Welcome back—or hi if you’re new! Last week, I briefly mentioned we were in Romania for a friend’s wedding. For once, I’m a guest! After having shot numerous weddings myself, it’s actually a pretty rare—but welcome—occassion.
The travel there was a bit of a trek. We had to leave home at 2 am to drive to London Luton airport for a 7:50 am flight, so it made sense not to bother going to bed at all. We needed a large enough travel window to also account for charging our car on the way, parking up, and getting on the airport bus—so the travel time quickly added up.
The flight was smooth, and we managed a decent 3-hour shuteye to power us through the day. This was followed by a 25-minute drive into town (chauffeured by the bride’s uncle, Valentin), checking into the hotel, and still having a few hours before getting ready. The hotel had a fantastic rooftop restaurant so we tucked into some well-needed brunch/lunch.
The wedding was held at En Provence, a beautiful venue 15 minutes away from the city centre. At first glance from the outside, you wouldn’t be able to tell how elegant it is inside. It was just off one of the main roads in Constanta, surrounded by dust, sand, and cement.
It wasn’t a full-on traditional Romanian wedding (the groom was English, and his side of the family was there, too), but it was close enough. The celebrant spoke Romanian first and English second, so everyone knew what was happening.
(We later spotted her having a great time on the dance floor).
You know what? I didn’t even take any photos during or after the ceremony. At first, I had that little photographer’s guilt inside of me, but my rational mind was telling me, ‘You don’t need to. They have a photographer.’
But if you’ve been around here for a while, you know I don’t travel without my Fujifilm camera. It’s small enough to fit in my handbag, so it accompanies me to most places.
Photos aside, the food was beyond words. We looked at the menu (thank you, Google Translate) and thought to ourselves, ‘Surely, that amount of food will be shared between everyone at the table.’
Like at Indian weddings, where food is served in numerous plates and bowls for everyone to take as much or as little as they want.
It turned out everyone was getting each dish. After the first serving, I was already starting to get full, which wasn’t boding well for the rest of the night.
But the difference between more traditional English weddings is that here, we had plenty to do between each meal—especially if you want to burn some calories on the dance floor before the next dish is served or simply watch the entertainers.
We’d have a wander around until, eventually, one of the servers (the staff were incredible) encouraged us to join in on a traditional Romanian dance. We’d hold hands in a large circle and dance around.
The DJ must’ve had an extended version of the song because it seemed to last forever—we’d start to get a sweat on while all Romanians, even the elderly, were unfazed. This definitely called for a good bit of fresh, cool evening air before returning to our seats.
It was a nice bonding experience, and the hospitality of the staff and the people around us made it easy to bridge any cultural and linguistic differences.
As for our table—we were sat next to some of the bride’s friends. One of them was a surgeon whose wife was a lab technician. He bet us £10,000 if we could guess the occupation of the woman across from us. We tried our best, but there was no competition—the answer was a ‘dolphin trainer’.
I remembered an aquarium I had spotted on the city map, and it turned out that she worked there.
We also learned that newborn dolphins can reach up to 30% of their mother’s weight.
Later, we also made our way to the dessert table. The macarons (not macaroons) would simply melt—I couldn’t even fathom having anything heavier with how much food we had already had.
Every bit of it, though, was an enjoyable gastronomic experience, even if every plate was followed with a, ‘I’m so full, I can’t move.’
We didn’t quite make it to the very end of the wedding, but two introverts running on three hours of sleep is not the best formula for staying up all night. The next morning, we didn’t even go down for breakfast because we were still full from the previous night’s food.
But we spent the whole day lounging around, and I had arranged a little wedding gift for the bride—a quick portrait shoot on the beach. The couple were leaving for a mini-moon in Greece the next day, so we met up just before sunset to catch those final warm rays.
As an immigrant myself, I know how important (and rare) it is to get photographs of yourself back home. Not the typical ‘smile-and-look-at-the-camera’ kind. But rather, ‘This is a brief, nostalgic moment for me to get lost in my thoughts and enjoy this solo romance’-type.
I can’t wait to share more of these next time, but here’s a sneak peek.
Coming back home from our trip on a Tuesday meant I had to cram work more intensively across the rest of the business days, but I wouldn’t change it. I’m currently typing this from my bed after travelling back from an English Bench Press Championship, but that’s a story for another day. (No, it wasn’t me lifting—I was just the helper).
There will be plenty of time for slow weekends at home, right?
That’s all from me this week—if you enjoyed this newsletter issue and haven’t subscribed yet, you can click the button below. I’d love to have you here! Hopefully, catch you next week.✨