The advantages of being an Expat is that, once in a while, you receive rather glamorous cocktail invitations. Such was the case last week when Italy celebrated it's Republic (National) Day.
I had my nails done, my hair set, and showed off my latest aquisition, a bright coloured, geometrical patterned dress and a pair of orange sandal with 15 cm of heel. (I'm not sure they'd technically pass as sandals?). And, of course, the matching handbag!
Geared up to the max, I accompanied my hubby to the lavishing Italian embassy in Rue Varenne.
Walking into the stone-cobbled courtyard, we came across a Maserati from 19?? which supposedly had won a F1 championship in it's hey-days. Italians and their cars... it is an eternal love story!
We were greeted by the Ambassador and his wife and were shown along into the garden. A garden that resembled a curated parc bordered with rhododendrons and statues lining the pebbled path. Sumptuous would be the word.
SCROUMPTIOUS is what I would call the buffet. Not one, but four buffets were laid out offering octopus risotto, melanzane alla parmigiana, fresh real Italian mozzarella, salami and focaccia.
Sfogliatelle, pastiera, baba al rhum, gelato and strawberries were difficult desserts to choose from, so I just a bit of each!
At this point I am wondering who are the Italians out to impress? Then I remembered, Italy will be holding the Presidency of the Council of the European Union as of this summer! And their biggest alley is France, therefore must be treated and chouchouter (pampered) accordingly!
While the Italian ambassador is giving his speech addressing the guests in near perfect French and I am watching him standing in front of his impressive residence, I can't help thinking of our Italian experience in New York a few weeks ago. This is a far cry away from Little Italy.