The flaxen-haired German woman is clueless.

We find ourselves in Düsseldorf, in the headquarters of the Malkasten arts association.  The mellowed building of the Jacobihaus in this not overly pretty town is the oldest Künstlerverein in the whole of Germany, and we are here because the city fathers of North Rhine Westphalia decided to show Hungarian journalists the series of programmes called Scene Ungarn.

Fourteen towns are participating from the province, which happen to belong to the Ruhr area. This year Pécs and Istanbul are Europe's capitals of culture along with the Ruhr, which explains why Hungary was selected to be the focus of a programme that lasts for several months and is organised here every two years to introduce the culture of a nation.

The flaxen-haired leader of the association has to open some doors in the empty building to throw some light on the exhibition. In the showcases in one of the rooms are the works of János Fodor: interesting little sculptures supposedly commemorating the Battle of Augsburg of 955, which put an end to the period of Hungarian adventurers. Or so we were told - it would have been impossible to tell otherwise.

In any case, the exhibited works of the two other Hungarian artists here in Düsseldorf do not reflect any level of triumph either. Marcell Esterházy's photos are spread out on the stair hall and in another room, while Júlia Vécsei's two works are also placed in tucked away spaces. Dust and paint squeezed in between glass plates - two such works by Vécsey are displayed. One of the glass plates is gaping open and most of the paint is covering the table. "Is it supposed to be like this?" This is what the director is clueless about. We could surmise that we are looking at a damaged work - it's just that nobody has noticed, this being modern art and all. Maybe the artist wanted it like this anyway. But nobody is interested and the Malkasten is only open to visitors on Tuesdays, from 7.00 p.m. to 10.00 p.m. in any case. Hungary has been hidden away.

Hiller et al did not care at all

After this soul-stirring experience we head off for the municipal Tanzhaus. Once a tram depot now converted into a cultural space, it is similar to Budapest's Millenáris, but the way it is financed serves as a good example: the town only pays half of its costs, and the Tanzhauz has to come up with the rest. No exclusivity of high culture here: dancing tuition is available for every age group and in every genre.  
In the evening the large hall is turned over to contemporary dance. Within the framework of a Hungarian series, the József Nagy troupe of Magyarkanizsa, which as trained in Paris and is well known in contemporary dance circles, presents its production titled The Length of 100 Needles. A good half house.

The live music is brilliant, the show is terrible. For two minutes it is actually funny as a caricature of contemporary (fine) art, as the performers spit and smear white paint on black paper, then hang their masterpieces of a few seconds preparation on the wall. But half an hour of this is a drag. Even for the Germans: at the end the show is given brief applause, which could only be described as polite.

In the course of this series of events from April to August, 109 Hungarian artists will participate in more than two hundred events, and they will naturally be grateful to the Germans, who paid 1.2 million Euros to fund the Scene Ungarn. However, the question of who represents Hungarian culture was partially answered on a who-knows-who basis, and mostly depended on coincidences like there happening to be a scholarship-holder in the arts association in Düsseldorf, a person from Pécs even, who called a few friends.

The Hungarian Ministry of Culture ignored the whole project - this is something we find out the next day from the director of the province's government, Susanne Düwel, who is responsible for international cultural relations.  She even enquired if there would now be a change in attitude towards culture. She speaks with frankness unusual for a cultural diplomat: she also feels that this series of programmes focusing on one nation at a time needs to be reconsidered.

Since every town decides on its own whom to invite, the festival becomes haphazard and this makes it impossible for the event to appear as a real series of programmes amidst such a cavalcade of culture. Standardisation is out of the question: since the province was artificially patched together after World War II, every settlement and town sticks to its own cultural policy.

As opposed to Prussia or Bavaria, there was never a king or a prince here who created central, large collections: culture was nurtured by the citizens of various towns.

They have no idea here what Balaton is

The title "capital of culture", originally won by the city of Essen, was extended to the Ruhr's 52 settlements. Being defined as the largest metropolis of the world should have promoted some kind of homogenisation. In this sense, the failure is the story of the German European Capital of Culture. And it's no wonder: local identity here is very strong. Just one example: while in Düsseldorf they only drink the local Alt beer, in Cologne they would never touch it - they swear by their own Kölschük.

Now onto Dortmund. Football world cup, and the Germans are just playing the Serbs - everybody is in the streets and in pubs, offices having let people go early so they could watch the match on a big screen or at home. Thus, the Hungarian exhibition entitled "German unity at Lake Balaton", by the Museum of Art and Art History resounds with empty echoes. One of the museum staff explains that it's not just because of the world cup.

They had counted on far more visitors, but while in Berlin everybody knows what Lake Balaton is and what role it played in bringing about German reunification, in these parts of the country nobody has a clue. The exhibition is splendid. Videos, personal stories, oral history - what people expect these days. There is even an account by a former Stasi officer, which is very moving.

In the unfinished U-Haus building (heavens, it's not just in Hungary that there are delays in European Capital of Culture developments) are the Agents&Provocateurs, formerly on display in Dunaújváros. Here one does not feel that moved. Contemporary art and provocation: the exhibition addresses the issue of provocation but is self-indulgent and meaningless. Some of the better quality works could at best pass for good fun. There is nothing more pathetic than when provocation is institutionalised as an artistic expectation, and the all-knowing snobs of contemporary art all hum to the tune in exchange for free entrance tickets.

Proudly at last

To Essen in the evening. Once Europe's largest mine, the Zollverien, which shut down in 1986, is the symbol of the town. It is also cultural centre now. In the local theatre Eszter Salamon's performance titled Hungarian Dances is the first production we can be really proud of.

Hungarian Dances teaches an awful lot to audiences about dance, and about the relationship between folk and contemporary dance, as well as between community-centred tradition and modern individualism. Eszter Salamon talks into the microphone in English about her professional life, and then illustrates what she has said: wonderful live folk music, amazing dances. She stirs your emotions without resorting to kitsch. Frantic applause from the full house.

The third day is packed full of events too, but the Hungarian part only comes on in the evening: a contemporary dance performance where the soul is kneaded like a piece of bread. This time in Cologne Tünet Együttes [Symptom Group] performs its production titled Nothing There.

It is amazing. Fear, dread, love, sex: profound human experiences and amazing expressivity, with light and projection that follows the dancers' movements. This is not cheap sensation: light is an organic part of the show and often takes an independent role. The high standard performance shows the talent of director Réka Szabó, but the splendid dancers must not be forgotten either, especially Rita Góbi, who deserves a special mention.

The last day. Again in Essen. The Folkswang Museum. We came here last four years ago and at the time were surprised that the works of Van Gogh, Cézanne, Rodin, Matisse, Manet, Gauguin and Kirchner were on the walls of a museum building of an industrial town that looks exactly like a socialist community house. Since then the building has been converted, new parts have been added to it, and the reconstruction was completed by 1 January. At last a successful European Capital of Culture project. The new building is fascinating and there could not be a more worthy place for such an unrivalled collection - there are winding queues in front of the museum.

Finally, back to the Zollverien mine, where we are acquainted with mining life in the past and wonder at the machines that could process 22 thousand tonnes of coal per day in the buildings that once proclaimed the power of German industry, and now form part of the world heritage. What matters is not really what kind of exhibitions are staged here, but rather that the cultural defibrillator - and lots of money - was able to bring back to life a mine which is a symbol of the Ruhr's past and its ambitions for the future at the same time, thus taking the local identity of the place across the river. And this is the most a capital of culture project can hope to achieve.