Upon return from our engagement trip the ring was top priority for me.  Partly because we were soon headed back to Michigan for Alexa and Kevin’s wedding, but mostly because it’s a super fun thing to choose a beautiful ring.  David had a bit of a plan already:  he liked Jeff Sahadi jewelers right on Piedmont avenue since that’s where he’d purchased the proposal ring and where he was storing my grandma’s diamond that my mom had given him at Christmas.  They were up for designing anything we wanted and even though that was his idea for starters, he was happy to explore other options as I wished.  I certainly appreciate having a clear plan and sticking to it, but I did want to look around a bit and be sure that we were working with the ideal people for the project.  We read a couple negative reviews online, but came to realize that all that really told us was that there were rare cases of a mismatch of personality between staff and customers.  But that whole process took a couple days to work through.  Ultimately, our experience was wonderful and we are perfectly happy with my ring.  But I think the evaluation process was still good just for peace of mind’s sake.

Given that David proposed in a abbey ruin, and his love of cathedral architecture had led him to that special spot years before, I suggested that we take that overall design scheme on as a theme for our celebration.  It made good sense to us both to pick certain elements as anchors throughout our process.  I was happy to be included in something special to David and he was happy to include me.  Knowing that my client Kathy was a ring enthusiast my first action was to check in with her for tips.  She recommended Pave on College so I stopped in to see their offerings.  At this point I was still getting used to being a bride to be, mostly feeling awkward about all the attention with which I was being routinely showered.  The gals there were very sweet and put me at ease with the whole idea of purchasing a ring far fancier than I had ever seriously considering wearing.  The prices of the rings brought me back to my recurring theory that somehow I am a princess misplaced in a middle class family on the wrong side of the Atlantic in this lifetime.  Pretty much every ring I liked had a price tag of around $10,000, definitely too much money and too much bling.  I liked the overall styles, but was ultimately looking for something much simpler and understated.  I landed on one ring that was literally covered in diamonds with a great big one in the middle surrounded by 12 little ones in a fashion reminiscent of a rose window.  Remembering the awe I felt in gazing up at the huge rose windows in Notre Dame cathedral, I knew that this was the setting for me.  Now, what about all those diamonds???

I headed back to the apartment a bit riled up on account of being overwhelmed with diamonds, money, and in the midst of all that finding something that I really loved and knew would always carry special meaning for me.  Breaking my news to David turned out to be pretty fun on account of all three of his married co-workers being present and eager to witness the negotiations with the particular brand of pleasure that initiates feels watching others go through a potentially inharmonious rite of passion:  navigating the desires of the bride to be vis a vis the future husband’s budget.  We concluded that we could take the element that I like to Jeff Sahadi and make it work for us within the constraints of our budget and lifestyle.

And that’s what we did.  We showed him a picture of the rose window ring, told him what we liked and what we didn’t need.  We opted for molding the bands in the style of gothic cathedral columns with a rose window setting for my grandma’s diamond and 8 little diamonds surrounding it (my grandma’s diamond is a bit smaller than the one in the ring that I saw).  Jeff assured me that the ring would be low set for good comfort and function, a definite must for my active days.  The center stone is bezel set which we liked for design, function, and security factors.  Not having a particular preference for the metal used and being assured that the stone was well secured with the setting, I opted for white gold instead of the more expensive platinum.  I like my choice because in some lights I can detect the contrast between the metal and the stones which I find pretty.  We did have to clarify our design a bit when it came to the columns, as the wax mold was made with Greek style columns instead of Gothic ones.  Ultimately we were pleased that we insisted on our preference since it is true to our original design concept.  Upon receiving the finished product, there were a couple elements that brought us surprise:  that the center bezel wasn’t embellished with the same metal work as the surrounding petals and that the sides are fairly plain.  The jeweler’s were happy to accommodate whatever changes we liked but we opted to start with the ring as was and consider modifications at a later time.  Jennifer, who assisted Jeff in consulting us, suggested that the center stone was made more prominent by the bezel set being plain as opposed to having the intricate metal work that we had both expected.  Ultimately we’ve chosen to trust her expertise and have kept the ring as we first received it.  An added bonus: the cost totaled $1300 less than David’s maximum budgeted price.  We ended up with just what we wanted without feeling fleeced in the least!

