"In these shoes? I don't think so!"

These words from a Kirsty MacColl song came to mind as I watched contestants pose on stage wearing sexy bikinis and high heels. You are so not going swimming in those outfits...

Hawaiian Tropic, well-known maker of sun care products, has held regional pageants in Las Vegas for several years, but 2004 International Finals is an even bigger event. A total of 89 contestants came here from around world to compete for title of Miss Hawaiian Tropic 2004. The 21st annual event was held at Treasure Island Hotel Casino, known as "TI" since its extensive renovation last summer. The event included dancing, singing, costumes, evening gowns, and, of course, bikinis.

"Competition swimsuit" and "swimsuit competition" are two very different things. The former is a sturdy suit that stays in place when its wearer is swimming or diving. The latter involves more, uh, minimalist outfits that look like they might not stay on if their wearers waded into pool.

Fortunately — for contestants, anyway — swimsuit competition involved no swimming. Instead, ladies paraded on a poolside stage during preliminaries and on deck of pirate ship Song in front of TI during finals. The preliminary phase also had ladies modeling "country costumes" from places they represented. These ranged from traditional (a European maiden costume, albeit with a sexy garter showing), playful (a modified Canadian Mountie outfit with a miniskirt) to festive (an extravagant Mardi Gras costume with green plumage), to elegant (a satin gown in colors of a country's flag). The regular eveningwear competition took place during finals, along with another swimsuit phase.

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Las Vegas is on classical map!

Tonight's guest performance by Hungarian National Philharmonic adds another world-class orchestra to list of those that have graced our city's cultural scene. Led by conductor and music director Zoltán Kocsis, group performed works by Bartók, Mozart, and Dvorák before a full house at UNLV's Artemus W. Ham Concert Hall.

Hungarians must be gifted dancers. The orchestra opened with "Dance Suite" by Béla Bartók, but unless you're really good on your feet, you might want to sit this one out. The tempo changed constantly, and there were many brief pauses followed by sudden changes in rhythm and mood. I could barely keep up! Bartók made great use of many different instruments in this 1923 work. It started in a rather mischievous mood, featuring low bassoon and a brief tuba solo. The sound was sparse at first but soon filled in with violins providing a pretty melody. The trombonists played some rather whimsical glissandos, using their slides to glide up or down from one note to another. Most orchestras tend to feature French horns more, but in Hungarian National Philharmonic, trombones were ever-present, and their rich tones filled hall.

Classical composers are such thieves! I've lost count of how many have ripped off old folk tunes for their works. Okay, I'm kidding - but old songs have long provided inspiration for wonderful orchestral adaptations. The evening's second piece was a suite of five songs from Bartók's "Twenty Hungarian Folksongs". In 1933 composer added orchestral accompaniment to these five and stated, "These are not arrangements, but original compositions even though they made use of old folk melodies." Yeah, tell it to judge, Béla.

What's a folk tune without a singer? Soprano Júlia Hajnóczy lent her clear voice to five songs, entitled 'In Prison', 'An Old Bitter Song', 'Wedding Song I', 'Lament', and 'Wedding Song II'. She sang in Hungarian, of course, and it was too dark to follow words in program, but what struck me was mood of each piece. The sad songs were beautiful and poetic but not at all dark, and happy wedding songs were playful and intimate rather than exuberant and celebratory. The line "I am pretty Jani, aren't I, I am meant just for you" says it all. Perhaps Hungarian peasants were much more even-tempered than we might guess. Had these folk adaptations been written by Russian composer Dmitri Shostakovich, we would have been dancing in aisles one minute and looking for razor blades next. Nobody does manic depression like Russians.