Lucie et Flo : Le mariage
Woh...I haven't posted since Wednesday. It must have been a "RAS" few days (RAS: Rien A Signaler). To be honest, all had been put on hold for the wedding of two of my friends Lucie and Flo on Saturday.
My mum kept asking me what I was going to wear, to which I replied:" No worries, it will be fine". My lack of dress-stress could be explained by the fact that the wedding party was going to take place in The Club Boulliste of Monaco. For all of you that ever went to France during the summer holidays, you must remember the game of Boules (or as the professional call it petanque). We have clubs here where old men gather to smoke, watch TV and play some boules. And that is exactly where my friends had decided to have their wedding dinner. It comes complete with le terrain de boules, plastic sets of table and chairs and Miko (ice cream) parasols!
They had wanted an unorthodox wedding (in type not religion) . The bride opted for a (stunning) copper coloured bustier and long skirt combined with a brown toga-like body veil and roman soldier type of sandals (think Asterix). I know it sounds odd, but she truly looked amazing (in a non-white virginal sense!) . The groom, who used to favour a long (to the bum) hair style (thank god she talked sense into him) and plays guitar in a rock band, had opted for a 1960s french rocker style of clothing (from the Ye-Ye era of french rock). Think dark suite, very thin black tie and a white shirt (a bit like the Blues Brothers). So needless to say, my outfit was the least of my worries!
I had been more concerned about the prospect of socialising with the french. I am not an unsociable person, but I can tell you: It was hard. In the end I took it like a social experiment, where I made a feeble attempt to to decipher their primitive ways. Maybe it was the lack of alcohol, or the large number of post 55 (years old) people which when combined with the less than festive surroundings made the whole day/evening quite a challenging experience. There were a lot of silences (they became less awkward as the evening went on), monosyllabic responses (I tried all the questions in the book to no avail!) and literally very little social-like behaviour.
I never thought I would say this, but at one point I had actually wished for a few english lads to crash the party and start downing flamming sambucas (no it didn't happen!). I resorted to doing what everyone else was doing - sticking to the people I knew.
In the end the chosen strategy was the most rewarding. I had a good time with my friends, didn't have to make an effort to make conversation and had a laugh in the process.
More pics on Flickr.
My mum kept asking me what I was going to wear, to which I replied:" No worries, it will be fine". My lack of dress-stress could be explained by the fact that the wedding party was going to take place in The Club Boulliste of Monaco. For all of you that ever went to France during the summer holidays, you must remember the game of Boules (or as the professional call it petanque). We have clubs here where old men gather to smoke, watch TV and play some boules. And that is exactly where my friends had decided to have their wedding dinner. It comes complete with le terrain de boules, plastic sets of table and chairs and Miko (ice cream) parasols!
They had wanted an unorthodox wedding (in type not religion) . The bride opted for a (stunning) copper coloured bustier and long skirt combined with a brown toga-like body veil and roman soldier type of sandals (think Asterix). I know it sounds odd, but she truly looked amazing (in a non-white virginal sense!) . The groom, who used to favour a long (to the bum) hair style (thank god she talked sense into him) and plays guitar in a rock band, had opted for a 1960s french rocker style of clothing (from the Ye-Ye era of french rock). Think dark suite, very thin black tie and a white shirt (a bit like the Blues Brothers). So needless to say, my outfit was the least of my worries!
I had been more concerned about the prospect of socialising with the french. I am not an unsociable person, but I can tell you: It was hard. In the end I took it like a social experiment, where I made a feeble attempt to to decipher their primitive ways. Maybe it was the lack of alcohol, or the large number of post 55 (years old) people which when combined with the less than festive surroundings made the whole day/evening quite a challenging experience. There were a lot of silences (they became less awkward as the evening went on), monosyllabic responses (I tried all the questions in the book to no avail!) and literally very little social-like behaviour.
I never thought I would say this, but at one point I had actually wished for a few english lads to crash the party and start downing flamming sambucas (no it didn't happen!). I resorted to doing what everyone else was doing - sticking to the people I knew.
In the end the chosen strategy was the most rewarding. I had a good time with my friends, didn't have to make an effort to make conversation and had a laugh in the process.
More pics on Flickr.
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