The Wedding

It's kind of hard to describe the happiest day of your life so far.I'm not even going to try. I hope this video here and these small section of photos give you a feel for what it was all about.

The Fitzgerald's meet Christ and the Big Pig

As we sat in the Jury’s hotel reception room 5 minutes away from Dublin airport munching on some chips, crisps and chicken sandwiches the night before the 9.20am flight the next day to London and onto Paraty, Rio  the scene was set and the protagonists with varying degrees of travel experience insitu in high spirits. I love that feeling just before you are about to go travelling. It was here again. After receiving a warm heartfelt best wishes phone call from my godmother who finished with a “look after your mother” I sat back and took a moment to ponder on the momentous journey that was about to unfold and the loved ones who were coming along for the ride. For me the journey would consist of: Dublin-London-Rio-Paraty-Ilha Grande-Rio-Buenos Aires-Cape Town-Port Elizabeth-Johannesburg-Port Louis- Paris-Dublin. A generous 5 weeks off work and 6 countries to traverse. For the others 1 week which would consist of  Waterford-Dublin-London-Rio-Paraty-Rio-London-Dublin and the final leg back down the road to Waterford. 

Munching into a well cooked chicken breast with some chips was my beautiful mother. Omnipresent in my life and forever with me where ever I go. This time she was coming with me. With two flights in her life, on both occasions to England ( to visit her sister and her sister’s family) this was the biggest trip of her life, bar none, and probably always would be. She was nervous but excited.  My father had never flown before. Eventhough he would argue that he flies in the cold waters of Tramore everyday  of the week as he dives, floats and breast strokes in the cold south eastery waters of Ireland. A great man about to go on (at least physically) a great journey: an turas fada. Calm, collected but also excited I enjoyed knowing that he was about to experience a wonderful trip that I hoped would give him many new colours to dip into when painting pictures of the soul.  Normally one to travel inside. He was about to go outside.  I knew, more than anyone else, he would probably be the main benefactor from the experience. Having got lost already using the lift in Jury’s to find his room I smiled to myself knowing that this was going to be unforgettable for my Dad and for all of us.  

My brother Joseph, his wife Eleanor and their beautiful all singing all dancing daughter Ellen were next. All experienced veteran’s of the air with countless miles racked up after numerous trips to the US and Europe. However, this trip would be completely different to any they had been on before. It would be late 30’s in temperature. They would have to manage a country where not a lot of English was in use and also the food would be a lot more different than probably anything they had experienced before.  Whether they would enjoy it or not I wasn’t full sure.

Then to make up the final elements of the travelling party was my childhood friend Bryan Walsh and his lovely wife Gillian. Both had been to Brazil with me before for the carnival and both where making a big sacrifice of leaving their two children for a week to come and be present at my wedding. Something I will always be grateful to them for. The Walsh’s a bit like Joseph come from the modern Irish travelling generation, as I did, that had been blessed to see the world.  This trip for both of them would be a walk in the park. With a couple of books and a glass of wine once we left London they’d drift off to sleep on the plane as if they had caught the train from Plunket station in Waterford to Heuston station in Dublin.

 At the table with the usual sounds of a busy hotel in the air I took a moment to think to  myself as myriad images came to the fore. I grabbed at them and help to one. It was gratitude. Gratitude for getting to this stage in my life with so many loved ones beside me. Gratitude for being lucky enough to be marrying such a wonderful women: Camila Montilha de Morales, soon to be Fitzgerald. Gratitude to be so privileged in life to be able to do the things I was about to do while Hait’s castrophe still roared and the plights of so many people’s silent and unheard cries rose to the heavens with no one to hear with no one to hear nor defenders in sight.  Here I was muching chips, crips and chicken with the most important people in my life getting ready to go to Rio. I felt extreme contentment and happiness.

Approximately 24 hours later we were outside our hotel the Rio Othan, on Copacobana, listening to the waves, sipping on some agua de coco and caipirinha’s and saying hello to my good friend Robbie Griffin who had made his way down alone the day before from Dublin. To my surprise, everything had gone smoothly and there was no issues. My mother’s asthma had not played up and neither was the heat causing her any problems. My dad had enjoyed the trip and was enjoying the foreign surroundings of the beach and all the little peculiarities that the new local had to offer. 

