Cordoba

The day after we got back from our funnymoon we set off on a road trip with the gang from Tarragona. The main purpose of this trip being Toni's wedding in a village down in bull territory - Cordoba. We passed miles and miles of countryside with not a person in sight but with more bulls than I have ever imagined possible to see in one day. It is really the heart of the bull fighting world. My husband, and the other boys we were eith are all passionate about their bulls and love to watch them. So, we pulled over and went as close as we dare to the wall to have a look at a few. They don't look very scary from such a distance but as soon as they move, you realise why it is that there is so mcuh distance between you and it. Apparently down in those parts of Spain if you want to become a bull fighter they put you out in the fields there to see how brave you are - to see if you can torrear a bull in the wild - with no wall close by to jump over like in the bull ring. I'll give that career a miss I think.

The wedding was very typical of a spanish village wedding. I loved it because, being in the south, there was lots of flamenco singing in the church - and I just can't get enough of that.

We definitely seemed to be the star guests of the wedding. Mainly because we were the only table with an average age of less than 50. Many tables were full of people well into their 80's ....or at least they looked that way. So, of course we took the place over and completely hogged the dance floor and carried on as though no one else was there. It was great fun!

Just a short blog today as I actually have to go and get ready for another wedding now. The guy in the beige suit in these pictures, otherwise known as "Big Member", is getting married to the beautiful only other tall girl in the photos above.

Adios

S xx

Funny Moon

It seems like ages ago now but I must report on our honeymoon, or "Funnymoon" as we were calling it - because we had such a larf! We had an amazing time. Look at the pictures. How could you not have an amazing time? First stop was Athens (see Jose Ramon pretending to be a statue) where we took in the Acropolis and other age old sites and visited the Greek Museum of Archeology. The cultural/historic side of Athens is very interesting. The ancient centre called Plaka is lovely and the ruins very impressive, but anything "modern" is just a disaster - a real dump (apart from the olympic stadium and new metro). The metro is worth a mention actually. People must be very honest in Athens. Their system would NEVER work in London. You buy your ticket, at the counter or from a machine, much like in London, but then in order to reach the platforms there are just a couple of machines dotted around in which you are supposed to insert your ticket to validate it (stamp a date and time on it) for your journey. There is nothing physically stopping you from (A) just walking straight past these validation machines, nor (B) not bothering to buy a ticket in the first place. When you leave a station - you don't need to pass anything through anything. So your only enemy is a human inspector coming on to the train and cheking your ticket. Well any fool knows the odds against that happening. They'd never take any money if it was London. Anyway, I digress .....

The Hilton was our home for the three nights we were in Athens and it is worth a visit even if you are not staying thre just for the view that it has from its top floor bar/restaurant. It has the best views in all of Athens - straight across to the Acroplolis (which is floodlight romantically at night as if it were a prop in a RSC production on stage). The restaurant and bar are impressive in themselves, if not a bit pricey, in fact a lot pricey ...but never mind - a mojito is a mojito.

Fira, the capital of Santorini (a Greek island) is a picturesque place that is almost too perfect to be believable. You could almost start to suspect that the Americans had spent billions and copied a greek style and created a paradise. But no, its real. Genuine authentic old style Greece. We stayed in an original dwelling carved into the rock face - as most of the buildings there are - with views striaght over the water to the crater of the volcanoe. Amazing. Every single day we gazed out from our terrace as though it were the first time we had seen the view. You just can't get used to it. Its too perfect to assimulate and take as the norm. Of course, the restaurants on the front line with a similar view also know the value of this vista and so prices at such spots can be very expensive, but defintely worth it at least every other night.

