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There were two; one was a wedding and the other a minor sports competition that for some reason the Spanish went crazy about.
On the 9th July, I jumped on a train that glided peacefully through the Spanish countryside and deposited me about 3 hours later in Santander. Where, to my surprise, Jorge had remembered to pick me up. We drove around Santander a bit and he introduced me to his mother (I was starting to wonder who he was marrying), a charming woman whose English was possibly worse than my Spanish.

Then it was off to the house where the wedding would take place, an old mansion owned by Jorge’s family. There was much cleaning and running around going on so I sat a watched.

The next day it was time for the wedding, the ceremony was in some weird foreign language but sounded lovely and the groom seemed to get quite emotional about it.

Oh and the Spanish won the other thing, not entirely sure what the rules were but it seemed to be some kind of mass brawl.

Rosko recommends: A long and happy marriage for Jorge and Marta.

Food of the stay: There is so much to choose from, the constant plates of nibbles at the wedding were all fantastic, I just wish I had kept the menu so I could find them again.