Marritius
The happy couple. Don’t mind the Clint-Eastwood-at-high-noon look. He just has the sun in his eyes. He is not at all planning to kick your ass.
This blog entry has less to do with Mauritius than with what my sister Dóra and her (then) boyfriend Jón Ívar did there a couple of weeks ago.
They went there for a conference and a holiday, and came back husband and wife.
Planned it for months, didn’t tell anyone, just went ahead and wed on the beach, and then got back and dealt us all a classic “oh, by the way…”
Cool!
They’ll do a ceremony and party here at home too, so that friends and relatives don’t miss out. But sneaking away to a romantic remote outpost and tying the proverbial knot before anyone knew — that agrees with me somehow :)
And Jón Ívar has my unreserved approval. The finest black-belt ob/gyn nice-guy I know. That’s some range, folks: he can kick people’s asses and deliver people’s babies. These two sets of people hopefully do not overlap much. And if either one (ass-kicking or childbirth) causes grievous bodily harm, he can patch it up afterwards with laparoscopic reconstructive pelvic surgery too. A man of action, but also a man who tidies up after himself. A man to my liking.
But of course he is. My sister ain’t no fool.