Barcelona, Part IV: The Wedding

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Hey there. It’s been a while. Maybe so long that you thought this was a trilogy. Turns out it wasn’t. It’s a…tetralogy? Sure. In fact, this fourth part covers the whole reason I went to Barcelona in the first place: to see my friends Steve and Rachel get married.

(Previously, parts I, II, and III. Definitely not a trilogy.)

Bar Bocata

The first order of business was to get some food and coffee in me. Finally we got some sunlight—perfect weather for the wedding. After some much-needed basking in it for a bit with my friend Mike, I joined him and his partner Allison for breakfast at Bar Bocata, a cute hipster café with a weird head sculpture hanging on the wall just over the border into the district Sarrià-Sant Gervasi. By now, I was in the groove. Two coffees and a tortilla de patatas with a side of pan con tomate. God, I could eat that for the rest of my life and not get bored with it.

The Wedding

After breakfast, we went back to the hotel and changed into our good clothes, then met up with everyone else and packed into a chartered bus that took us out to a beautiful wedding venue out in Sant Vicenç de Montalt called Can Marial. While nobody but the official photographers were allowed to photograph the ceremony, I took as many photos as I could outside of that (and am posting them here with permission). The place was stunning, nestled on a picturesque hillside with plenty of lush greenery and terra cotta roofed houses. Peacocks roamed the premises. Lots of friends were in attendance. How could I not?

Hors d’Oeuvres

Next, we made our way over from the chapel to a larger house, which had a sprawling patio overlooking houses below that stretched out to the Mediterranean Sea. Lots of food, drinks, and conversation. Beautiful architecture and light. And a very competitive bouquet toss. All this against the backdrop of a gently setting sun.

The Reception

We then moved on to yet another building—I was just beginning to appreciate how sprawling this venue was. There were parts of it we didn’t even see. At last, it was time for dinner, speeches, and dancing.

Going Home

Like a fool, I’d booked a red-eye flight directly after the wedding. I am incapable of sleeping on planes, but this was one of the cheapest available. I thought I was cutting it close with the bus ride back to the hotel, quickly changing into street clothes, finishing some last-second packing, checking out in the middle of the night, and getting a taxi to the airport. But I managed to make it with plenty of time to spare. Unlike in JFK, or perhaps because it was the middle of the night, security was a breeze. I experienced the joys of airport tortilla de patatas—nothing compared to Bar Bocata’s earlier in the day, but it sure got the job done. But not quite full, I stopped by a very authentic Italian Caffè called Authentic Italian Caffè.

This time, I took a smaller plane to Frankfurt, where I had a layover. There was quite a lack of vegetarian food at the airport, but I somehow managed. I took one of those gigantic double-decker Airbus planes back across the Atlantic where you go downstairs to use the restroom. I tried but failed to sleep on the plane, but before I knew it, I was back in New York, utterly exhausted and ready to sleep forever.

Thanks for checking out part IV after all this time. Previously, parts I, II, and III .

Want to be in photos like these or buy prints? Send me an email. I’m no longer on Instagram, so if you message me there, I won’t see it. You can also drop me a line on Signal, Mastodon, or Bluesky.