|
|
|
Travel Blog: My turbulent mountain wedding in ZermattPublished on 07:25pm 04/17/2009 by juliadrake28 |
This tale is proof that with love, you can move mountains...
|
1. Chapter: My wedding |
||||||||
|
I wanted to get married on a mountain meadow in front of the Matterhorn since I saw a local Swiss couple tie their knot there––in full folklore get-up, with alphorn blowers and cows with bells. They were actually getting married in a small chapel on the mountain, but even as the 8-year-old girl that I was then, I knew I was a free spirit and that organized religion wasn’t my thing. Staying in one place wasn’t my thing either. That’s why I had to fly all the way from Germany to Los Angeles to find the man of my love. But it was worth it. On our first trip to Zermatt, Jared, my now husband, loved the idea of getting married there just as much as I did. We decided to take on the wedding preparations ourselves––as we only planned to invite our immediate family: Jared’s parents, his three older siblings and their kids, and my parents and two siblings plus partners. And then there was my 80 year-old nanny, who I was most worried about. Little did I know that she was going to be the least of my worries. After we had planned the actual wedding through my parents (who live in Germany and who’ve spent many summers and winters in Zermatt at the lovely Hotel Derby), Jared and I arrived in Zermatt early Monday morning to greet his family arriving on train in the afternoon. Jared and I couldn’t wait to let them in on our planned week of celebratory activities, merriment and relaxation, culminating in our wedding on Friday. The day started––very uncharacteristically for Zermatt––with freezing rain. A grey curtain completely enveloped the mountains, including the Matterhorn. When we arrived at the train station, I saw to my surprise that my in-laws were all sporting flip-flops, halter-tops and shorts. Didn’t I mention we were going to be in the Swiss mountains? Of course, none of them had ever been to Europe or the Swiss mountains, but I had assumed they would just know by the universal power of common sense. During the events that unfolded in the next days, I realized that having grown up in Europe and having spent my holidays in Zermatt since I was three years old, there was a lot I had taken for granted: The food, the language, the culture, and more specifically, the limited resources of a mountain town when it came to the needs of a nine month year-old baby. What I couldn’t have foreseen was that my sister-in-law, Dena, and her husband, Mark, (who had come with their two year-old and nine month year-old girls from London Heathrow) had contracted a stomach virus there. The night of their arrival, Dena started throwing up and had to be taken to the emergency room. That same night, her little baby Audrey starting throwing up and early Tuesday morning had to be rushed to a hospital in Visp––a bigger town an hour away from Zermatt. Jared and I didn’t have time to even process what was going on before Mark, Dena’s husband, fell victim to the bug as well, followed by their two year-old daughter Olivia. Tuesday night, Jared’s other siblings and kids came down with the disease as well. For some reason, my family all stayed healthy, which didn’t help the growing rift that formed between our two families. As much as everyone tried to keep up our spirits, I couldn’t help eradicating the image of our picture perfect mountain wedding drowning in a pool of rain, puke and depression. But Jared and I decided that all we could do was to stick together, come rain or shine. Well, Wednesday morning, two days before our wedding, the weather forecast announced a major storm on Friday. Jared’s other siblings were feeling better and chances that Dena would make it with her kids (she was scheduled to return from the hospital Wednesday afternoon with Audrey) were slim. So we called the priest, the mountain restaurant, the alphorn blower and the photographer to schedule our wedding for Thursday, which was supposed to be sunny and dry. On Thursday morning (I spent the night in my parents’ room, knowing the next time I would see Jared would be on that mountain meadow), I woke up to a brooding sky, flecked with blue spots. It looked promising, I decided. After my appointment with the hairdresser, my bridal party, consisting of my mom, my sister, my brother’s girlfriend and my nanny, hiked up to the mountain cottage where my the wedding was set to take place. In a little shack I put on my beautiful dress and tried to not think of the definite black rain clouds that now hovered in the sky. Instead I chose to hang onto the words of my hairdresser: "As long as you have sunshine in your heart..." According to plan, Jared was supposed to take the gondola up the mountain with his folks (or the ones who had recovered), and walk down to the cottage. But at 2:30 pm, half an hour before the ceremony was supposed to start, Jared and his folks were missing. So was the priest. I stood there, in my gown, feeling the first rain drops splash on my head. I had to wrestle all my will power to not cry and also to not pee––what with the corset and layers of clothing in my way. Finally, my dad came to tell me that everyone had arrived, including the priest. It was time. He took my arm and walked me out to the meadow as the wedding march was playing. As I made my way through the narrow alley between the wooden benches the wedding party was seated in, I couldn’t believe it. Everyone had made it! Even Dena and her flock. In my joy, I almost forgot about the groom. Jared. Our eyes met. He looked terribly handsome in his beige suit and his face quivered with a mix of shyness and love. We took each other’s hands. I tried to listen to the priest’s words, but my mind hovered somewhere in the space between Jared and I. I gripped his hands tighter to ground myself. Suddenly everyone stood up. Our vows! What? Already? I wrestled my being into presence, and mustered just enough concentration to repeat after the priest. Then finally, “You may kiss the bride,” he said. We fell into each other’s arms and kissed. The alphorn resounded through the mountain air, which was moist with faint streaks of rain. The sky gleamed in twilight colors of golden sun, black clouds and blue mist. The minute we entered the cottage for dinner, thunder and lightening broke loose. I couldn’t believe how lucky we got. That said, the most important thing I took away from the day of my wedding––apart from the fact that it will forever be the best day of my life-––is that if you truly love someone, you’ll get through it all, in sickness and in health, in poverty and in wealth and all the rest of what life throws at your feet. Tags for this Travel Blog Chapter: best-moment-of-my-life |
||||||||
|
||||||||
