Gay until Tomorrow

Like Germany's riotous Patching festival, Hungary's Fasching was traditionally a time to blow off steam before the onset of Lent's rigors. It was banned by Hungary's Red rulers. But now, with their tolerance, Farsang (pronounced for-shong), is making a comeback--not so much as a pre-Lenten spree as a chance to escape the austerity of everyday life under Communism. Explained one blonde merrymaker: "We celebrate from the morning after New Year's right through Lent, and on to Easter.''

Hungary's festival pales by comparison with the old days, when Magyar aristocrats would spit on a 100-forint note (worth about $12.50), slap it on a gypsy's forehead, and demand passionate violin-playing until the spittle dried and the note fell off. But all things considered, it is gay enough. At Budapest's Press Ball last week, young men in stovepipe trousers and girls in daringly decollete dresses performed a writhing twist that onlookers pointed to with a touch of pride as their own "dirty twist." For the monster masked balls that punctuate the season, probably 100,000 costumes will be rented. At some events the men sport tuxedos rented for 120 forints (the average Hungarian earns 1,600 forints a month, or $70 at tourist exchange rates), and the ladies wear old remodeled party dresses.

Everybody throws a party: there is even a Ball of the Administration of Water Economy. At the Foresters' Ball in Budapest's Hotel Gellert fortnight ago, 1,500 guests turned up, including even a few foresters. Gypsies provide the music, sawing out Strauss waltzes, wild Hungarian csardas and songs by somebody listed as "Colporter." The balls go strong until dawn breaks over the Danube.

For all the dancing, drinking and casual lovemaking, the festival has a bittersweet air. After their nightlong revels, Budapest's residents pick their way to work along pock-marked sidestreets, gaze absently at the stripped-bark scaffolding on buildings gutted by Soviet tanks during the 1956 rebellion, queue up for the consumer goods that always seem to be in short supply. The Red army still stays prudently hidden in its camps ringing Budapest, and the hated AVH secret police have been replaced by a less conspicuously murderous bunch known as BKH, but nobody is enthusiastic about the "permissiveness" shown lately by Premier Janos Kadar.

"Don't let all this gaiety fool you," a Budapest writer warned an American visitor after a Farsang ball. "The young people are gay because they are young. The old people--they are gay because they don't know what comes tomorrow."

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