Did you hear the story about the Canadian who married a Brit in Argentina? Yeah, me neither, but I’m sure this story is better anyway.
On January 5, 2013, two of our friends, Paul and Emma, got married on the grounds of a polo club outside of the city. Theirs was one of the most enjoyable and beautiful weddings we’ve ever attended — a perfect mix of Argentine, American and British traditions.
In the morning, we met up with about 20 other vehicle-less guests near the city Zoo. All decked out in our own versions of “what should I wear to an outdoor wedding on a humid summer day” we waited for the chartered bus coming to transport us about an hour and half outside of the city.
We knew the day was going to be memorable as soon the pimped out school bus rolled up with the driver and his wife ready to go. As soon as we hit the road, the driver managed to yell at a few other cars. One, in particular, got him so enraged for cutting in front of him that he proceeded to pass him and return the favor. Well played, Mr. Driver Man. Don’t take crap from other cars when you have a bus full of people!
We made it safely and were immediately in love with the decor and vibe of the place. It felt like we were visiting a real-life Pinterest dream-wedding pin board. But this was real and by no means an attempt to be overly fashionable. They’re just that cool.
The service was beautiful (and bilingual). The babies cried and crawled and no one cared. The breeze came and cooled us off. The couple shared their matching, self-written vows.
Side note: Normally, when couples write their own wedding vows they are long on words of tenderness (i.e., here’s why I love you, schnuckums) and short on promises. Not Paul and Emma. They spoke tenderly and actually vowed a few things too. Yeah, I like that.
Really, this section should be called, “Food, food, relax, polo, food, food, dance, and a pimped out bus ride home with a really drunk guy nearly get a beat down from the bus driver.” That’s how it all went down. But let’s focus on the food.
We’ve come to really appreciate and enjoy the Argentine asado. There’s a rhythm and method to it that puts you in the right mood for spending hours with friends and family free of worry. How perfect for a wedding reception!
Immediately after the ceremony, we feverishly hunted down the fast-disappearing appetizers of deli meats and cheese (called “picada”) and sausage sandwiches (“choripan”). Soon after we headed over to the “dining hall” for more meat.
After cramming endless amounts of asado into us, we all stretched our legs and headed over to the polo field where four of the waiters transformed magically into really good polo players, with team uniforms and all. Emma took advantage of this time to pull out her charming little sun umbrella. I missed that photo op.
I didn’t miss taking a photo of the mate (herbal tea) that waited for us after the game. Impressive, huh? :)
The early evening, say from 5-7pm, is the time for “merienda” — that’s snack and tea/coffee time. So, with the mate, we ate some more. Perfectly satisfied, we settled into our bales of hay listening, toasting, and laughing as the families, best man, and maid of honor poured love all over the couple.
The rest of the night was filled with the traditional post-dinner wedding rituals we’re used to in the United States: first dance, bouquet toss, cake cutting, slow dancing, group dancing, etc. There wasn’t a single moment when we were bored. Considering the total event from the first bus ride to the last was over 12 hours, I’d say that’s an amazing day. They deserved it; they’re an amazing couple and we’re happy to call them our friends.
To Paul and Emma!
Oh, about that drunk guy on the pimped-out-bus ride back to the city. Well, let’s just say he also made it home safely, barely. Don’t ever pull on a pimped-out-bus driver’s window curtains. Ever.