Friday, September 12, 2008

Our wedding revisited

Today we took Julia to see where we got married, and then later, where we had our reception. Our wedding venue, the gardens of the Chevre d'Or in Eze, are not looking as beautiful as I remember them. The lawn is a bit overgrown and the flower beds need some tending to. My view may also have been tainted by the fact that we were accosted by the hotel porters on two occasions demanding to know if we were guests.

Having little to no French on our part didn't help, matched by their incomprehension of English. So explaining that we had got married there two and a bit years ago and we were bringing our baby to see it, and that we had permission from the people in reception to do so was futile.

Thug, I mean, porter: You guest of ze otel?
Us (attempting to answer): Well not exactly but ...
Porter (interjecting): No!
Porter: You are not supposed to beez ere!

We mentioned the name of the events organiser and got some glimmer of recognition in what was otherwise a blank merciless glare, and were eventually left to our little walk down memory lane.

I was also a bit put out by the fact that they so quickly made up their minds that we clearly weren't guests. It's true that as the hotel is a part of the village, they get a lot of confused tourists who accidentally wonder into the gardens which are for guests only. Also, as it's a small hotel, there may be a chance that they knew who was staying there, and we clearly weren't it. But what if we were new guests that had just arrived?

Perhaps, and this was something I was not willing to face, we looked as though we weren't dressed smartly enough to be staying there. Roberto agreed that we did look a bit scruffy. "Speak for yourself," I said, "a bit of baby food on my shirt does not count."

Later we went to the Villa Kerylos and asked someone to take a picture of the three of us to sort of recreate one of our wedding photos. It was a complete failure, and only the location is the same. Roberto is squinting against the sun, Julia is looking confused and gripping my lip, and I'm trying to art direct the shot and maniacally grin at the same time, while enduring the pain of my lip being pulled off of my face. It wasn't a success, but perhaps in its way, a telling portrait of how children change your life. In a good way of course.

And in the news:

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