Rostanga, that's in Sweden

After our beautiful sunset meal, precision Paul airport pickup and traipse across the bridge into Sweden, our little brigade of three quickly realised that a car was an excellent thing to have in reaching the wedding venue (and hotel right next door). We arrived in the pitch dark roughly an hour after we started and there was nothing around.

Rostanga (there's an umlat over the o and little o dot over the first a that my keyboard doesn't make)is a village of roughly 839 people, as of 2010. Lots could have happened in the last nine years, though I doubt it. The village is made famous, a term I use loosely, because there is an entrance to Soderasen National Park just in front of the hotel and guesthouse (where the wedding was held).

Shortly after Clare and Roland got engaged, they went walking in the area, fell in love with it and secured it as their venue shortly thereafter. I suppose when you're from the greater Stoke-on-Trent area and your future husband is Hungarian and you're both living in Sweden, it's as good a place as any.

To its credit, there was an ICA, the fabulous Swedish grocery store that Clare introduced us to last February. After a cursory walk of the town, to the church (a five minute walk up the road), past the school (four minutes) and the local cafe (1 minute away), we made our way to ICA for a peruse. Although tiny, it housed everything you could possibly want including our post-wedding pick a mix:

And fish in a tube:

After our riveting wander, we made our way to the church for the wedding. For the Hungarian speakers in the audience, the priest had his homily translated and written out. Clare looked stunning, so happy and only almost fell once. Gemma and I had a little happy cry.

And then we made the extraordinarily long 5-minute walk back to the reception, all decked out and ready for a party.

The reception was beautiful and so very Clare and Roland. The speeches were translated into two languages, the food was a buffet prepared by the family and the open bar included alcohol that was either bought at duty free or hauled over from Hungary in a very large truck.

After dinner and speeches, the Irish band, consisting of a Glaswegian singer/guitar player and a Swedish fiddler, begun their tunes. The first noise complaint was received at 9pm. At 10:30 we moved indoors and almost danced down the floor boards. Gemma saved her best moves for the wedding

 

As the night waned, the dancing got more drunken and Palinka (Hungarian moonshine) induced. Roland's granny made friends with everyone, including those who didn't speak her language and by the end of the night the pot of goulash made an appearance. It was epic.

Wishing Clare and Roland a lifetime of happiness!