My ring is unique to us, a design that originates in personal and shared experiences close to our hearts.  Aside from being rich with symbolism, we both enjoy gazing at it.  As the richness of our life together deepens, I imagine that my ring will grow even more beautiful in my eyes.  And that is ultimately what is most important.

Re-entry

Even though the trip had been a tremendous break from our usual reality, I was looking forward to returning home.  We stopped by Tesco to pick up David’s favorite cookies and black currant juice, then we were back to the airport, ready for a long ride home.  I finished my book by Michael Pollan and had another one to start:  The Friday Night Knitting Club courtesy of David’s aunt, Margo.  I dug in and was pretty much rooted to my seat for the rest of the way back to San Francisco.  This left David a bit stranded in terms of companionship, but the book was far too engrossing for me to be concerned about being considerate (sorry sweetie).  Due to past vacations put awry by my being completely swept away by a book, David has issued a mandate that all such books be banned from vacations.  Lucky for me I started reading on the plane, otherwise, upon witnessing my quick departure from reality, David would have confiscated the book, if not thrown it away.  What an emotional roller coaster that story was!  I was crying off and on through the whole book and by the end had devolved into a complete wreck.  Thank goodness I finished before we landed, lest the turmoil continue into daily life.  David just grinned, shook his head and kept to himself.

We are happy to be home and have sunk back into life quite nicely.  While our betrothal seems perfectly normal and serene, my status as bride to be has taken some getting used to.  The first week was a little strange what with all the ooo-ing and ahhh-ing from strangers, but that’s pretty much finished now and we’re ticking along as usual.  Wedding plans are progressing at a steady pace and the future is looking pretty darn good.

When hatching our evacuation plan we’d decided on getting a cab to take us to the bus depot where we’d continue on to Beauvais.  We’d learned that it was very important not to be late to the bus stop and a taxi ride seemed like the most civilized way to be punctual and stress free.  We ate as much yogurt and stinky cheese as we could and headed down to the lobby, where a courteous taxi driver greeted us an whisked us away.  We arrived at the bus depot and waited.  We were among a lot of confused tourists.  None of us knew what we were doing, but we all just paid attention and in time we purchased our tickets and boarded our bus.  One soothing nap later and we were out in the country side, which to be honest seemed preferable to the urban landscape that we’d just left.

The airline’s policy on weight limits seemed to be more strictly enforced than on our flight into France so we went about rearranging our possessions to get in under the limit.  I made a trip to the toilet which wasn’t very fun, quite a different experience from my trip the day before.  It was a small, hot little room with a few ladies waiting interminably for the changeover of stalls to occur.  We were all dreading what awaited the unfortunate patron who was to follow up the person who was taking so damn long in there.  Then there was the matter of no toilet paper.  We had a break when one person mercifully distributed tissue to the rest of us from the open stall.  We all stood ready and eventually I was out of there.  In that case anticipation had worked to my advantage and the departure left me thinking that it wasn’t all that bad after all.

Sunday was a day of waiting, at the bus depot, then outside security, then at the gate.  Threatened by the very unpleasant notion of missing our bus or plane, we tourists had diligently gotten ourselves there on time, which by the way, means a minimum of 2 hours early.  Now we had to wait.  If only the airline were so concerned about its own punctuality!  But then again, they have the whole airplane component to deal with, so I’ll keep my complaints to myself.  Best to be a little late and safe!  While we were waiting we struck up a conversation with a couple returning home to Dublin.  The husband was a great lover of politics, especially in the US and the wife was a great lover of touring in the US.  Together they had lots of interesting stories and insights.  He’s the one who pretty aptly said, “Every Irish person wants to fight for a free Ireland, but nobody wants to live there.”  This was in the context of discussing the confused government policies and general folly of implementation that seems to continually stymie the mechanics of governance.  They also gave us a bit of advice about the ways of the Irish:  when you ask someone for directions and they end with “yah cahn’t miss it” you know that they don’t know what they’re talking about and it’s best to ask somebody else.  Apparently an Irish person will never confess ignorance, so it’s best to keep asking until you get concrete facts about the topic of your inquiry.  That’s when you’re guaranteed accurate information.  The more vague, the less informed the source.  Those Irish sure do have sensible advice!

