An Oik at the Opera

Hungarian State Opera
Andrássy út 22 [map] [tickets]
Tel. 331 2550
Pest Centre, Opera (M1), 1 min

Alright? I went to see an Oprah, wiv singin' n'that at the Oprah house. I fought Oprah was well gay an if my mates knew I was goin’ to that kind of thing, they’d say I was losin’ it. But the missus wanted it and so I gave it a go.

So all the toffs and students were all wearing suits and sparkly dresses an that, an I was wearing a t-shirt but it was ok. But the thing was, I had to leave my coat at the cloakroom, an that cost like 140 florints, which they should of just put on the ticket because you have to leave it. Know what I mean?

We was up near the top because the seats up there was much cheaper than in the main bit but I reckon it was better cuz you could look round the room which was well posh: all gold stuff everywhere, like for the Queen or Puff Daddy. Maybe in one of the boxes, she would of sat in there wiv Prince Phillip on one side and Puff on the other. Ha ha! That would be well weird.

But that would of been loads an I reckon it's not much different an even we paid 3500 florints each for a ticket when we could of paid 400 florints - when you could of sat not anywhere but it would of been the same. But don't buy any drinks because wine was like 1200 florints for a glass an you can't take it in with you. Rip off! You're better off getting a coke, which was 350 florints, an then just getting drinks somewhere else later.

So this one was called Anyegin or somethink like that an it was in Russian, which I knew because when the scoreboard said "Nem, nem, nem" the men in the Oprah sang "Nyet, nyet, nyet" which was "No, no, no" in Russian. I didn't know they had a scoreboard like that at the Oprah! Shame it was in foreign.

So I didn't know what was happenin' half the time because I don't read these old stories where people fall in love an then they end up killing each other and that kind of thing. Not exactly modern is it? So it would of been a bit better if I'd looked at the internet before we went.

But the good thing was that they put people in different colours. So there were two couples: a red one and a white one, and the girl in the white one was with this guy in the white and he didn't like her as much as she liked him. But the red ones liked each other but they had a party an the white girl got off with the red guy an then they did a big stand-off, like in a Western, and the red one got shot. But in the end, the white one wasn't happy either because the girl that he didn't like at the start didn't like him anymore but he liked her. She wasn't worth it, mate!

Anyway, so it wasn't that real but they had a big square stage that tilted and moved round, and these bits that kept floating over - so it didn't look the same all the way through. And, of course, they were singing all the time - an they were good singers - if you like Pavarotti or whatever! The orchestra was there at the front too. Imagine if they done that for films.

So it was ok in the end. It didn't go as slow as I thought and it was better than the time we went to the ballet. The room is worth it and it was ok if your girlfriend wants to go. You only have to spend 400 florints each and you can still see. Anyway, I can say I've done that now, an everyone at work's gonna say "You went to the Oprah?" And I'm going to say "Well, man of the world, my friends, man of the world."
Opera
Oik Sz.

You may have noticed that there are some pretty shady characters kicking around in Budapest: the ones who think they're in a Hungarian variant of the SS. The uniform of camouflage trousers and jack boots is completed with a black bomber jacket with a sewn-on badge of "Greater Hungary" - thanks mum! - and a t-shirt that proudly announces:

"MAGYAR VAGYOK NEM TURISTA!" (I'm Hungarian, not a tourist.)


It's not easy to comprehend the thinking of the confused misanthropic nationalist youth at the best of times. Unless there's some genuine resistance to tourism, which isn't beyond possibility, I can only assume that these t-shirts have to be worn beyond Hungary's borders to make any sense.

It's impossible to say where teenage angs
t ends and where fascism in earnest begins but it's disappointing that no one seems too interested in making any opposing political fashion statements. (Perhaps because that would result in having the shit kicked out of you by the kids in the jack boots.)

But maybe it's just that the fashion industry hasn't cornered the market. Here are a few ideas, just in case...



Andy Sz.


 

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