Ah, what could be greater than seeing two great people tie the knot? Outside. On a nice day. With people who are super happy about the marriage. Oh, yeah, and it was in Spain.
The wedding was a bit of a social experiment. I think the bride and groom might have been a little nervous about the whole thing. Cultures clashing. In-laws meeting. Patty made honest-to-God PowerPoint slides to ease the culture shock. I don’t know why she’d be nervous that twenty or so monolinguals (well, some of us have rudimentary Spanish skills) from South Dakota are being dropped into the middle of Andalusia. I was just excited to see Brian (the groom’s dad) in a suit.
On the outside anyway, everything went off without a hitch (except, yes, the actual hitching). Jordan and I had a great time at the wedding. I’m pretty sure everyone else who attended would agree that they had as well. I’ve never been the guest at a destination wedding or international wedding before, so while I was really there to see Brian in the suit, I was also curious to see what differences there might be between weddings in Spain and weddings in the States. The dancing was, well, of a different caliber than I’m used to (I can’t fake flamenco steps), but in general the ceremony progressed into the meal and dance like you’d expect from a typical North American wedding.
The wedding location was lovely, a lush little oasis of forest tucked away outside the suburbs of the city.
The in-laws to be helped the groom with his corsage…
Props lined the trees…
Women donned their best attire…
When everyone arrived, the guests took their seats (if they could find one…). The bride entered, on the arm of her charming father…
The vows were said, the anecdotes were told, and the blessings given. And then the bride was pummeled with rice…
I mean, seriously, look at that brutal rice attack!
People took pictures to celebrate the occasion…
And we all found our way to the hors d’oeuvres and the beverages. I felt like a kid in the candy shop, nibbling at whatever passed by. Well, almost, I was off the vegetarian bandwagon and onto the pescatarian one. So, I didn’t find my hands full of the serrano ham that was available. (Edited later: Oh, the regret!) But the rest, yeah, I was on board.
One of the drink options was tinto verano (pictured below with
the lovely models my relatives), which is red wine mixed with a lemon or lime seltzer of some kind. Not bad, Spain, not bad.
The husband does look nice in a suit, huh? And he’s seems pretty comfortable with gazpacho in hand.
Here was my favorite treat of the cocktail hour.
This couple did a lot of tour guiding for the weekend. Always with a smile. We could tell why Patty’s family enjoys having them around as company.
All good things must come to an end, including delicious trays of hors d’oeuvres. Marriages, too, but only with death. Got that, newlyweds?
After the trays were emptied and the bellies tickled, we headed to find our mesa. Wouldn’t you know, most of us anglophones got grouped together. Logical, right? Truly, but it was a little hilarious when we had to combine years of rusty high school Spanish to ask our server for a fork or go to another table to ask for explanations on what we were yelling after forcing the young couple into public displays of affection.
The meal was delicious. Well, I trust that the pork was too. I photographed it, but couldn’t manage to eat any. The meal was also long. I hadn’t been in the habit of eating meals in courses, so from appetizer to main to dessert to coffee seemed like a real treat, but long at the same time. But that was good. Time doesn’t always have to fly when you’re having fun, does it?
There was even an extra round of smaller desserts/wafers to go along with it. Night was settling in at this point, and I just couldn’t be bothered with ISO issues. As the night continued, my shot quality decreased. Truly, a lighting issue–cross my heart and hope to
die take better shots at the next wedding I attend. (It was tempting to make a joke here about taking fewer shots at the next wedding, but I swear, Mom, shot taking was super limited unless you count the chicken soup).
Out came les moustaches and cigars for the men. Women were each given flip-flops in case they wanted to ditch the high heels they’d borrowed from a co-worker. Oh wait, maybe that was just me packing co-workers’ high heels across the Atlantic. I find ways to afford plane tickets, but not my own shoes. I digress…back to this wedding!
Hey, by the way, we really enjoyed hanging out with Casey, our mutual friend from college (university if you’re outside States). Casey was our original matchmaker. There would be no “Jordan and Cassie” without Casey.
After the cigar ruckus but before the dance began, we used the time for a few framed shots. I couldn’t resist the urge.
The New American Gothic
The dance lasted long into the night. I can’t even tell you how long. We left shortly after the chicken soup dance break. I think we made it back to our hotel around 3:30 of the a.m. Craziness.
Patty, Kyle, thanks for letting us join you for the wedding. It was an honor. And really run, too.