Venezia

Venezia. A labyrinth disguised as a city. 

"All the food is overpriced," our host tells us, "Don't eat on the island." Our stomachs already growling as the train pulls into St. Lucia station, we curse every bakery and pizzeria on our way to the Rialto Bridge. Why must everything look so delicious and smell so good? Is this Venice or a Greek myth? 

Venezia

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Double Feature: Heart of Africa | January in Japan

I like to take films as stand-alone universes, isolated bubbles of contrived truth borne from the lens of a unique point of view. But there's something about juxtaposition that raises questions and brings details to light. 

Two films that are a part of the well-worn legacy of the travelogue, where the filmmaker goes somewhere with little pre-written, and leaves composition for the editing suite. Both are portraits of places through an outsider's lens, composed of breathtaking shot after breathtaking shot and playing with a particular rhythm of life.

Heart of Africa from Michael Sugrue on Vimeo.

January in Japan from Scott Gold on Vimeo.

As I watched these two short films, two thoughts came to mind.

First, I caught myself thinking that Sugrue had captured the dynamism of Africa, before realizing that I had no idea what the "dynamism of Africa" was, just that it was a conception of the continent (of which, surely, all regions cannot be dynamic in the same way) that came easily to the tip of the tongue.

Indeed, both societies are portrayed in line with the general perception of them by the rest of the world, but how much of that perception is inherent to the society and how much comes from the hand of the filmmaker? Does the filmmaker himself view the society through that lens, thus creating a self-fulfilling prophecy?

Second, that despite the ubiquity of Western culture these days, cultural differences still manage to shine through in each film. I don't like comparing a continent to a country, but I think I'll have to in this case for simplicity. In both films, we see typically "Western" clothing, as well as technologies and modes of transport. Yet they remain quite distinct from one another. It's somewhat heartening to see this, especially in the face of all the doomsday globalization homogenization talk I've become accustomed to hearing, but the first question is raised once again. How much of it is true and how much is self-perpetuating stereotype?

Double Feature: Heart of Africa | January in Japan

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Picnic at the Parc de Champagne

Saturday morning I had a study picnic at the park with some friends. Naturally, it ended up being more picnic than studying. I could never give up the eternal Californian sunshine, but spring is so much more precious after a long gray winter. The city comes back to life when the sun stops being shy. 

As the day went on, people arrived with their blankets and bags, claiming spots untouched by the creeping shade. Children kicked around yellow footballs and young couples lay side by side, their cell phones raised skyward as a bizarre offering. The wind rustling the tree branches sounded like the ocean, so when I lay my head down on my bag and closed my eyes it was almost like I was at the beach back home, surrounded by giggling children and friendly conversation. But the voices around me rang with foreign phonemes, and I became acutely aware of my presence in a foreign country. 

Clearly, every day I walk past signs that this is not America. But those sort of momentous epiphanies don't occur as you go about your everyday life. And that lack of contextualization is what I haven't been able to explain about being here. It just doesn't feel all that different, until one day I happen to look back and realize just how much I've picked up. One day I'm lying in a park on chalky grape-growing soil listening in on conversations that have nothing to do with the world in which I've spent most of my life. And in that moment, that world ceases to exist. 

Picnic at the Parc de Champagne

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Patisserie Discoverie | Dôme aux biscuits roses

When in France...all anyone ever brings up is the food! Soon I'll have to leave all the deliciousness behind, but before I do, I'm going to stuff my face with as many different patisseries as I can from the local boulangerie in the name of cultural education.

Voilà, the "dome of pink biscuits." Sometimes you regret translating French, because all the fanciness evaporates and you end up feeling like you're about to eat a bald Candyland character.

Aside from champagne and the cathedral that never stops giving, Reims is famous for its biscuits roses. Depending on who you ask, they are either a charming regional specialty or compressed drywall.

So this is a...thing...made of biscuits roses. I will get better at describing food. For now I just start salivating and lose all linguistic faculty. Because between speaking and eating, I'd rather use my mouth for the latter.

Besides, the photos will tell you all you need to know...I mean, imagine if Proust had an Instagram.

Madeleines! #tasteslikechildhood #socrumbly #nom

And just like that, hundreds of French literature students would have the time to invent life-changing technologies or something. Imagine the progress! ...Do you ever think about how much we could get done if we stopped rewarding loquaciousness in academia?

