The Big Trip, Part 2

Now that we were at our hotel, and I could actually put my ridiculously heavy bags (note to self: learn how to pack) down and flop on the bed, I was beginning to feel much better. I took a shower, and I began to feel almost human again. I want to sleep more than anything, but I know I need some food. Brian and I go out to wander around for a while before dinner. It’s raining really lightly and my glasses keep fogging up, so I can barely see anything. I really should get contacts, but I haven’t bothered yet, since I don’t wear them that much. We walk down to the beach, but it’s really foggy,. so you can’t see much. The rehearsal dinner is being held at a restaurant called the View, but apparently, there wasn’t much of one. After giving up on siteseeing for the day, we head back to the inn and settle in for dinner. They were’t serving yet, so we had drink. I am wondering at this point if I can handle a glass of wine on my empty stomach and no sleep, but it actually made me feel much better. Maybe my theory of wine settling your stomach is actually true.

Dinner was really amazing and a lot of fun. I think I had lamb chops, but in my sleep-deprived state, the evening is a bit of a blur. A guy walks up to our table and asks if he can join us for dinner. We say yes, and I am thinking, wow, the locals are really friendly. After a few minutes, I realize that he is a fellow wedding guest who recognized us from the trip here. What can I say, my brain was just not functioning at full capacity. His name is Richard and he is from New Zealand. I restrain myself from asking any questions about hobbits and elves.

To my surprise, I actually stay awake until around 11, when I toddle off to bed. I sleep like a log. When I wake up in the morning, I find that sometime during the night, I removed my earplugs (yes, I know it’s weird, but you try living with a heavy sleeping snorer). I have no memory of this. In the morning, we have breakfast at the inn. I have the full English breakfast, which is amazing—eggs, fried bread, sausage, bacon, beans, tomatoes, and mushrooms. I also add several slices of toast loaded with butter. Hell, I’m on vacation.

After breakfast, Brian and I pull ourselves together and do some exploring. We are staying in Cawsand, which is right next to another tiny but beautiful town, Kingsand. There really isn’t a demarcation between the two. While we are out wandering, we run into various other wedding guests. This is a pretty remote area. Everyone is staying with a mile radius. The two towns are really beautiful. We are right on the coast, and everything is very hilly. Here’s a picture of Kingsand. I actually walked on the steps that are in the middle of the photo, although it was high tide and there were a lot fewer of them. This picture is our inn, which is no longer called the Smugglers’ Inn. It gives a good view of how narrow the streets are. This one and this one give you an idea of what the coastline looks like.

We headed back to the inn around 1 to get ready. The damp climate had pretty much killed any hope of styling my hair, so I dunked my head in the sink and decided to go natural. The same van as the day before (with the lovable Smitty at the wheel) picked us up around 1:45 and took us to the wedding, which was held at Polhawn Fort. This is a 19th century naval fort (Cornwall was a strategic naval area back in the day. I guess it still is, but they aren’t as worried about warding off an attack from France these days). The wedding ceremony was held in the main hall. To get there, you have to climb down a circular staircase. Part of the banister is rope. It’s a little scary and I figure it will only become more so after a few drinks. The ceremony was longer than I expected for a civil ceremony. It seemed very British—very legal, crossing every “t” and dotting every “i.” Maria looks beautiful and Mike looks very dashing. The bridesmaids dresses are really cute—something you could actually wear again. After the ceremony, we climbed back up to the top of the fort for cocktails. They had a tent set up, but the weather was beautiful, so most people were outside. I wanted to do some exploring, so we figured out the way down to the garden, which gives you the most amazing view of the coastline. There are only a few of us down there at first, but eventually everyone wanders down and they start bringing around hors d’oeuvres. They have these tiny fish and chips wrapped in little scraps of newspaper. They are adorable (they no longer seem so adorable when I find the greasy remains of the newspaper in my pocket a few days later). Eventually, we go back inside for dinner, and then they clear the tables away and the dancing gets started. I was in heaven because the bride and groom have similar taste to mine—it was all 80s and britpop. I danced for hours.

At some point during this part of the evening, Brian and I start talking about marriage. Somehow we end up deciding to get married. I wish I could remember the exact wording, since the story doesn’t really sound all that romantic, but it really was. But basically, we were talking about weddings and marriage, and he asked me to marry him and I said yes, and that was that. We didn’t tell anyone right away, since it seemed like that would be stealing the wedding couple’s thunder (and I really doubt we could have gotten anyone’s attention at that point of the night!).

Eventually, we made it back to the inn. The pub was officially closed, but still sort of open to us since we were staying there. The landlord gave us all drinks, and we ended up telling the staff that we had gotten engaged. They were very excited. The evening got sort of weird at that point, as one of the waitresses went off on a long harangue about how awful Americans are. Her main complaints were that we all voted for Bush and we all eat McDonalds. I can understand how obnoxious Americans can seem to the rest of the world. We are obnoxious a lot of the time, especially when travelling. But I try to be a good tourist and accept that I am not at home and things are different. I am definitely not one of those tourists. We all objected to her stereotypes. I didn’t vote for Bush (and neither did 49% of us) and I don’t eat McDonalds (except in rare cases of severe hangovers, but we’ll keep that just between us, ok?). After she had a few more drinks, she decided we had all changed her opinion of Americans and kept trying to kiss us all. Then a friend of the landlord shows up and gives me this whole speech about he loves Blair and Bush (I haven’t told him anything about my politics), and that the war is Iraq was essential because it’s our job to bring down tyranny. Really? Because if that is the case, sir, I have a long list of tyrannical dictatorships we should be worrying about. Of course, we won’t do anything about them because those countries don’t hold any strategic interest for the West. But I kept my mouth shut, because I really want to go to sleep and I just got engaged, and everything is right with the world, so just shut up, mister right wing idiot.