Szolnok’s First Golden Age

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This evening I went to a lecture by Zsolt Bajnai on Szolnok’s first golden age (from 1867 to 1914). I learned about buildings I see every day, buildings I have never seen (because they don’t exist any more), buildings that have partly remained, and the ways of life associated with them. Mr. Bajnai showed photographs and postcards of the buildings that now house the Varga Katalin Gimnázium and the Ferenc Verseghy Library; the County Hall and City Hall, the building, which I often admire in passing, on the corner of Kossuth Square and Arany János Street; the buildings on Szapáry; the churches and synagogue; the train station; the old Szabadság bridge; the water tower, and much more. It was exciting to follow along; I understood at least 85 percent of the lecture and could figure out much of the rest. Besides learning about Szolnok, I was in awe of the occasion: a lecturer who knew and cared so much about this city, an inviting venue (the community center on Napsugár Street, right by the Alcsi-Holt-Tisza), and a rapt audience. This wasn’t just “worth” the bike ride to the outskirts of the city; the bike ride, lecture, audience, and surroundings were all part of the event.

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Afterwards, I bicycled in the wrong direction at first–but realized my error quickly and saw some lovely things along the way. Within minutes, I was back home. I have more to say, another time, about this event and about Zsolt Bajnai’s story “From the Pelikán to the Sugar Factory,” which I first read yesterday morning and which swiftly changed my life.

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“…használhatatlanná váltak…”

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After doing some last-minute errands before tomorrow’s trip across the seas, I decided to return to the exhibit–at the corner of Szapáry and Kossuth–of the history of some of Szolnok’s old buildings. I had attended the opening at 7 p.m. on June 22, the Night of the Museums, which coincided with the last day of the Tiszavirág Fesztivál. Zsolt Bajnai, who wrote the text and contributed some of the pictures, spoke about the exhibit and the buildings described in it; Marcell Bajnai opened and closed the event with a few of his songs.* I lingered a few minutes afterward to look at the pictures but knew I needed more time. Today I took a few minutes, not enough, but something.

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I began reading about the 1969 fire in the center of Szolnok. This sentence caught my attention: “A baleset utáni vizsgálat nyilvánvalová tette, hogy az üzletterek és a raktárak lényegében használhatatlanná váltak, azaz Szolnok akkori legnagyobb áruháza megsemmisült.” (The investigation after the accident made it clear that the business spaces and warehouses had essentially become unusable; that is, Szolnok’s largest department store at that time had been destroyed.)

Even within such a sad topic, how magnificent the word “használhatatlanná”! It consists of the root “haszon” (advantage, benefit, use) and four suffixes: the verb-forming suffix “ál,” the potential suffix -hat, the privative suffix -atlan, and the translative suffix -vá, which gets converted to “ná.” (I first learned about the translative case—my favorite of the cases—when  learning “Maradok ember,” which has the phrase “viharrá lettél.”) The phrase “használhatatlanná váltak” can be translated as “became unusable.” But how do you translate its length, its parts and whole, its metamorphosis, its six-time “a/á” vowel sound, the double occurrences of the consonant sounds h, l, t, and n, the last of which actually occurs triply, since it is doubled the second time? That word alone made the foray worthwhile, but it was just a fraction of what I saw and read there, between rush and rush, before leaving the country for five weeks.

*Regular readers of this blog have probably seen the Bajnai name come up often; yes, the Bajnai family contributes richly to cultural life in Szolnok and beyond, together and individually. I admire their work and look forward to knowing and understanding it better over time. I have begun translating Kata Bajnai’s play Farkasok (Wolves), which I saw for the second time on June 22, just a few hours before this opening.

In the Thick of the Festival

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Szolnok’s beloved Tiszavirág Fesztivál, commemorating the emergence of the mayflies from the Tisza river, is now in full swing, with music, food, drink, and general cheer. It is fun to spend time there with friends, as I did last night, or go to listen to music, as I will do this evening, or just head down there without specific plans. If you live in Szolnok, you will probably run into people you know. You will also hear various languages besides Hungarian: Russian, English, French, German, Croatian, and others.

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Yesterday evening, while hanging out with Tündi and Böbi and their friend Gábor, I got intrigued by the sound of Eskelina, a Swedish musician who now lives in France and writes and sings mainly in French.  I went up close a couple of times to listen. A little kid went even closer.

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Besides the music, what I enjoy about this festival (and the one in Esztergom too) is the ease of spending time in it, no matter what you are doing. People come there to be together. No one is in a rush, it seems. There are lots of places to sit, so you can just find a place and settle down for an hour or two, or else walk around and explore.

At the end of the evening I biked along the Tisza, then up the Zagyva, the one crowded with teenagers and reminiscent of “Álmok a parton“, the other almost desolate, except for a few bikers, river-gazers, and the sky. I now head down for more: an acoustic concert by 1LIFE (just an hour away!), maybe some walking around, more time with Tündi and Böbi, and a not-too-late return home, since I head to Budapest early in the morning.