Anyway, I was curious about what was inside. The outer shell is made of a gloopy pink gel that made me question its edibility. I accidentally touched the pastry several times taking it out of the box, but the gloop would just congeal and return to form. This patisserie is self-healing, guys. Plastic surgeons, look into this.

Was it gelatin? Was it cake? Was it a house of worship for fairies? 

One of the above. It's basically a spongy pink cake layered on a paper-thin biscuit rose crust, with a vanilla bean pudding on top. There are raspberries scattered throughout, as well as pockets of raspberry syrup. Finally, the whole thing is covered in a thick pink glaze and garnished with a raspberry and a piece of the famous biscuit. 

Despite the lack of praying fairies inside, I enjoyed it. I really liked the biscuit rose crust, which added a bit of crunch to each bite, as well as the pudding's strong vanilla flavor. Word of warning: it's quite sweet. As for the raspberries, well fruit already freaks me out a little and I don't know if you've noticed, but raspberries are hairy, so...I ate them but let's not talk too much about it.

Patisserie Discoverie | Dôme aux biscuits roses

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The Grand Budapest Hotel

I went to see The Grand Budapest Hotel last night with friends, and I liked it a lot. After a hellish week, a good movie is a necessary palate cleanser.

Ralph Fiennes' performance as M. Gustave was the highlight of the film - he really carried it and smoothed over the rough patches. And while the frame story with the author rang a bit wooden and did not completely capture my attention, I loved the opening of the core plot itself, especially the interaction between M. Gustave and Madame D.

I always enjoy Wes Anderson's work for their contained and detailed universes, as well as his impeccable sense of comic timing, but he does employ a certain affectation that constantly jolts me out of the movie's universe. While you enjoy what unfolds before you, you are acutely aware that you are watching a film.

In the end, however, who is to say an affected style is wrong? But my thoughts on film criticism and analysis are for another day. For now, I'm content because a good movie with friends was the perfect end to a relaxed and productive day.

In any case, the process behind a film is infinitely more interesting than trading opinions, so:

• The New York Times has a look at the miniatures built for exterior shots of the Grand Budapest Hotel
• Willem Dafoe talks about working with Wes Anderson
• A look at moments behind the scenes
• On Wes Anderson and Stefan Zweig, whose work inspired the film
• The graphic designer behind the movie's props 

And check out the amazing website and tumblr - people have been getting really inventive with online marketing.

The Grand Budapest Hotel

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Weekend Roundup

What to do this weekend:

Relive the 90s (even if you were but a wee nerd child unaware of anything but classical music)

Take part in an epic online game of cadavre exquis

Make cacti cupcakes

What I've been reading lately:

On mythology and personal history 

In light of Lupita Nyong'o's Oscar win

Contextualizing what's happening in Ukraine

Interesting profile of Parisian graphic designer Philippe Apleoig

Photo by Joanna Kitchener

Weekend Roundup

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Enlightened

One day they'll find my collection of dead bugs too,

and then it won't be hoarding, but

a gift of knowledge to mankind.

Enlightened

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London Town

I don't think I will ever get my fill of London. A true monster of a city, it swallowed me up and spit me back out without a second thought. Which just makes me want to poke at it again with a shorter stick. And I have to say London does Christmas better than any city I've ever visited. 

The cutest children's tour at the fashion exhibit. Everyone had a hat and the guide was this rosy-cheeked woman who was so enthusiastic, it felt like she was leading them into a magic marshmallow kingdom and not a weirdly-lit room full of old clothes. ...I would have followed her into the magic marshmallow kingdom.

 "...if one cannot be both it is better to be feared than loved." -Niccolò Machiavelli

London Town

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Once More, With Gusto

I need to be honest with you and share my little existential crisis.

I say little. It's been growing bigger and scarier for several years. 

Every so often, I ask myself why I keep shouting in the echo chamber. Why I dedicate so much of time to the presentation of life. I wonder if I've been busy missing the desert for a grain of sand, and I wonder what is worth giving my attention to in this world. 

Most bloggers wake up at some point with such a crisis, but it's the ones who power through that make it, in the end.

So here I am, wiping the slate clean and powering through.

Once More, With Gusto

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