My Big Fat Italian Wedding

I'm the only person I know who married the same person twice. Well, in reality I officially married Anna once, but we celebrated it twice. Our first wedding took place in August 2012 at the Islington Town Hall in London. It was a small affair; because none of our family were there we invited a few friends and coworkers as witnesses to us signing the certificate. We hadn't told our families, so we kept it hush-hush until we went back to see them in our respective home countries. In some ways that first wedding was more special, more memorable, perhaps because it was so intimate and small. And also the guy who married us was named Stephen Lord.

To Islington!

My beautiful bride.

"Sign on the line, Sir." 

Our lovely guests.

An English Wedding. 

An homage to where we met.

But of course we always knew we had to have a proper wedding, one where both of our families and friends could see us and celebrate. In early 2013, we settled on a date of October 5th. While in Italy in January, we began planning.
It may be easy to get married in a church in the US, but it's not so easy in Italy. The only church in Italy is the Catholic church, and that is a problem for those who are not Catholic, such as myself. Thus, we couldn't get married in a church. Even if I were Catholic, Anna said, it would still not be possible, because the town priest wouldn't marry us without before taking "classes" with him about marital life (ironic that someone who is forbidden to marry should be giving marital coaching), and there was no way she was going to do that because of her vigorous disdain for the said priest. So we had to find an alternative.
Luckily, one ancient church in the heart of town, the Chiesa del Santo Spiritu, was deconsecrated, and by some miracle of fortune the mayor allowed us to use the church for our wedding (after hinting that the ceremony was a theatrical farce). Since we were already married, we convinced one of Anna's best friends, Luca, to "marry" us. Thankfully, he agreed.
We also had to find a venue for the reception, and after puttering around the mountainside villages surrounding Bormio for a day, we settled on a lovely hotel in Ciuk, a village nestled not far above the town.

Ten months later, after much planning (mostly on Anna's part) we piled the family on a plane and touched down in Milan. From there, we crammed into a minivan and made our way up to Bormio for the wedding.
I'll let the pictures do the talking, and I hate bragging, but it was the best wedding I have ever been to. The food was to die for, the view was breathtaking, everyone had a great time, and nothing made me happier than having all of my family there. But most importantly I have never seen Anna look more beautiful.

Enjoy the photos.

Second most beautiful woman at wedding.

Like father, like son.

Rice down my pants. 

Damn rice.

Bormio. We had to. 

La famiglia americana.  

My new family.

Bormio.

Another tradition. American weddings could never be this saucy.

First (and only) dance. 

La Contea

What? It's that time of year again? That means Italy---Bormio, to be precise.

The Shire. 

Most of the time we are in Bormio gets spent catching up with family and friends. Bormio is home to the Men's Downhill Skiing World Cup, which we watched this year, but despite all 2000 meters of skiing glory we still didn't make it to the slopes this year (next time, as we have said for three years now). It snowed quite a bit and it was pretty cold, so we spent a lot of time inside.

Dat stack!!

Sumptuous dinner at the enoteca.

Always miss that stove....

Perfect harmony between beasts: ass, cow, and ostrich. 

Despite not making it to the slopes, we still made it into the snowy outdoors to go snowshoeing, or ciaspole in Italian. The first day we simply hiked out of Bormio and up towards Oga for a panoramic view of the town.

The view towards Valdidentro was particularly charming: 

The next day we drove up to Santa Caterina in Valfurva. Due to the mountains around it, Santa Caterina always gets more snow than Bormio, fewer daylight hours, and, of course, colder temperatures. This makes it ideal for snowshoeing, even if for only a few hours during the day.

Up or down?

Yeah. 

As always, the time in Bormio is too short, but hopefully this coming summer without school we'll be spending a good deal of time there. On Friday, we tearfully packed our bags with food and drink and began the long journey back to our windswept isle. 

One for the road; I always chuckle to myself when I have to answer on the customs form, "Have you been on a farm or handled livestock?" Heh.