the audience chuckle once again. I was definitely having a great time.

The conductor was an interesting specimen for sure. There were times where he would act extremely serious with his orchestra, and there were other times where he would stop conducting and do a little hip swivel dance to the music. I think I would have liked him as my own conductor. He allowed certain instruments to lead the orchestra at different times, and he made sure to acknowledge the entire band after each song rather than just the soloists. I secretly think he either has a thing for and fling with the first violin player, because he was constantly kissing her hand and making her blush. Near the end of the concert during Long Live the Hungarians! he lead the audience in a hand-clapping frenzy, getting us to clap loud and soft and to different rhythms throughout the song. He "tricked" us at one point by making us think he would lead us into a big clap, but then suddenly stopped himself, although we still clapped, and gave us a shake of a his finger right before he winked. His mannerisms were odd but enjoyable, mostly because he was more cool and relaxed than I've ever seen a conductor be. I really wonder what his orchestra thinks of him, for it would be my guess they all get along with him and prefer his style. Then again, maybe he can be so cool on stage because he trains them so strictly during rehearsals. Shrugs, you never know.

I loved going to the symphony so much last weekend, that I'm going again. It's a completely different one this time though, with an entirely new orchestra and location. The show is going to be held at St. Stephen's Basilica, so I imagine there will be songs inspired mostly by religion versus the pride of a nation. I am very excited to sit inside the basilica and find out what kind of experience I will have. The show takes place tonight, so I should probably get ready for it soon.

One last thing before I go. Yesterday was Revolution Day, a national holiday in Hungary that observes the revolution against the Soviets of 1956. It marked the three year anniversary of the day I first landed in Budapest when I was on break from school in Greece. Since we didn't have classes, I invited Elena to come along with me to the Museum of Fine Arts, which is located right outside of Hero's Square. Since it was a holiday admission for all exhibits were free. I wanted to take advantage of this fact in order to see the "Turner and Italy" exhibit, which would be closed in a couple days so that the "From Boticelli to Titian" exhibit could be installed. I really enjoyed the works by J. M. W. Turner, who had made a whole series of sketches and watercolors while traveling to different regions of Italy. He made Italy look so soft and pleasant that it made me want to go back there again really soon, especially to Capri. Elena and I toured the museum for almost 4 hours (although we did take a break for a snack and a drink) and we only covered half of the permanent exhibits. Once the new temporary exhibit is put in place, I'll go back to see it, as well as the other half that I missed.