Where do I start - the 170 year old club where the reception was held, or the Galician bagpiper who led the guests into the chapel? Do I talk about the multi-course dinner with perfect wine pairings after I mention the seemingly endless parade of tapas served with chilled cava before dinner? What about the nights leading up to the wedding? How do I squeeze all that in? And the Orujo de Hierbas? And the full-sized disco in the basement? How do I break this event down into something the few people who read this blog can enjoy?
Let's start with the church:
Madrid is not known for its churches, but several lovely ones do exist and this is one of them. Right on Calle de Alcalá, with a bus stop out front, it is a workaday church that fills the urban neighborhood's spiritual needs. And on special occasions they light the interior and folks realize, "wow, this really is pretty."
This church made for the perfect setting for my cousin Miriam's wedding. She was born in Madird. She attended school nearby. She now lives a few blocks over, in a stylish apartment in the heart of the city, where she walks 20 minutes to her job as an attorney with an international firm. She is a Madrilena through and through, and a church elsewhere, even in a quieter part of town, would not have been right.
The groom, Marcos, is Galician, though he now lives in Barcelona. He is also an attorney, and he is charming and gregarious and the two seem so perfectly matched one pictures them in porcelain miniature, propped on the tops of cakes everywhere.
And yes, I did say he lives in Barcelona and she in Madrid. They see each other on weekends. It is not ideal, but it is the way it is, at least for now, and they make it work. The Spanish economy being what it is, these are not days in which one acts rashly with one's career decisions. This all makes me root for them even more.
Moving along, this is Oscar, the priest for this church. I didn't speak with him, but he appeared kind, and humble, and relaxed. Miriam told of getting to know him and his help in getting her qualifications in order to get married at this church. All of this was well and good, but probably not really blog-post worthy, until I saw his footwear...
Who wouldn't love a priest who sports stylish boots like those? At first I thought they were Timberlands, immediately picturing Oscar as an aficionado of late 90's hip hop, but found out they were an even cooler Spanish brand. In short, Oscar the priest is a bit of a hipster, my friends. He is a hipster for Jesus, and he is alright with me.
Somehow Marissa and I got seated in the very front row. We could see all of the action. We are both a bit sentimental and found ourselves misty-eyed through most of the proceedings. When Uncle Manuel spoke, I just about lost it completely. The always light-on-his-feet, able to converse on any topic with anyone, ultimate raconteur was, for the first time that I am aware of, quieted, if only for a moment, by the marriage of his daughter. He spoke well, and what he said was deeply touching, but his voice was just above a whisper and his tone was soft and gentle. It was a watershed moment, to be sure. At that point I almost began howling like an orphaned baby, but managed to hold it together.
The ceremony wrapped up, the groom kissed the bride, and cameras clicked back into action, capturing one of the most photogenic, picture-perfect wedding parties I have ever laid eyes on. Just look at the photograph above, for crying out loud, and tell me this wasn't the most perfect European wedding in history. The action was pretty short-lived, however, because mass was scheduled to begin in about 5 minutes. I told you, this is a working church in a very busy neighborhood. Souls needed nourishment, nuptials of the beautiful people notwithstanding.
So we spilled out of the church, adding a healthy dose of sparkle to the street and a nice show for the Saturday afternoon shoppers heading home from the Puerta del Sol and El Corte Inglés.
The early (and in Spain this was still very early, practically afternoon, really) evening air was warm and slightly breezy. Love - and a wee bit of arousal - was in the air. The Casino de Madrid was just a short walk up the gently sloping street, where an almost unimaginably luxurious wedding reception, dinner and party awaited us.
"Will and Kate who?" I asked. "Will and Kate who?"
Bonus scene, the Galician Bagpiper calls us into the chapel...
