The Wedding of Alaine and Dave

Fp.laussy.jpg The recollections below our mine.

We were lucky enough to attend Dave and Alaine's wedding in Tuscany (as I'm not sure I can disclose names, I'll just precise that he's English and so is the American bride, now). This was a great experience as it blended the American wedding style with exceptional surroundings and fantastic food.


We stayed at this place, a nice-looking little house overlooking wineyards, but clumsily accommodated for the tourists. A TV screen featured only one channel with creepy people conversing with a call girl over the phone. We shared the place with Tom, Rachel, Dean, Charlotte and Maria, the couple's Southampton-University friends.

As we were the last to arrive to Miravalle, we've been flushed to the basement, which was terribly cold and a little scary, facing an even colder garage full of broken stuff with a warning sign: "keep locked at all times for your own security". The only colder things of all was the pool, still most took a dive.


The wedding was taking place in the breathtaking town of Siena, with a gorgeous town hall, where the young couple met with their moral and legal duties. It was a touching ceremony in the beautiful Palazzo Pubblico, with a romantic mayor exalting the texts (sadly the English translation was stripping off the poetry). A couple overlooked the ceremony at a distance putting an obvious and quite mysterious personal involvement to it. After going through all the possible scenario with Maria, we later learned they were two foreigners who, like our newly-weds, were married in the very same room some twenty years ago, and were through this ceremony always repeated but always unique, living again a bit of their own personal story.

Following a succulent Prosecco toast in the beautifully carved and curved Piazza del Campo, as we were waiting for the bus to bring us back to Casa Cornacchi, I spotted Salvatore Adamo taking pictures of the fountain. Of course I gave myself the benefit of the doubt, but then his unique voice addressed the small company around him and, as he noticed I was looking at him, the little nod and his smiling pride of being recognized everywhere made it totally certain: here in the spiraling plaza waltzing with the gigantic brick houses, at the center of it all, I was feeling sublimated [1].

C'est ma vie, je n'y peux rien, c'est elle qui m'a choisi,
C'est ma vie, c'est pas l'enfer, c'est pas le paradis.

Casa Cornacchi

The couple and family plus close friends were staying at the Casa Cornacchi, a little paradise with Tuscany all around and barn swallows all over. I remember every taste of the dinner following the ceremony to this day. Everything was mouth watering, but the creamy pasta with truffle and the blue rare, thick red, juicy meat after that were just amazing. The cook himself exclaimed in his heart melting Italian accent, when serving my portion, "this is really rare!". I must have eaten like a few kilos of the ton of savoury melon cut as ready to eat. At this occasion, we also met with a nice fellow, with a remote resemblance to Graham Chapman whose name turned out to be Brian. He made the only spontaneous toast of the event and was, as a rule, the centre of all attractions on our table.

See Also