Nearly eleven years ago to this day, a gangly boy from Syracuse met a beautiful girl from Los Angeles by an odd stroke of luck, as they both went to the wrong hotel upon orientation of a study abroad program in Sevilla, Spain. Without much dating experience, he asked her to dinner that very same evening, in which she accepted, marking the start of a relationship that had a near zero probability of success. He had no connection to the west coast; she had no connection to the east coast, but there was something so clearly special that made them want to try. In a successful attempt for a second date, he pretended not to know the Spanish language to secure one-on-one time in the library for her to teach him. As time went on and the relationship grew stronger, by another piece of luck, circumstance, and blind confidence, she identified and cornered his three sisters in a hotel in Sevilla, introducing herself as someone special to their brother. With smiles and grins plastered to their faces, they began poking and prodding their brother about this mystery girl.
But as all things do, their study abroad program ended and they said their goodbyes with tears in their eyes as they left Sevilla, knowing that in all likelihood, they would not see each other again.
Spoiler alert! This is the tale of Khrista and I. Fast forward ten years after that fateful goodbye in Sevilla, and we found ourselves on the alter of Saint Monica’s church in Santa Monica, CA saying “I do.”
And after eleven months of Alex’s threats of a firing if I didn’t take my honeymoon (kidding), we decided to go back where it all started: Sevilla, Spain. I’d love to share a few of the highlights:
