I’ll add some pics to this post in the next couple of days when I’m at a computer with a USB port.
This post comes to you courtesy of mty tablet. I’m writing this as we’re arriving into Mexico City on the overnight bus from Guadalajara. It’s quarter past seven, the sun is up now, but there’s a thick cloud over Mexico City this morning.
It’s the Mexico I recognise from the movies. The streets look dusty, the fences and buildings a little delapidated. Somehow this feels like the real Mexico, but perhaps it’s really the Hollywood Mexico.
We’re in town so Pepe can collect a letter from a government office here in the capital. He’s headed for Spain in the next few weeks and this letter is the final piece in a long paperwork puzzle. I came along for the ride.
This post is about a wedding though, not about Mexico City. More on the capital of this country later.
I was fortunate to be invited to attend the wedding of Yamil and Karina on Saturday.
I gave up on formal clothing quite a few countries back, so I noq travel with only one shirt, semi-dress trousers (recently acquired on my cannabis shopping spree) and blackspot sneakers. No formal shoes, no business trousers, and definitely no tie. I decided that if I don’t meet the dress code for venues, those are the places I don’t need to be.
Given my very limited wardrobe, dressing for the wedding was something of a challenge. I donned my outfit and Pepe kindly loaned me a woollen overcoat to up my formality a little. The church service began at 8pm in a church nearby.
The church itself was a fairly modern affair. White washed walls, a modern PA system. Not the usual excesses of some older Catholic churches. The couple were already seated and the service was underway when we arrived. Pepe said it’s quite normal for people to arrive late into the service, though we were only a few minutes after 8.
By 9pm I understood why some people were happy to arrive well into the proceedings! There was plenty of singing, a bit of praying, some apparently harsh words from the priest, and lots of other church malarky. I was impressed by the communion, it was a highly efficient affair with no less than four church folk dishing out the holy biscuits. They’ve got this Catholosism at scale down to a fine art it would seem!
From the service we stopped by a birthday party en-route to the reception. There was a barbecue going at the party and the various meats smelt fantastic. After a few tecquillas and a nibble on the barbecue we left for the reception.
I’d guess we arrived at the hall around 11pm. Goodness knows what they’d been doing for 2 hours, but the bread hadn’t even made it to the tables when we arrived! I think the meal was finally served around midnight, by which time I was most disappointed that I hadn’t taken better advantage of the barbecue earlier. The Latin schedule is definitely different.
After eating came the throwing of the wedding bouquet. Firstly all the unmarried women joined hands and charged around the room in a flurry of Latin diva’ness. Then they assembled behind the bride to catch the flowers. Then came then mens turn. The running was cut short when the groom’s brother knocked the bride, 5 months pregnant, off the chair she was standing on. There was some fussing, but she appeared to be fine. Then the groom threw his wife’s garter belt over his shoulder and one lucky man caught it. Not me I’m pleased to report!
Then came the music accompanied by some sexy Latin dancing. Alas there was some shortage of single women and I’m told one doesn’t usually dance with strangers at a Latin weddimg. So there was no salsa practive to be had for me. I made do with a quick boogie to “If you’re going to San Francisco…”. 
The dj finally called it a night around 3am after conceding one more song to the ferocious cries of “autra, autra”. Then it was onwards to a nightclub I was told. So we pile into the carpark, most people blind drunk, hop into a few cars, and off we go. My repeated offers to drive, as the only sober person present, were gently declined with reassurance along the lines of “don’t worry, we do this all the time”!
We made it one peice to the club, after a good 30 minutes of drunken chin wagging in the car park. La Folie was pretty dead by nearly 4am. I’m told the party starts winding down around 2am. Eventually the music stopped about 5, another good 30 minutes of drunken nonsense followed, and we finally left the club about 5:30am. Then ensued some debate about where we were going next. I was firmly rooting for bed, which eventually won out and I hit the hay by about 6am.
All in all a great night.
I told the groom, via Pepe’s translation that he had gotten off lightly, there are no speeches at Mexican weddings!
It was a wonderful opportunity to see Latin and Mexican culture from the inside. My sincere thanks and gratitude to Pepe for the invitation.
More on our Mexico City adventures to follow in the next couple of days. We’ve arrived in the bus station now, so it’s off into the jungle of 20 million people. Hopefully I’ll find some wifi to post this later on.
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