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Update: The 1LIFE concert was fantastic. I have few words for it right now, but the songs are still in my mind. Afterward I sat for a little while with Tündi,  Böbi, and their colleagues. And then came home. A beautiful day.

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Were our mouths filled with song as the sea….

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In all the world’s stress, danger, and fear, it is easy to lose sight of the extraordinary beauty in our lives: the things that rise up, against all expectation or dread, and show us a different way of perceiving and living. When I came to Szolnok at the end of October 2017, on my very first day, I walked to the synagogue (and also got a bike across the street). I knew that it was now a gallery; what I didn’t know was that there were people in Szolnok who treasured its history and worked to keep its heritage alive. Nor did I know that one day I would attend an event devoted to the synagogue’s history, and then, a few days later, hold an event there devoted to the sounds of Shabbat.

But yes, these things happened and are about to happen: On Sunday I attended a day-long event commemorating the synagogue’s 120th anniversary. The hall was packed; a warm and eager audience listened to speeches, presentations, and music (a chamber group from the Szolnok Symphony, and later a klezmer band, whose singer, Judit Klein, began with a solo rendition of “Szól a kakas már“).

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The day was marked with festive and joyous moments: a champagne toast, a delicious kosher lunch, and a special visit to the little synagogue a few meters away, next to the Tisza Mozi movie theatre. (Szolnok once had three synagogues: these two and a third one where a memorial now stands.)

I was left with a desire to hear more: in particular, I hope to hear the rabbi and scholar Alfréd Schöner speak again.

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Tomorrow evening I return to the synagogue, this time to lead an event. I will teach three “songs”–that is, one piyut, one psalm, and one zemer–that have a profound role in Shabbat: “Lecha Dodi,” Psalm 150, and “Eliyahu Hanavi.” The first two I will teach with more than one melody (three for the first and two for the second). I hope that this, too, will be a beginning–but of what, I do not yet know.

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The title of this blog post is a quotation from the Nishmat.

What’s Happening on the Ground in Hungary?

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People sometimes ask me what’s happening on the ground in Hungary–that is, what people think of Orbán and Fidesz. I get puzzled by the question; why assume that political opinions tell us much at all? Political slogans and stances involve so much reduction that they don’t come close to representing life. That said, a rally took me by surprise today.

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I was having a restful afternoon when all of a sudden I heard a sound that I have never heard in Hungary before (except in performances): the sound of slogan-chanting. I looked out the window and saw people marching over the bridge. I ran out the door and across the river to see what was going on. Mind you, there have been many rallies since I arrived here over a year ago, especially in Budapest, but I have not seen or heard them. I usually learned about them after the fact.

I caught up with the crowd and looked around. There were people and flags from at least five political parties ranging ideologically from right to left: Jobbik, Demokratikus Koalíció, Lehet Más a Politika (Politics Can Be Different), Momentum, and MSZP (Magyar Szocialista Párt). I am not sure what exactly they were protesting (beyond Fidesz and Orbán), but my guess is that it had to do with the new “slave labor law.” As I stood on the outskirts and listened, a woman complained to me that they were doing the wrong thing, that this would only lead to confrontation. Then they marched onward, chanting “Orbán takarodj!” (“Orbán, get out!”). 

“Orbán, get out,” but then what? I don’t deplore this kind of action, but I see it as a rough draft of something to come. Many young people are astute observers of the situation; they analyze the problems, arguments, and flaws on all sides and deliberate over solutions. I often get keen news analyses from students: commentary on current events in Hungary, the future of the EU, Brexit developments, the situation in Venezuela, and more. In ten years or so, a new generation of adults will point out new possibilities, if they have not left the country and if Europe has not fallen apart.

But back to my original point: as understood currently, politics only grazes the surface, if even that. Because of its pressure toward certainty and allegiance, political speech often disregards human complexity. Point the finger at others, and you get all sorts of approval; question yourself, and you fall into obscurity or even ridicule.

This does not have to be so; politics can involve discernment and probing. To reach this level, it must be informed by literature, history, philosophy, and arts, by mathematics and science, by practical experience and wisdom, and by difficult introspection. This kind of politics is even more daring than slogans and platforms, but it takes courage and knowledge.

So, although the rally represented more than I know, it did not encompass life on the ground this week, which was full of literature (in particular, two readings by the poet Béla Markó, on one of his rare visits to Szolnok), music, language, work, bike rides, dilemma, speech, translation, silence, theatre, sleep, waking, and thought. 

 

The two pictures of the end are of my bike ride to school on Friday morning and the opening moments of the Varga Katalin Gimnázium drama club’s performance in the annual Ádámok és Évák theatre celebration at the Szolnoki Szigligeti Színház on Thursday night.

I made a few edits to this piece after posting it, and then a few more later.

