Mr and Mrs Servais

10 October 2015

The first hurdle was of course the administration.  Maybe (definitely) I was too confident, and I should not have trusted whoever told me (this was an official email from the town hall, back in December 2014) that all we needed to get married was our passport.  Or maybe I should have known this would end badly. Just because organising a wedding from the other side of the world is bound to go wrong.

Anyways, after being told we needed to produce a proof of residence and a single status certificate (go to the Australian Embassy in Brussels and sign an affidavit) ; a birth certificate (luckily I was born in another part of Brussels, not on the other side of the country) ; go to the French Consulate on a hunch and being told this was in fact required to get our wedding validated in France ; have our Australian and French documents certified by the Minister of Foreign Affairs ; then obtain an authorization to get married by the Crown Prosecutor, finally, we had all the documents required.  In four days.

This was ten days before the wedding day, had we not been able to obtain all this paperwork, we were screwed.  Or rather, I was, because Claire wasn’t going to have it.  No way, huh huh.

Phew, I dodged the bullet on that one.

So, off to the Grand Place we went.  Lots of people get married here every Saturday.  But even more people come to the Grand Place to see it.  So you can imagine the square being filled by tourists in thongs and t-shirts, alongside our guests dressed in their best frocks and high heels.   A tad surreal.  Claire in her stunning white dress, me in my English morning suit (no top hat). Awesome.

And then it was our turn.  The halberdier (yes you read it correctly, there are halberdiers checking us in and out, leading us to the Wedding Hall, with their costume, hat, gloves, the lot) called our names, and had us wait a little longer in the vestibule, all decorated with statues, 16^th century paintings on the ceilings and walls, crafted wooden floors covered with delicate carpets.  Very true to the original function of this Town Hall, which was built in early 1400, and even held a temporary government during the third French revolution.

This is it.  “I now pronounce you husband and wife”.  Our families and friends all came for us, most could fit in the Wedding Hall, and watch us exchange vows, then rings, then be officially Mr and Mrs!  It was actually a lot quicker than I expected. Half an hour, tops.  Can we go again?

After the traditional balcony salute, with friends, families and tourists all waving at us like Charles and Diana, we headed for the first part of the afternoon.

Claire opted out her high heels and discretely slip on her Havaianas thongs, the cobblestone may be 800 years old but it’s still a deadly walk across the Grand Place, through the most touristic street of Brussels, passing the many tourists who fell for the hagglers into their crappy restaurants (we are probably on a hundred smart phones, Twitter, Instagram or Facebook accounts right now) and into the Hoppy Loft.

It’s in this very pub that I popped the question in April 2014, it’s also in this pub that I spent way too many nights, and mornings, since it opened ten years ago.

What better way to celebrate your wedding, amongst your best friends, your closest relatives, the best beers on tap, and awesome food prepared by our lovely caterer.

A few hours later, we had to leave so the pub could re-open to the general public and we made our way to “Part Two” of the afternoon.

Most of my fondest childhood memories were from this house.  My Grandfather may no longer be with us today but I think he was, in a way.  The barn was beautiful, the dinner spectacular and the guests superb.  Even the weather was spot on, a super-dry month in July, then rain for a few days, sunshine just on the day, and rain again the next week.

And just like that, August 22nd, we were married.

The official photos can be found here and on the other blog (in French).