Ireland '99: Day Eight
Day Eight -- September 3rd, 1999
Today was the big wedding day, and
what a day it was! Knowing that the women would take the morning prettifying
themselves, Bryn and I headed up for a quick walk on the top of Howth Head. We
were joined only by a young gal in full uniform atop a beautiful gelding. From
our perch on top of the Head, we could see across Dublin Bay and even could make
out Dole/Peters Island (aka Dalkey Island) from the day before. The heather was
in beautiful bloom (as were the nasty stinging nettles), making for a great
chance to take lots of pictures. Mark and Tanya could not have asked for a more
beautiful day for their wedding.
Bryn and I rushed back, put on our tuxes (complete with accurately tied bowties) and the four of us took some pictures in the B&B’s front garden. We scrambled into our little Opel (making quite a sight) and then headed off for Trinity college.
We made it to Trinity, starved, and luckily Tanya was a bit late in arriving, giving us a moment to scarf down some sandwiches. All of the American tourists had also assembled in front of the chapel to take snapshots of this traditional Irish wedding. The irony was quite funny.
Now, I should say at this point that
Mark and Tanya’s wedding was far and away, above and beyond, the most regal,
fairy tale wedding I (and most, if not all, of the people I talked to) have ever
experienced. The wedding seriously went off the charts in its level of regality,
extravagance and choreography. Everything was planned to be the very noblest one
could possibly imagine it to be. It terms of flair, nothing matches it. For the
variety of American hicks like myself, we all seemed a bit out of sort with the
grandiose of it all. Many thanks and congratulations goes to Tanya and Mark for
pulling off such a majestic and magnificent event. It will be a day to remember
not just for Mark and Tanya, but for all of our lives.
The wedding ceremony in the chapel went off without a hitch, Tanya made her grand appearance beautifully so. The chapel was quite impressive as well.
Afterwards, Bryn, Susan, Jenn
and I headed down to Powerscourt for the reception. Along the way, we listed to
the all gaelic radio station “R Na G” where we heard something like:
“Frkush sleck ya mleckhoney, je keek myeh SUMO WRESTLING na svora slah toney.”
We later heard “fireworks”, leading us to the conclusion that some country
fair was imminent.
We were greeted at Powerscourt by
servants holding trays of champagne as we exited the car. Powerscourt is one of
the premiere estates in the country and has a most amazing set of gardens. We
all rambled through the gardens sipping our champagnes waiting for the bride and
groom to make another grand entrance in Mark’s father’s vintage 1929 Rolls
Royce. (Didn’t I tell you that this wedding topped all charts on the
After oodles of pictures, we retired
to the estate house where the reception dinner awaited us. While waiting for
dinner to appear, I talked with Bryn, Dan Sha-corky, and Pajor about who one can
learn more from – one with whom you resonate with (their vector has both
similar magnitude and direction) or one who’s direction is either orthogonal
or inverse of you. Dan made a convincing argument for orthogonal/inverse to
which I conceded. I still maintained that the explosion of resonance though can
be more incredible, and furthermore, that I strive not as much to learn about
myself as for the explosion of resonance. (I had to put something down about the
variety of provoking discussions I had that day with the Purdue folks).
Dinner, as to be expected, was excellent, and the open bar made it even more so! Luckily there were enough Irish people at our table to guide us through the array of silverware and glassware (after a few mishaps in guessing which glass was for water). They then cleared the tables and set up for the dancing, which went late (by Irish standards) into the night. There was a traditional Irish band and a caller who helped us through a variety of traditional Irish dances (they were MUCH fun!). There also was a DJ who took over every now and then to play various pop songs from the past 20 years (ABBA, yahoo!). Bryn did the elvis split, while I tried the John Travolta to Dance Fever. It was quite funny to see the expressions on the Irish caller and his wife whenever the music switch from organized traditional gaelic dancing to the chaotic flailing of pop dancing.
The drive back late at night was
long and arduous, as our bodies ached from the partying and dancing.
Proceed to the next day, or return to the Ireland '99 Main Page.
(c) Geoffrey Peters, intangibility.com, 2002. For more information
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