Along the Dirt Road

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In the late afternoon I got on the bike, pedaled north on the Zagyva walkway, crossed the railroad tracks, and continued onto the dirt road, which goes on and on. Here and there, with long stretches in between, I came across walkers (including one of my students), runners, bikers, and a slow jeep–as well as horses, sheep, cows, chickens, and cats.

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I saw swans for the first time this fall; approaching them, I saw someone sitting by the water, absorbed in thought. (That person does not appear in the picture.)

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Earlier on, before the swans, I dipped my foot in the Zagyva for the first time; here is the ripple.

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Soon I will have been here for a year. My two favorite seasons here are late spring (when the sour cherries spill over the crates) and the entire fall, from start to finish. There’s still a good bit of fall left, and while I will be away for part of it, I still hope for some hearty bike rides.

More soon on other things. I meant this post to be about books, but the dirt road had its own say. Speaking of say, here are some sounds from the bike ride.

Shakespeare Around the Corner

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The Shakespeare event is just three days away. A few days ago, I posted some short videos of ninth-grade rehearsals. Here are the tenth-graders (who read Hamlet this semester) heading up the stairs to our venue.

They will perform excerpts of two scenes from Hamlet: the scene where Hamlet encounters the Ghost (Act 1, Scene 5) and the scene of the play within a play (Act 3, Scene 2). Here is a rehearsal of the “dumb-show” at the start of the play within a play.

They practiced it again today (this time with the one who will play Lucianus in the actual event):

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As we approach the event itself, it’s exciting to see and hear subtleties entering the performance. Students have been figuring out their words and gestures, giving them more life each time. Some have taken on the role of assistant directors, offering ideas about the blocking, costumes, delivery, and more.

Everyone has helped out in some way. In the many rehearsals where we did not have the full cast (because the two halves of each class have English at different times), students stepped in to play the parts of those who were not there. Others helped out as audience members; they listened and watched, day after day. Many contributed drawings to the classroom wall.

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There is little more to say and much to do; the next few days will ascend the stairs.

“I see a voice: now will I to the chink….”

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We have been practicing, day by day, for the May 31 Shakespeare event–just a week away now–which will include three excerpts from A Midsummer Night’s Dream, two excerpts from Hamlet, a simple Renaissance dance, and a few introductions and interludes. The rehearsals have built and built; each time, something has improved, and the mistakes have made memories too.

It has been fun to pull costumes together; a homemade lion costume (in the works–thanks to a student’s mom), plastic wreaths and vines, a lanthorn, a not-so-thorny thornbush, a (stuffed) dog, some crowns, and other props and accoutrements.

Here’s a dialogue from A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Act 1, Scene 1 (recorded May 17):

Here’s one from Act 3, Scene 2, with a different Hermia and Helena (recorded May 22):

Here’s the Wall (“In this same interlude it doth befall / That I, one Snout by name, present a Wall….”)

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I don’t have any Hamlet photos or videos yet (aside from the drawings I posted recently), but that may change soon.

Birches and Books

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William Blake got something right in his ruminative “Auguries of Innocence“:

The Princes Robes & Beggars Rags
Are Toadstools on the Misers Bags
A Truth thats told with bad intent
Beats all the Lies you can invent
It is right it should be so
Man was made for Joy & Woe
And when this we rightly know<
Thro the World we safely go

What a strange and persistent poem; it seems like a long procession of lanterns. I think of it in light of the sad international news of the past few weeks, the joys in my life, the mixture of meanings everywhere.

Today many students were out of the classroom, attending a special event, so I took my eleventh-grade classes to the park, where we went in different directions, looked at something for five minutes, and then converged again to show each other what we had seen. In one session I found roses blooming upward; in another, a weeping birch in the wind.

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During this time, things have been coming along with the book, which now has a jacket design:

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To top it all off, or to lift it up from the foundation, the CONTRARIWISE copies arrived here in Szolnok today! A copy goes to each of the contest winners from my school, another one to the school, and one to me. CONTRARIWISE prevails. I will say more soon.

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Life near the Zagyva

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Every day, when I bike or walk to school along the Zagyva, something catches my attention: a blackbird’s song, a stork, a row of fishermen, a family of ducks, a red poppy among the dandelions. There’s a fisherman in the picture above. The bridge is the one I cross to do my basic shopping; I just walk across the river.

Right now a storm is starting; here’s the balcony view from just a few minutes ago. I have the balcony door open and am enjoying the sounds of thunder. Minnaloushe is relaxing on the coffee table.

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There’s a strange simplicity about life (along with a complementary complexity) when you don’t really know the language that is spoken around you. On the one hand, you walk in beauty. On the other, you know you’re missing a few fathoms of reality. I am understanding more and more, but it’s like taking an eyedropper to the sea. I would rather have the eyedropper and sea, though, than one without the other, or neither.

But certain things, like the strutting of a stork, speak their own language, leaving us poor humans agape in equality.

 

Image comment: Some of the trees in the first picture appear in the blog’s banner photo. A month ago they stood in water. Now they are grounded and green.