The Destination Wedding

After 4 decades the time has finally arrived to plan for my wedding. You 20 somethings will be cringing with distaste thinking "it took her that long?" You 30 somethings will be groaning - wondering "shit, will it take me that long?" Well phooey to all of you. Yes it did take me this long to find my partner and companion. And yes, it was worth the wait. Given the lateness of my forthcoming nuptials neither my brothed nor I wanted any ordinary wedding. Something unique, fun and beautiful, preferrably on the beach. Given the extent of my family relations - somewhere between one to two thousand, we decided on a destination wedding. That way only close friends and family who really WANTED to be there would come.

So then the fun of deciding on a destination. We tried the Bahamas but the thought of conducting a wedding on Island time (read: slower than molasses) proved a deterrent. Recalling a lovely trip to Puerto Rico 10 years previously, we decided to give it a whirl. Boy was I nervous. I checked and double checked. I made a multitude of phone calls to verify, to confirm, to ease my stressed mind. All this for a pre-trial you ask? Not at all. All this stress because we were flying with our dog for the first time. I know all you parents are rolling your eyes. Yeah, whatEVER. You can always calm your children with a few soothing words or a quick slap (just kidding). What's to calm my high strung Jack Russell as he's caged in his TSA approved carry-on. What's to keep his ultra smart mind amused as we coast 30,000 miles above the earth watching the Queen? Luckily, my fiance stepped up the plate and soothed Duke when he scrabbled inside his doggy prison. (See, I told you he was worth waiting for.) He even slipped his hand inside the carrier to pet the shivering little guy when the engines roared into life.

Finally the plane reached its destination and picking up our rental car, we were off to the west coast of Puerto Rico. Aguadilla - known to us gringos as prosaic 'water garden' was the location of our resort. While the town itself is rather uninspiring -think the Bronx with wider streets and less gunfire - the resort turned out to be a gem. Literally nestled on the northwestern most tip of Puerto Rico Villa Montana is stunning. A security gate manned by a senor wearing a military type uniform and beret, not to mention that he looked like Fidel Castro's much younger brother, checked us on his important looking clipboard. We noted with approval that he kept the unsavory types out. However he was not able to deter a trio of Iguanas from regally entering the property. A profusion of Bouganvilla, crimson, fushia, saffron grew everywhere. Palm trees, coconut trees, mango trees! grew lushly on the grounds. Hedges of hibiscus, multi colored coleus, creeping jasmines and other scented shrubs I could not identify prospered. While our room was cute in the forbidding somber style of a Spanish monastery, the king sized bed was opulently linened and promised Duke ample space to roll on his back.

The people were friendly, the adult pool looked like a Miami club, but our sights were set on the ocean. The first view of the Atlantic ocean as it hit this coast was of thundering waves 200 yards deep into the ocean. Holy smokes! We tested the temperature with toes, while Duke plunged unhesitatingly into the foamy edges. Sublime. Like bath water, if you like your baths stingingly salty. We romp in waves barely up to our waists cause they're so dang strong. Duke digs a hole the size of a satellite dish and buries his tennis ball. The two resort dogs - Blackie and Scruffy come over to say hello. They sniff and speak amongst themselves as Thomas and I sip Margaritas. I'm not sure if they're extra salty from Puerto Rican salt or from my ocean kissed lips.

We dine at an outdoor restaurant overlooking the ocean. Swanky, sultry music plays from outdoor speakers, a changing wind cools our hot faces but can't deter the mosquitos from feasting on my legs. We eat the best tuna sashimi we've ever tasted. I exchange masala recipes with the chef, who is working one-handed due to an accident. Candles light the very agreeable setting and I can't help but think - this beats a wedding in a Jersey hall anyday. The next day the owner insists we bring Duke to meet her. She affectionately calls him a cow and murmurs to him in Spanish. He bends his head to listen.

I think we've found our wedding destination.