I am not a reporter. If you don’t believe me, just ask my editor, Allan Boyko. He’ll set you straight, right fast. I’m just an observer. Although I try, I don’t always get the facts straight but I do have my opinion down to a science.
Occasionally something slips through the cracks that one would logically think was territory reserved solely for bona-fide reporters. Most recently it was an invitation to the opening of the new Estonian Embassy in a fully renovated former mansion in Buda.
Not suffering the occupational hazard reporters endure (the requirement to converse with people), I felt there was little harm in attending. The ceremony promised opening remarks by the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Urmas Paet, followed by a “short open air concert” performed by the HaleBopp choir. The only potential hazard I could foresee was having to get suited up for an outdoor ceremony with the outside temperature hitting 30 C. Of course, the real benefit was to get to see the interior renovations to a stunning Hungarian mansion. I could sweat it out for that.
In my official observer capacity, I feel it is my obligation to share with you some of the things I observed.
One (and I’ve noticed this before but just never isolated the phenomenon) was just how handsome diplomatic corps people tend to be. So many of them have that chiseled bone structure thing going with the coiffed, helmet hair, that makes quite a stunning presentation, especially when seen as a group. And you have to hand it to them: suited up in 30 C weather or not, these people just don’t sweat. But as impressive as the audience was, nothing was as impressive as the Estonian Minister of Foreign Affairs. He stood up to deliver the opening remarks and I think he was seated within sixty seconds. A short-winded politician? Sign me up on the voters’ list. He made reference to the fact that for perhaps for the first time in history, all of Hungary’s neighbors are friends. I guess everything is relative. Estonia borders Russia.
The real surprise came with the choir, or rather, the selection of songs and the presentation by the choir. The 30-ish member coed university choir wore Estonian blue and white semi-matching outfits and performed on the steps to the Embassy. Not surprisingly, they performed traditional Estonian music which I am sure you know well. But then they left their homeland, picked up an array of music ranging from Lennon-McCartney songs to Broadway tunes to “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” (I assumed that was reference to Russia), created unexpected vocal arrangements and delivered a fun, light-hearted and whimsical performance.
I know. There is nothing ground-breaking about whimsy. Except when it’s found on embassy grounds. Whimsy? And in Hungary, no less?
A male baritone performed a couple of solos and I cannot decide if this was deliberate irony or an over-sight: Looking very much like and as likable as the character Shrek, he moved to the front of the choir and belted out Gershwin’s “I’ve got plenty of nothing.” From Estonia, you say? I guess it beats singing the Hungarian version, “I’ve got plenty of debt.”
In another arrangement, three female choir members at the back played a barely visible standing bass version of the air guitar. Unlike the air guitar, the air standing bass does not have a lot of body language. I don’t know if anyone else saw it or not. Then there were the hands cupped over the mouth to create faux trumpet sounds and not to be upstaged, the fingers flipping across the lips to create (I think) a faux reverb. Or something to that effect. The choir master actually got the political audience clapping to the beat of the music, albeit briefly. Usually they only clap at speeches and I must admit, I was ready to give that sixty-second speech a standing ovation.
The only technical flaw I detected was a bird that seemed to be happily singing along with the choir and I swear, half the time in tune.
Before we dismiss whimsy and humor as frivolous, it doesn’t hurt to know that Estonia has a higher literacy rate than Hungary (99.8% vs 99.4%).
Kudos to Estonia for not taking themselves too seriously. We should take lessons.
