The first morning I went to bed on the sziget - this was on the second day of the festival, the crowd was already forming its own natural flow, its own shape - the festival's shadows were sprayed upon the duna, among shouts of early morning drinkers, late night sleepers, common festival sound-landscape. After my first night-walk amongst hungarian led party-animals, discovering the tracks to follow on this small eastern european paradise-factory. The kind of place where hope is taking place, in Budapest's open wound, Sziget, island splitting the gorge between two symbolical worlds.
Pest a very open door to the massive and empty hungarian step... Buda a door we turn our backs on when we work, Buda a hill we pay our respects to when we arrive and depart from Budapest. Sziget is a tribute of the moment to hungary's strength, awakening, and suffering. And the inevitable presence of very hated sponsors doesn't leave me cold. Hungary has gone past this time of waiting, and when I saw Radiohead play in a field packed with probably 50 000 people, Guru hail the city's name with his Brooklyn twang (strangely enough, something like " Be you da pest " ...), or Bootsie quartet make a trendy public display of modernness, I felt warmth to the ears and pleasure to the eyes. It seems Sziget is ever more alive.
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