La Parade Humaine

A favorite image from the Fellini exhibit. From the Jeu de Paume


The risotto, topped with the most delicious blacks truffles I have ever had

This weekend was one of extremes. I was either finally succumbing to jet lag, or throwing myself into the unpredictable mosh pit that is Parisian nightlife. As much as I love to sleep (and really I am incredibly good at it), it felt absolutely magnificent to go out for the first time in a month. Mostly we kept to St. Germain entertaining our anglophone tendencies at pubs, later switching it up at the most genuinely French bar I know, Chez Georges. This visit turned out to be a great success, as they played Sacré Charlemagne, a children's tune I memorized in high school. However, it must be said that when I was learning this chanson in third period, I never expected to be headbanging to it years later in an underground wine cave. Somehow I doubt this was the use my teacher intended.

Our second evening turned out to be a bit less low key, as we headed to the ever-entertaining Truskel to dance off the past week's macarons. Though it's extremely spacious by Parisian standards, the room always inevitably turns into a churning sea of humanity, making it too easy to meet "friends." One of our new companions for the night included a man whose mustache somewhat resembled Hitler's. We spent a good hour inventing immature but hilarious (to us) WWII-related pick-up lines before he introduced himself as Italian and a huge fan of Fellini. This ruined our fun.

Incidentally, I happened to go to the Fellini exhibit at the Jeu de Paume. As any of you who know me are aware, I am absolutely rabid for his films, so I was thrilled to see such an incredible homage to him, especially as it focused on his images and aesthetics. The costume section that showed his sketches of coats and dresses from La Strada and Il Notti di Cabiria, as well as the accompanying notes about "tits and bums" was one of the best. As someone who is constantly paying attention to clothing and costume, I've always enjoyed the stylistic choices in Fellini films. But to see how carefully he noted how Giulietta's hair should be done to achieve character honestly touched me. The show also explained that script was entirely secondary to his films. Fellini would only allow his actors to add words after they had played out the emotions of their scenes accompanied by counting from ten. For him, it was all about expression.

My unconscious Italian theme continued with black truffle risotto at L'Enoteca. The restaurant was lively and quite loud— a change from most of the places I've been dining. Perhaps the best part was our waiter, who shoved plates of food under our noses so we could smell them and insisted, his face expressive, that we savor every bite of our meals. All in all, it was quite Felliniesque.