La Bernerie-en-Retz, Brittany, France. Summer 2022.
I first heard of the happy news in May 2021, when Indonesia was the epicentre of the pandemic in Asia. I lost a dear friend to Covid-19. Many of us did. We lost our freedom. I know some of us had it harder: death, deteriorating health, financial hardship. If you did, and you are still here, I congratulate you for surviving.
The wedding invitation was something to look forward to after one year of social–physical–distancing. The 21st century global exile, mitigated by advanced medical science and information technology.
We met Meggan and Fabi in 2014. 2010s was a decade of immense growth. 2014-2015, the LLM year, was still the best year of my life so far. 2020 gave a surprise closure (not really, if we observe the cycles of history).
They were postgraduate students in London–Queen Mary and LSE–looking for affordable accommodation. They met on Facebook group, became flatmates in a council house in East London.
Meggan had a boyfriend, but they confided in each other. Bound by London’s student life and housing crisis.
The Greatest City in the World asks for overpriced rent. Living room was converted to bedrooms to maximise space; the walls are so thin you could hear the neighbours shouting; their almost feral chihuahua barking.
In return, London swallows you whole. Entertains and amuses you in a way inexhaustible within two lifetimes. You’d meet people from all around the world. Heard of countries you were ignorant about before. Shown forms of cultural expressions imaginable by our species; ideas, innovations, and traditions.
London is a place where ‘such stuff dreams are made on’.
Meg and Fab moved in together when they became steady–to a much better flat, with a Big Ben view. Celebrated Meggan’s twenty-fourth birthday there.
Then life after the insulated post-grad world happened. They love London, but found opportunities elsewhere. Fabi got a good job in Frankfurt. Meggan in Paris. Thus began their long distance relationship.
Fabi did not ask Meggan to move to Frankfurt because he did not want her to sacrifice her career. But they want to be together.
Everything falls into place, eventually. Meggan got a job in Frankfurt. Fabi proposed in London, after dinner at Dishoom–their favourite Indian restaurant, under the rain.
Like the Officiant of their wedding said, ‘Their story is straight out of romcom.’
I am glad that I can catch up on so much of their life just by attending their wedding.
It was also my first time attending secular wedding vows. Something illegitimate in Indonesia. I wish I could have that: the freedom to opt-out from religion in one of life’s greatest social events.
Marriage is not a life goal, but Meggan wanted to be married. With the right person.
The Europeans have moved forward from seeing marriage as a means of procreation and prostelysation. This is not a destruction of an institution, but an evolution–a progression. We are now richer than mediaeval kings. Our lives are more complex. Traditional social contracts need to be reconstructed to fit modern life.
We knew their wedding would be a special day in our lives, even without ever going through a pandemic. A beautiful intimate wedding in Bretagne under the summer sun. Gathered, reunited, in our elements as ultrasocial animals.
Meggan and Fabian organised the event themselves. The amount of thoughts and efforts dedicated to their wedding represent how much they are willing to work on their relationship.
‘Soulmates are made, not found.’
It has always been a privilege to feast. But when we have been fasting, the wine and butter taste even better.
We arrived in Bretagne, in Pornic, by train. Late because our Paris-Nantes train was delayed for more than two and half hours. ‘French trains, pfftt…’ they said. We missed the apero, but we were greeted by the Atlantic Ocean at Creperie de la Source.
And our friends, chosen family from the other sides of the globe.
By Toutatis, I was on the extreme end of joy. We were at the great here and now.
We stayed in Hotel Le Grand Large, a family owned and run accommodation. Anais the proprietor reminded us, repeatedly, not to be noisy. She seems to be traumatised by wedding guests. Glad that we could prove that we are not some twenty-something stag/hen party crowd.
Swam in the Atlantic. Sunkissed by the Galian sun. Had oysters and beers at Les Tontons bar, where the waitress is your typical French belle–the grace of imperfect beauty: freckles, gap teeth, wide forehead–with a shojo manga character tattoo on her left thigh. Ice creams from La Fraiseraie; fish of the day from Le Sud, the only restaurant open on Sunday evening (I was expecting a compromise on food quality, but this is France: service may be limited, yet food is an obsession). We walked at night from the wedding party and gazed at the starry sky.
La Bernerie-en-Retz is not the stereotypical beach town I am used to, i.e. loud; full of drunken tourists looking to get laid or creating social media content. It’s family friendly. It may not be drop dead gorgeous like the tropical beaches in South East Asia, but it feels homey.
By using an analogue camera, the M-trois, I took the risk of failed photographs. But it helped me to let go and to be intentional. I couldn’t review the images on the back LCD screen; I only have 36 shots or less (the first exposures always suffer from light leaks).
Now I am rewarded. As Fede told me: ‘Il sole bacia i belli.’
P.S. If only Cassio brought a partner and a black person was in attendance, the wedding would have been a model for a diversity event.