It was sixteen years ago today that I stood barefoot on a beach in Fiji and tied the knot, got hitched, fused, welded together, or whatever your romantic metaphor for getting married.

It was a spontaneous thing, growing out of a beach conversation that went something like this:

I wouldn’t mind getting married.

Me neither.

They’d sure be surprised at home.

OK, let’s do it tomorrow before we change our minds.

My dress was bunched up in a backpack, a red-and-white Bali batik purchased a couple of weeks before in Australia for $15 AUS. I hung it up for the day and most of the wrinkles fell out.

The deed was done by a Methodist minister wearing a sulu with a congregation that consisted of the sulu-wearing bar staff/band from the hotel. They were bored out of their heads.

Not sure what 16 signifies, but apparently the recommended gift is silver holloware, whatever that is.

My present?

Well, after having secretly switched the text on my Blackberry to Magyar, the language spoken by Hungarians, and then watching me panic as I tried to navigate my way through menus with funny words with squiggles, he graciously offered to switch it back to English.

You know, as an anniversary present.

Sweet, huh?

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This entry was posted on Monday, March 31st, 2008 at 6:54 pm and is filed under travels. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.