I wanted to get married here.
Can you picture it?
Hundreds of tea lights twinkling among the ruins. A gauzy white dress billowing in the wind. A long haired-hippy guitar player perched on the wall. The bride walking down the crumbling aisle, with the Strait of Gibraltar and Africa behind.
And the whole wall collapsing on my in-laws. I didn’t actually write that, did I?
Alas, the dream wedding did not take place. I was outmaneuvered by my in-laws and didn’t have any friends or family to back me up. At the time I lacked the language skills and immigration status required to get my way.
The main issue being, all the people who I didn’t invite, but who showed up anyway, wouldn’t walk the 200 meters.
That’s the only problem with going to El Faro. I always end up pissed off and with my lip turned up at a bunch of old people who I don’t even know.