We hired a little smart car - the one in the picture - and I did all the driving (to give Jose a rest from normal life). It was a really cute way to get around. The roof came down and it was automatic so you felt like you were in a futuristic supermarket trolley or something like that. The island is only about 15 km by 3 km so we went to every village and beach that featured on the noddy map and really got to know the place. The best two authentic villages are Fira and Oia. Both absolutely gorgeous. The best beaches are Kamari and Perissa. Kamari is more established and has a front line of restaurants and tourist shops etc. Perissa seems to be only just getting going and is heading in the Ibiza direction will cool bars and funky beds on the beach with live dj's pumping out the tunes (some considerably more talented and aware of the music scene than others!). All beaches are black sand - because its volcanic. So, you know what that means! Burning burning burning. You can't put your foot on the sand for even 2 seconds - well not during August anyway.

I ate like there was no tomorrow. The food was heavenly. I'm veggie (as most of you know) and I was overjoyed at the selection. I think thats because I ahve been in Spain so long and so I was happy not have a massive leg of ham dangling over my head. Also I think the island was more veggie friendly than the main land would be due to the fact that they ahven't got any animals there! Anyway, whatever the reason - I loved it and I put on half a stone and so did my hubby. I've lost it again now but I'd be happy to put it on again if it meant I could be eating that food for a few more weeks.

Although Perissa is heading towards funky clubland, it is by no stretch of the imagination a spot to attract world ravers yet. Fira is the only place you can go out at night. Perissa has dancing on the beach and cocktails whilst still in your bikin but all of this seems to happen between about 6 and 9pm. Then people go home, lie down, get changed, go out for dinner and if they want to dance all night - go to Fira. We were staying in Fira and it seems that the best nights to go out are the nights when you can see that there are a couple of cruise ships in the water - as the population of the place mulitplies up noticeably. Santorini is full of Australian travellers, Mexican and North American cruise ship holidayers and people from mainland Greece. I hardly ever heard British English.

All in all a totally recomendable island. When is my next holiday? ........oh yes this Sunday! Ha ha. We are hopefully going to Colombia on Sunday. I say "hopefully" because I am currently in the middle of a ridiculous administrative cock up between Spaniar's office in Barcelona airport and a travel agency in Colombia which is resulting in that Spaniar won't physically give me my tickets, although I have paid for them, until the Colombian agency give them some sort of techincal information. Technial information! Bothered! Just give me the tickets and fight between yourselves over stupid codes. I've paid they are mine! Watch this space as to whether this gets resolved.

S xx

The wedding day - part 2

After being pelted with confetti, dangerously so by my Mum, and jammed back into the wedding car, Jose and I at last had our moment alone together to take in the day. The journey to Newby Hall was around half an hour and it was lovely to be squashed up to my new husband in the back of that car picking confetti out of each other’s hair. He kept telling me how gorgeous I looked, as he had done at the altar about four times. We felt so happy and alive.

We discussed how we had felt before and during the ceremony and I was surprised to hear of how nervous he had been before hand. Having noticed how calm I was throughout the ceremony, he was definitely shocked to hear of my wobbly legs and washing machine stomach back in the hotel. We agreed it was the enormity of marriage that had rocked us emotionally but that now we were fine and excited for the party.

All the time we were following the florist in his van and being followed by the photographer. It felt like we were on some sort of secret mission. I suppose we were all heading there with one objective - to get there before the coach load of guests in order to get some private photo shoot time and set out the flowers that had been brought from the altar to frame either side of the top table. It had been the photographer’s idea for us to race off after minimal time outside the church doors. He certainly knew what he was doing because time was short from the point of view of being able to fit in all the photos we wanted. The ones we got outside Newby Hall before everyone else arrived are fabulous (as you can see from the examples in this blog).

