Destination Bride Part Six: Nantucket

The Olympics have left us and now I am back to reality.

Luckily my reality is planning a wedding!  MUHAHAHAHAHA!!

I last left us on the blue and white island of Santorini. Now it's time for us to head to another island, just off the shores of Cape Cod, Massachusetts:  Nantucket.

For some reason, I always had a desire to visit Cape Cod. Perhaps it was due to my obsession with the Kennedy's. Or my love of the clam bake and peddle pushers (note here:  I have never ever attended a clam bake wearing, or not wearing, peddle pushers).  It could also be linked to my preppy nature of wanting to wear Lilly Pulitzer dresses while scooting around on a cruiser bike and sipping lemonade.

Because in my head, that is what Cape Cod is.

I'm pretty much right on the money.

My desire to go to Nantucket comes from out of the blue.  I always knew it existed.  I always knew I wanted to go.  When I told a friend I was going, his reply was "if you were a place, Nantucket would be it".

How right he was.  I love love love Nantucket.  The moment the Engineer stepped on the island, he too love love loved Nantucket.

It's pretty magical.  And heaven for prepster virgos.  It's all clean, neat, orderly, and it MATCHES!  The whole island is a palette of greys, whites, blues, greens and the odd dot of pink.  I did wear a Lilly dress. I did ride a cruiser bicycle.  I did not  have lemonade, but I did vow to return again and again and again.

Therefore, I couldn't help but scope the place out for a wedding.

I won't lie, it's up there in the top three right now.

Our venue of choice is Wade Cottages.  A cluster of grey homes overlooking the sea in 'Sconset, the most easterly point of the island.

'Sconset has been described like this:

"Here in 'Sconset, between the cranberry bogs and the rose-grown bluffs, is one of the most beguiling villages in the world."


It's true. It is beguiling.  The Engineer and I had the loveliest time here.  


The Wade Cottages are great, because they can hold 40 of our nearest and dearest with other accommodation nearby.  We can stay for a week.  Frolicking in the warm sea, basking in the sun, skipping through the sand dunes.  Adirondack chairs overlook the ocean, a perfect perch for sipping wine and reading books.  Watching the sunset over the island while cooking lobster on the beach.

Our wedding would be a complete garden party, lasting well into the night.  Lanterns above our heads, dancing in our barefeet, watching the stars from the beach in the wee hours of the morning.


Oh crap.  I just talked myself back into this wedding.


Bad points:  it's hard to get to from the West Coast of Canada.  The ferry to drive over, return, is $400.  Ummm, that's about it.  Everything else is perfect.

That's Amore!

I have a love affair with Italy.

The food, the wine, the bread, the culture, the language.

And yet I have never been there.


I know right?

I've been many places, but many places in Europe is not one of them.  Namely Italy.

I feel we would get on quite well, Italy and me.  That's why the Engineer and I are going to Italy in the spring for our 'JellyMoon' (due to the fact we can't really take a honeymoon because the Engineer is becoming the Finance/Business/I don't-really-know-what-he-does Man at Goldman Sachs without much time off).  That's why we are going on it now.  And because it is not quite honey, we must settle for jelly.

But Italy is also a place I would consider getting married in.  I mean why not right?  It's Italy!  Have you seen Under the Tuscan Sun?  Or I guess I should be asking if you have read it.  Anyways, after walking out of that movie I turned to my friend Liz (one of my BM's) and said 'I am going to have to buy a house in Tuscany".

Obviously.

Seeing as Europe is somewhat pricey to have a wedding, I was sort of expecting the prices of my Italian dream to come back super high.

But they are not!  AAAAAAAAH!  When things are expensive it's so easy to say, 'no thank you'.

To rent a villa for a week isn't bad.  It works out to be about 200 Euros a person.  Wine is cheap in Italy. And food is plenty and affordable.  I mean the difference between France and Italy is foie gras vs. pasta.

Here comes the amazing part, one of the Villas I want is actually in Cortona.  Where Under the Tuscan Sun is set!  I could have an 'Under the Tuscan Sun' Wedding! EEEEEEEEEE!

Sipping chianti in Chianti - nice right?  I've been talking to Veronika, a super sweet woman and owner of Fonte de Medici, a gorgeous villa and I can't help but think maybe my Italian love affair should start with my actual love affair?

Bollywood Bridesmaid Part Four

So we've got the outfits (gorgeous by the way), we've got the treats stuffed, we've started the parties.  What's left?  Oh right.  Time to get married.

The night before the wedding, there was yet another gathering at the BB's house for her family.  I tell you, the poor mother who has to have her house clean and food ready at all times, it must be stressful.  All this ceremony and celebrating stems back to when the bride would be traditionally leaving the village never to see her family again.  Horribly sad. Luckily the BB was just moving ten minutes away.  But tradition is tradition.

So the night before the wedding rolls around.  And I am scrambling to find yet another Indian ensemble.  Luckily Indian dress is a tunic - so one size fits all.  A good thing because the BB is a size two.  Tonight there is more food, more dancing and a ceremony that involves using coloured shaved coconut placed in a specific design under a canopy of fabric.  Beneath this, the bride sits as those around her sing and members of her family feed her sweets.

The other white bridesmaid and myself asked why this was done.  'Tradition' became the stock response at this point. Seems to be that although steeped in ceremony, no one has a clue why they do anything.  Fair enough.  Why do we have confetti?  I actually know but that's for another entry.

So anyways, here we are.  Singing and eating sweets.  The sweets were really good. I kept eating mine before it was time to give them to BB.  Someone finally explained the sweets to me: you feed her sweets to that she enters the home of her husband sweet. I shoved a big old chunk in her mouth because she has a tendency to talk back.

Then it's her turn (or her mother's, I forget) to tie bracelets with tiny bells on everyone. This is the bond of the bride's side I think.  You aren't supposed to cut it off, it is supposed to eventually fall off.  That sucker stayed on longer than my henna.

There was dancing and the family gave her money.  Lots of money.  Like lots and lots of money.  I guess that's how you can afford to feed hundreds of people everyday.  Back in our Arabian tent with the hanging saris, her uncles sang as they put bracelets on her.  I don't know why this is done.  But it was fairly emotional, her mum was crying, her uncles were crying.  And it's her job to sit there and look somber.  Sort of weird if you knew her.  On top of all of this, there was family drama that I sort of got caught up in.  But that's a private story - so I will leave it up to you to imagine craziness going along with all this ceremony.

Remember what I said about pretending to be a culture you're not?  AKA henna lady?  I still stand by it but once again must reiterate that a culture does love it when you ask lots of questions and try to fit in.  The uncles loved me.  My attempt at Bollywood lessons, my enthusiasm for saris and galabjamuns, and my new trick:  imitating Indian speech by wiggling my head and saying the Punjab words I was fed.  I'm not above being a party trick.  Everyone loved this new (and slightly offensive I think?) talent. For the record, I didn't come up with it myself.  One of the bridesmaids taught it to me and then all the cousins joined in.  Whenever BB was stressed, I got to do it in order to make her laugh.  My one duty as bridesmaid:  keep the BB smiling and deal with all the craziness happening around her.  I definitely got myself in the middle of family drama and quelled situations wherever I could.

At this point, I am so stuffed with samosas (fried by one of the aunts in the cold Winnipeg garage), butter chicken (catered) and galabgamuns that I fear I will turn into fried Indian dough myself. Once again, thankful for the tunic.  It was all washed down with homemade chai tea that was DELICIOUS.  I went to bed that night with dreams of Bollywood stardom and little Indian elves dancing dances of happy chai times.  No, I was not drunk.  And what time did we get up?

Five AM.  That will be part five