This was originally intended to be a post for #WeddingWednesday, but since this is the last post of the week before I get married in 2 days (!) I thought it would be fitting to post a bit about our engagement.
A little over a year ago my boyfriend and I of 6 years planned a trip to Paris. Paris is my favorite city, and I hadn’t been back since I studied abroad almost 10 years ago, so I was aching to visit the city and see if it had the same magic I remember. Mr. R is sadly not a fan of the French, mostly because he is a WWII buff and likes to pretend that they are lazy etc., and so chooses to take a blind eye over all of the wonderful contributions the French have made to society. The way I negotiated this trip however, is to promise him that we could spend a day or 2 in the french wine region of his choice (being that Mr. R is deeply obsessed with French wines you could see his inner struggle- he wanted to jump on the offer quickly but had to pretend like he was giving in).
Alright! Ticket was booked, AirBnB was reserved (in the 6th arrondisement bien sur), and stomach’s were empty to take in all the french delicacies our little American bodies could handle. We were off!
{our ever-so-french Air BnB}
{the first thing I did upon arriving in Paris}
{carrot veloute finished with pancetta}
I planned every inch of our time in Paris to a tee; I scheduled in the appropriate time for museums (very little), adequate time for shopping (I mean… I couldn’t carry that much), and ample time for eating and people watching (because for sure, Paris has the most perfect parks in which to eat your baguette and watch the beautiful people). Needless to say, after Mr. R’s first croissant and cafe au lait he was hooked. Soon enough he was grabbing fromage and asking to see the Eiffel Tower!
{yes, we did sip champagne and eat a baguette while people watching on our balcony}
Now the only part I didn’t plan was of course the excursion to the wine region of his dreams. After he spent lots of time talking to his mother’s cousin who lives in the south of France, he finally settled on Reims, or the Champagne region. It was a quick train ride away, we could go for just one day, and we could see a champagne maker and have a delicious lunch. What also clinched the deal is that his mother’s cousin was actually going to be in Reims the same time we were there and offered to show us around. How fortuitous!
The train ride to Reims was perfect; I was taking selfies and Mr. R was sweating buckets since he always gets motion sickness on trains. Typical ride with my man. Once we arrived in Reims, Mr. R informed me that we were meeting his mother’s cousin in a park across from the station by a red kiosk. Ok, eyes on alert, we are looking for a red ‘kiosk’. Well after a few minutes I pointed out a red gazebo –
Me: “That must be it! How many other red structures can there be in this park. I’m sure ‘kiosk’ was just lost in translation as ‘gazebo'”. These foreigners, you know?
Mr. R: “Yes darling, that must be it. You are always right” (ok so maybe I dreamed that response…)
Me: “Well, here we are. I don’t see anyone here but that woman sitting on a park bench”
Mr. R: “Yeah ok, well let’s just wait a while. Do you want to go up into that gazebo while we wait so that I can take some instagrams for you?”
I mean, let’s be honest. Was there anyway I was possibly going to say no to that?
Me: “Yay great!!! Get me walking around. Get me looking this way. What about this angle? What about my shoes? ”
Mr. R is shuffling to find his phone or something in his backpack, and meanwhile the woman on the park bench pops out of nowhere and starts taking photos of me!
Me: (in a hushed voice, completely distracted by my new paparazzi) “Mr. R- do you see her? Why is she taking photos of me? Does she think I’m famous?”
The next thing I know Mr. R is reading me a poem and down on one knee. To say I was surprised or blown away is an understatement to the highest degree. I seriously had no idea what was happening. I thought we were meeting his mother’s cousin. I thought that the cousin was late. I freakin’ thought that this woman was theStyleSafari paparazzi. Wow, I couldn’t have been more off.
The woman? She turned out to be a french photographer that Mr. R and his mom communicated with back in the states. The cousin? Well, he exists, but certainly know nothing about Reims and was not there that day. The sweat on the train ride? Well, yes Mr. R does get motion sickness but now I know the real reason for his unrest. The ring? Mr. R brought it to Europe safely tucked away in an envelope, taped in between pages of a notebook, in a manila folder, in his trusty backpack that he had been carrying around all week. There were so many elements of how? what? who? that I was completely shocked and all the more pleased that I waited 6 years for it to happen. Everyone told me, they had guessed it! They knew he was going to propose! But not me, it wasn’t even the last thing on my mind.
The best part about the engagement (sorry friends and family!) is that we had to wait almost an entire day to tell anyone because of the time change. It was honestly lovely to go to a beautiful lunch in Reims, enjoy the afternoon sipping champagne, and have the day and moment and memory to ourselves before speaking of it out loud. We had those few hours together, to be astonished and in love, and marvel at how our relationship and story had come so far.
Every engagement story is special, and I love mine because it is so special to me. On this day, 2 days before I walk down the aisle to marry Mr. R, I know that should times get tough and challenges appear, I am marrying a man who will never cease to surprise me.
I have included some photos of the engagement from our wonderful french photographer, as well as some of the other milestones that happened that day.
{me, swinging from the poles at Pommery, one of the oldest Champagne houses in Reims}
{our lovely lunch at cote cuisine in Reims}
Are you engaged/married? What was your engagement story like? I would love to hear in the comments!