When everyone else arrived we took ourselves off into the house to freshen up whilst the guests attacked the Pimms and canapés. Then it was more photos. In fact we were being looked at through a lens for the whole hour and a half of the time before we went down to dinner in the marquee. We had started outside but then the heavens had opened and put a stop to that. The session resumed inside the house. The rain didn’t appear to spoil anything as everyone was so taken aback with the inside of the house that they seemed genuinely happy to have some time inside snooping around. The string quartet repositioned inside and all went swimmingly (excuse the pun). We, on the other hand, were becoming claustrophobic due to the constant flashing of cameras and requests to look this way or the other. I didn’t think I could ever regain my normal facial muscles. I feared they were locked in a film star smile forever. Every time the canapés were brought our way, a trail of guests would be following the tray – which only served to slow down the photo sessions, due to the wrong people being in shot. On noticing this, I kept ordering the canapés to go the other way, leaving us hungry but with a sense of the end nearing for the photos.

The time eventually chimed for us to brave the rain and head down to the marquee. I was covered with a golfing umbrella and aided with the lifting of my dress and set off across the lawns. He marquee looked amazing. It was standing alone in a backdrop of England’s finest fields. It looked so inviting. The lights, the noise, the sense of anticipation emanating were making me start to giggle. We stepped inside and everyone stood up and cheered and waved and smiled. I took Jose’s hand and led him to the dance floor. I know it should be him leading me but those of you who know me could have expected that I would be leading at this point. Our song was played and we hugged and moved and swung each other around. People hadn’t been expecting the first dance there and then so it seemed to catch people’s attention and their cheering carried on.

After a few minutes of dancing we turned to face the crowd and made our way to our places at the top table. It was then that I started quickly taking everything in about the marquee. Was everything where it should be? Had every detail I had planned been executed? Yes! It looked fabulous. Truly the best marquee I had ever seen, and that includes marquees at weddings on tv and films. Obviously it was exactly to my taste and so it was, for me, perfect. My mother in law, who has very fine taste, was quick to congratulate me when I reached the top table. She was very impressed and that meant a lot to me as her approval goes a long way in my Spanish family. There is a family joke that its near on impossible to achieve if you don’t let her choose or organise something. However, I was given a ten out of ten!

The arrival of the queen of sheeba

There is so much to record in relation to my experience of getting married that I am going to have to split it into sections. This section will take you up to the altar and into the arms of my awaiting groom.

I was out of bed before the alarm even went off. As I noted in my last blog, I didn’t sleep very well the night before the wedding. I don’t know of many brides who do. My friend Karen was apparently up doing her nails at 4am. Unfortunately I didn’t spend the night doing anything quite so practical – just worrying and wondering!

I woke up and knew I was tired, perhaps I could go so far as to say I was drained, already! I had got married 30 times during the night so what do you expect? I knew I had to eat a big breakfast as fuel for my panic stricken body was needed. The panic was by no means fear of getting married or of the future – nothing so dramatic. It was stress related simply to my perfectionist tendancies and worry that maybe something would go wrong on the day. Control freak is a term with which I am fairly familiar.

Nena and I went down to breakfast and joined my Mum, Step Dad, Dad and everyone else who passed by the table to wish me well – including the Groom! I know you are not supposed to see the Groom before the wedding but he didn’t know that – being Spanish and laid back. I wasn’t too fussed about that tradition anyway. I was happy to have been able to see that he was here, well, not hung over, ready and excited.

A few problems started to arise, such as: my Bridesmaid Heather refusing to stand up and translate my Father’s speech into Spanish (she lives here in Spain also and it is through me coming over to her birthday party that I met Jose Ramon in the first place); my mother in law refusing to have her hair dried in the hotel due to their not being air conditioning, and telling everyone else on the list for the poor hairdresser enlisted that their hair was going to look rubbish. I busied myself solving these hick ups for a while and then set off to the salon for my appointments accompanied by Nena and my mother in law. My mother in law was coming to try and get an appointment in my salon and Nena was continuing to be amazing and was coming with me to keep me company. By this point I was really regretting not having asked Nena to be my bridesmaid, as I had been doing for months. Nena was so naturally taking on the bridesmaid roles, and not through duty but through friendship and the big heart that she has. My other best friend Jo (Juanita Banana to avid readers of this blog) would also, without a doubt, have been amazing at helping me in these ways, but she was stuck in San Francisco unable to attend for fear of deportation from the United States (long story!).

