And after that

Let's drink a toast -- it's the most I can stand to cry about. The mental energy you wasted on this wedding invitation. Let's thank the host -- you've been such a great host.

Pavement- We are underused

So the background and genesis of our story was kind of peculiar. I landed in London two years ago, only 2 months after meeting the woman who was to become my wife. Throughout that time we made the most out of what technology and science fiction could help us with, in order to get to know and learn about each other. The last and seemingly intimidating test was to organize a wedding in 4 months and 12,000 miles away from Chile. I mean, could we cope with that? If I only knew that this was only the beginning….

Nicole and our mothers managed everything on the spot over there whilst the groom, as if he was some sneaky hacker, only contributed from cyberspace via emails and webcam. I went over to Chile exclusively to get married and return after 2 weeks.

Friday the 26th at 10pm I reckoned the worst in terms of stress was already dealt with so I concentrated on creating good vibes, hoping everything would go the right way the next day at 4pm (i.e. nobody would dare to be cheeky enough to change my playlist or request raeggeton).

The earthquake shock was gratefully livened up by my English friend Richard who slept throughout the first 45 seconds, maybe thinking the scary noise was just a train from Dalston to Hackney Central passing by his window or turbulences over the Atlantic. At 3.36 I found myself sat on the couch, calm but at the same time slightly astonished, thumb and index finger pressing my forehead:

“Fuck, this couldn’t have happened”. I phoned Nicole straight away, notwithstanding the collapse of the networks and she told me she was ok. Anyone who spent a respectable amount of time over the last 6 years reviewing facts about the Indian Ocean tsunami knows that an 8.8 earthquake 10 hours before your wedding is technically not deemed as a positive sign.

At 7.30am the chaos was evident. The venue, an old 19th century mansion, was obviously damaged and the logistic companies were not delivering anything at all. What follows was a lesson in power struggle. I headed off to the venue with my dad to evaluate options with the administration and catering people, to decide whether to postpone, cancel or look for an alternative place, bearing in mind at that point there was no electricity or suitable spots. In addition to that, a structural engineer had to perform a security check to confirm the closure and we were unable to contact some of the suppliers.

Considering that as a caterer is fairly easy to be sympathetic with your client, having 90% of the money in your pocket, it was evident and understandable that there were going to be different incentives among the parties. We decided to go ahead at around 12pm, after the helpful administration offered us a suitable and safe location in the same venue. Thus postponing the start of the reception for 3 hours but still with important issues to sort out- like renting a generator in the more than likely scenario of having the electricity shut down later in the day.

We then confirmed all our independent suppliers of music, lighting, photography, filming and wines, all of them, thankfully, friends of ours. Out of nowhere Nicole showed up with a friend and we reassured each other that we had to carry on: “Bye baby, see you in the afternoon”.

Whilst I went to check if the park where the ceremony was going to be held was closed, Nicole proceeded to her hairdresser who agreed to open his shop for her. After that, there was a succession of communication problems stressed by the fact that mobiles were having coverage issues. The worst was the inability to confirm the attendance of the minister. At that point I was more than open to have a mystic or any other kind of ceremony.

2 cold showers later, along with frantic reviewing of the newspapers, dozens of friends asking for status and an aftershock while Nicole and her sister were dressing up, we both departed separately to get married; our main focus now being to make it as simple and quiet as possible, appreciating our now anticipated limited group of friends and family joining us in such difficult circumstances.

When I arrived at the ceremony and saw the unexpected and massive number of family and friends that were turning up, most of them whom I hadn’t seen for more than 2 years, overcoming their own struggle and fears to join us in such a monumental moment for us, I knew there was space for hope. Things at last started to go our way (at 4.34pm the lovely bureaucracy of my country turned up in the figure of the minister) and I started to feel extremely emotional about it all. Coloured dresses and sunshades, trees and sculptures. Finally, Nicole arrived by her mother’s hand to the sounds of Sigur Ros music to stand alongside me.

Why did we go ahead? First of all, certainly, to be conscious and respectful of the sad context but also to understand that life inexorably keeps rolling. It was also important to value the sacrifice from our friends who travelled so far to be with us. We wouldn’t have done anything if it wasn’t for the decisive effort from our families and the understanding, support and sacrifice from everyone else involved. In the end we believe this experience was an infinitely humble example of fight against adversity, something that will definitely mark our life together.