Like an expedition to the Himalayas Mam and Eleanor had planned well.  At least a years planning went into their bags. And I’m sure my mother had gone on many trip to Clonmel and Kilkenny with my wonderful Aunt Una (who I’m sure had her part to play in making all plans were double checked).  My brother had walkie talkies ready for all to use. My father bought his first pair of prescription shades and half a pharmacy and half a swimming pool was with us. Thankfully, the flights went well, and we all got to the beautiful Atlantico Avenue, Copacobana, and our lovely hotel the Rio Othan, with enough time to spare to have some tasty steak and onions washed down by a coconut water. We all sat there taking in the beautiful beach and happy that we had arrived. There was a lot to do the following day and Rio as all who have been there know has much to offer.

Christ the Redeember or as the locals call it O Cristo Redentor  is the  iconic statue of Christ that towers over the city.  It  stands 39.6 metres (130 ft) tall and 30 metres (98 ft) wide. It weighs 635 tons , and is located at the peak of the 700 metres (2,300 ft) Corcovado mountain in the Tijuca Forest National Park overlooking the city. It is one of the tallest of its kind in the world and the Fitzgerald family was very impressed when we paid it a visit. 

 Besides the beauty of the vista from the top, which is one of the best I have ever sceen we also got a chance to visit the tiny tiny church at the heel of the statue. Most visitors don't even know it is there.  I pointed it out to my father who promintly gathered the trops in probably the smallest church any of us had been in to say a decade of the rosary in Irish.  I’m pretty certain it was probably the only decade of the rosary ever said there in Irish. It was a forever moment to remember. Afterwards we gently descended down the newly created escalators and then made our way to do some shopping and try find my Dad a pair of sandels.

That night we all went to a churrascaria or Brazilian steakhouse. Churrasco is the cooking style, which translates roughly from the Portuguese for 'barbecue'. Camila and I had planned carefully and we were all booked into the best one in Rio: Porcao, or the big pig!  The word barbeque for Irish people conjurs up an image of back gardens, spits, charcoal, burgers, sausages and chicken wings.  For the more adventurous it might mean marinated chicken breasts, scallops, monk fish, squid and some quickly flipped mackerel. For the Brazilian’s it’s very very different. Picture a huge salad and sushi table 4/5 meters in circumference with lots of exotic cheeses, pastas and vegetables with a generous offering of Japanese style foods and cheese breads. This is the starters offered with local Gurana drink, coconut juice, soft drinks and wines.  Next you get a picture of a cow divided into over 13 cuts. You also get 2/3 waiters, per person! On your table, like a beer matt, you have a green piece of cardboard on the front and red on the back. When you flip it to green, you are giving a signal to the waiters to come at you as quick as possible with as many meets as possible for you to eat. When the signal in red, it mean’s leave us alone, to try digest what we had eaten. And so on and on it goes. Plate after plate. Dish after dish. Drink after drink.  But the cow is only half the story! Then comes the chicken, all sorts of fishes and they don’t call it the Big Pig for nothing. Lot’s of bacon on offer and lot’s of fillers like melted mozarella cheese, empanadas, onion rings, fried banana fritters and chips all a mere nod and a wink to a waiter away.  Churrascaria’s are built for international rugby teams that haven’t ate for days. They are built for gormandisers of meat who delight on salty, perfectly cooked, slivers of tender rump or picanaha steak that’s juices are just as nice as the meet itself. They are unforgettable food and drink marathons.  If  ever I was on death row and a I was asked what would be my last meal.  A churrascaria standard all inclusive menu in the Big Pig, Rio, would be my unanimous choice.   

It was a food education the Fitzgerald family won't forget and for and all in 50 euros for 2 hours and and as much food as you could eat great value. I can’t wait to go back… From Porcao it was a taxi back to the Othan Palace, early to bed,  to get ready to catch the bus the next day  for the beautiful sleepy town of Paraty!