The hair and makeup sessions went really well. Nena was great at helping to make all the vital last minute decisions – individual or strip false eyelashes, height of bun in my hair etc etc. I looked fabulous by the end of it even if I do say so myself! We then had to dash back to the hotel in the rain ……..but my fantastic Mum had popped down with an umbrella mid session to save us – she was thinking of everything.

A few of the men from in law family were gathered in the hotel reception so Nena expertly diverted them whilst I legged it to the elevator, adamant that they shouldn’t see my hair and make up. I was going for maximum impact at the big entrance at the church doors!

Upstairs in the honeymoon suite we were joined by my Mum, sister, the photographers and with not very long to go Heather. The photographer was snapping away as I climbed into my dress and prepared myself. If you have been married or have seen a close friend’s photos then you know the routine – dreamy looks out to the distance, posing on the four poster bed, shots of the shoes, the tiara ……. Throughout all of this my legs were starting to give way. They were seriously trembling. I’d have given Elvis Presley a run for his money. No one noticed because they were hidden by my enormous dress but I seriously wondered how I would walk with these rubber pins. My stomach was starting to become a problem also. The old washing machine effect was beginning to make an appearance. At one point I had to tell my Mum to get everybody out and then to help me get myself to the toilet whilst still in “the dress” – which had a personality all of its own. It was somewhat of an accomplishment to lift the weight of that dress above my head whilst jammed in at one side by a wall. I know that it is quite normal for a toilet to be positioned alongside a wall but honestly how inconvenient! Honeymoon suites, at least, should not present this design fault.

It was nearing time to set off to the church, but we could still here Spaniards outside in the street below my terrace. Heather yelled to them in Spanish to get to the church and hurry up. “Why?” was a response I heard from one of them! I don’t think they understood that I would not be leaving the room until they were sat down in the church. In Spain they often wait outside the church to see the bride arrive. No way Jose, maximum impact at church doors remember!

The guests finally cleared off and I was able to make my descent to the hotel lobby, where I was cooed and wowed over by random women down there. One Scottish lady reminded me to swap my engagement ring over to the other hand. Thank you that lady!

Dad and the chauffer squashed me into the back of the vintage car and off we went, accompanied by cheers, applause, beaming faces and thumbs up all the way through the streets of Harrogate. I felt like a film star!

When we turned into Robert Street, we could see that Jose and his ushers and bestmen were still outside the church. I panicked that they would see me. Dad covered my face at the window and ordered the driver to drive on, fast, and hide at the end of the road. They seemed to get the hint when the car sped past and they made there way in which enabled us to come out of hiding and pour me out of the car.

The two ushers at the doorway seemed to just be staring at me. They didn’t say “you look lovely” or anything like that. They just stared – but there expressions told me everything. They hadn’t seen me like that before.

After a few photos at the church doors with my Dad, I told the ushers to open the doors. Dad and I were standing there facing the aisle and as the doors opened there were camera flashes going off like a movie premier. As we stepped forward out of the sun and into the church there was what every girl wants to hear – an audible gasp from the women and some of the men. Suddenly, the rubber legs turned to legs of a race horse – strong and agile and wanting to go forward. The washing machine stomach settled and I began to float. I enjoyed walking down the aisle so much. I took in where everyone was, smiled at people, enjoyed the music, even had a little comedy wiggle of my bum to the melody ……. but all the time I was heading for my man and meeting his eyes and matching his emotion. He was radiating such happiness but also looked like he was going to cry. He was, at this point far less in control looking than I was. Overawed I think was how he described himself.

It was a defining moment when my Dad took my hand and placed it in Jose’s hand. Both men looking each other in the eye to acknowledge the seriousness of what they were symbolising by this action. From that moment, and more so throughout the ceremony, we were joined as a unit which will never be broken.

I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine.

S xx