Eventually we boarded and had an uneventful trip back.  Armed with more knowledge about the ways of the Irish than our first time, we approached the rental car company’s representative a little differently.  When we inquired about the M50 we finally got the real story:  Hertz had been through a lengthy process of negotiation with the government to register its few thousand cars with the toll system.  The deal was nearly closed when the government dropped it and since then nothing has developed.  We hadn’t been charged a single euro and wouldn’t be on account of the Irish government’s lack of follow through.  Good for us, not so for the Irish.  Here’s hoping for their sake that they eventually “get it right.”

We had a good plan for our last evening, a trip to the Guiness storehouse on Jason’s fervent recommendation.  Unfortunately I think part of the magic was lost on us since neither David nor I is a big fan of the famous brew.  For nearly the whole day I’d been imagining a delicious meal atop the storehouse.  Our plan was to take the tour and have one last tasty Irish meal.  I had my heart set on a pot pie and some sort of apple dessert.  At this point in the story, you’re probably thinking, there goes Faye with those expectations unfounded in reality, setting herself up for disappointment yet again!  Well, you’re right, in the short term at least.  The storehouse was open until 7p (we’d had the good sense to confirm that before showing up), but the restaurant that, in my mind, was meant to serve me my perfect last meal closed 2 hours earlier.  And yes, astute reader, you guessed it, it had closed just before we arrived.  Oh the devastation!  We had a snack at the informal cafe since I was hungry (little wonder I was so worked up about the restaurant being closed) and continued on with the tour.    With every step I took, the old feeling of being a sucker of a tourist was mounting within me.  Here we’d paid this company 26 euro to provide us with a self-guided, seven story walking advertisement for a beverage neither of us loved!  I developed a theory that there are two kinds of attractions, the kind that educate a person to be more informed about the surrounding world and culture and the kind that sucker a person into being a more prodigious consumer of whatever the attraction is selling.  By my estimation, Guiness Storehouse falls into the latter category.  Being the ultimate 20th century consumer that my mom reared me to be, I found the most interesting part of the tour to be the numerous displays of Guiness paraphernalia.  I particularly liked the idea that “Guiness is good for you” and recommended by doctors.  I was beginning to wonder if it was indeed true, yes I am a major sucker.  We arrived at the top, where the real party was going full swing.  Unfortunately we found out from Jason afterward that it’s best to request the room temperature brew which is how the Irish enjoy their Guiness.  I’m not sure it would have increased my enjoyment too much, but it would have been nice to at least have the authentic experience.   We know for next time.  We didn’t drink too much and it seemed a shame to waste the ‘healthy’ elixir, but the party was winding down and we had to rustle ourselves up some dinner in the town of Dublin.

We headed to the city center for one last hurrah, found a parking spot on the street, checked the signs thoroughly, and asked a local walking along if it was okay to park there.  Her answer had enough specificity to convince us she was accurately informed and we set out to hunt down a good restaurant.  I can’t exactly remember how we found the restaurant, I think that they had something about local or organic produce that caught David’s eye.  What luck!  It was fabulous, one of the top meals of our trip, and not too expensive!  Here’s the best part, I had a chicken pot pie that was delicious and apple pie with ice cream for dessert!  Just as I had imagined.  Silly me, I’d just gotten the location wrong.  David enjoyed his meal equally, it was a really yummy steak sandwich to use his words.  There was something particularly tasty in it but we couldn’t figure out what it was, perhaps a beet?  We asked one of the people helping us and she said she didn’t have any idea.  When we suggested that she ask in the kitchen, she gave us an incredulous look with a self-deprecating shrug that made it clear we’d never know what exactly made David’s sandwich so tasty.  Another thing we came to realize about Ireland:  they make a mean apple pie.  If it’s up to David’s standards, it’s got to be good!

What luck, we’d finished off with a perfectly delicious meal in a place that we’d grown fond of in just a few days’ time.  We’d had a wonderful trip.  I can’t imagine anyone else that I’d have wanted to spend those days with even when moods were less then amiable.  To have shared so many good times with David was really fun, but just being together for an extended amount of time was truly a gift.  Thank you David, for the most perfect engagement present.  It bodes well for a long and happy life together.  Love, Faye