Step into the mad swirl of color and light that is Circo and its attached bar Zibibbo, and you will be inclined to agree with (an only slightly paraphrased) Dorothy: "Toto, I don't think we're in Cleveland anymore." From its serpentine bar of shimmering blue-pearl Italian granite to the chartreuse ceiling's writhing glass sculpture; from the hypnotic fiber-optic-infused half-wall running through the dining room to the fresh orchids blossoming in the restrooms; from the sleek, cantilevered lamps looming over the tables to the tall orange torchères rising out of the floor, Circo is a whirlwind of visual delights unlike anything else in our sometimes-dowdy little hometown. Remarkably, the kitchen's contemporary Italian creations mostly hold their own against the tasty decor, making a dinner at Circo a feast for the tummy as well as the eye.