As the curtain rises on the Israeli Opera’s new production of Tosca in Tel Aviv, director Iddo Riklin’s programme notes land like a cold blade. “In the period when I grew up we believed that the history of wars was over,” he writes, “and behold around us, in the whole world, a wave of fascism, oppression, xenophobia, homophobia. We believed that good wins, but what if not?” The staging, conducted by Dan Ettinger with guest soloists, runs through the week at the Performing Arts Center, its tale of love, power and political cruelty reframed as a wake-up call for a present that feels, to Riklin, alarmingly familiar.

Across the Mediterranean, Stockholm’s Moderna Museet is also looking back at a period when optimism curdled. The exhibition “Blir du lönsam, lille vän?” (Will you be profitable, little friend?) gathers a hundred works from 1945 to 1979, among them pieces by Carl Johan De Geer, Siri Derkert and Öyvind Fahlström. At its centre sits P O Ultvedt’s “Manhattan tjugo år senare”, a work that, like the Tosca production, seems to ask what became of post-war dreams. The same city offers a lighter counterpoint: at Gregersboda gård, Kulleteatern stages “Den jäktade – om vi hinner!”, a farce inspired by the British format “The Play That Goes Wrong”, in which everything that can collapse on stage does.

Half a world away, Brasília is closing its own artistic stocktaking. The exhibition “Constelações Contemporâneas” at the Teatro Nacional ends its three-month run on 17 July, having presented 41 local artists working across sculpture, watercolour, collage and performance. Curated by Mônica Tachotte, the show was conceived as proof of the capital’s creative vitality. Outside the gallery, the city’s cultural calendar spills into football (Flamengo versus Olimpia at the Mané Garrincha stadium), samba-and-feijoada Saturdays at Ordinário Bar, and a new cevicheria from chef Renata Carvalho.

In Tokyo, the conversation turns to the everyday object. 7-Eleven Japan has released an Avocado Sando that, with its vivid green and red cross-section, masquerades as a fruit sandwich while containing pork ham, tomato and a tangy Cobb’s sauce. Priced at 399 yen, it is a small, deliberate confusion of categories—botanically, both avocado and tomato are fruits, yet the sandwich sits firmly in the savoury aisle. Starbucks Japan, meanwhile, is preparing a trio of orange-and-mango drinks for 22 July: a pulp-packed Frappuccino, a sparkling Chillax Soda, and a Craft Juicy Tea that balances fruit sweetness with black-tea bitterness.

Bengaluru’s new openings speak a similarly globalised culinary language. NoBa, a 120-seat cocktail bar in Kalyan Nagar, builds its programme around technique and storytelling, with drinks such as Between The Lines and Nutty Professor. The Hood by Olive has installed a Bear Claw Window—a walk-up ice cream counter inspired by Japan’s “bear paw” cafes—serving soft-serve swirls flavoured with Japanese caramel, Lebanese cardamom-spiced chocolate and Italian affogato. At Kinya Coffee in Indiranagar, weekend breakfast boards roam from a London Fry-up to Turkish çılbır, while Yauatcha’s monsoon menu pairs jasmine tea with vegetable crystal dumplings. In Tel Aviv, the final chords of Tosca fade, leaving Riklin’s question hanging in the air.