Tradition, the peacock’s tail of every identification of culture and nation, has a remarkable ability to tend towards its own monstrous manifestations – colorful costumes, national songs, folk architecture – all of which, seized by mortifying bureaucracy and institutionalism, transforms into kitschy and tasteless metastases.
Even as a child during the times of goulash socialism in Czechoslovakia, I was disgusted to watch the institutionalized tradition of “folklore performances” – formalized, orchestrated dance escapades of folklore ensembles somewhere in concrete monoliths called “houses of culture”.
However, when this phenomenon is transferred to Asia, which from our European perspective does not have “taste” (oh, all that goldies and tinsel on cheap Chinese plastic), the feeling of disgust and alienation is even stronger.
There is perhaps nothing more traditional in Kyrgyzstan than a nomadic yurt (in all tourist resorts right on the spot) and a tandyr (bread is always traditional, why is that?). And when you combine tradition with bad taste…
