Me - in front of the church, San Domenico.

Thankfully it's only paper confetti and not rice or pasta that's being thrown at us. In Italy, they have a tradition of throwing rice and pasta, but with the help of some Americans and an Australian friend, I was spared the torture of this old-age tradition.

Walking towards a fantastic, charming family restaurant
"Poveraccio" in Centro Storico.

Receiving a wonderful hug from my husband!

Wonder, wonder, wonder..........

Standing in front of the restaurant, Poverracio, wondering if I can stand to put my shoes back on and walk to our next destination.

Oh, my poor tired, very sore and bruised feet.

No, they are not my bridesmaids. They are local
women that heard the festivities and came out from
their nearby homes curious about our
wedding party.

How on earth did I get blood on my "ring finger"? Even the priest couldn't help but notice and asked me during the ceremony. "What happened to your finger?" I had hurt my ring finger trying to close one of the doors in our home just before we left for the church. Luckily I didn't get any blood on my dress. I had to change the first bandage as it was soaked with blood, so I put two more bandages on for good measure. The only problem was it took a while for my fiance to get my ring on. Some would think it's bad luck to hurt your wedding ring finger on the day, but for me, it was the luckiest omen "ever".

We walked to a popular gelateria near the piazza and then stopped for a while on a bench in the "villa".
We were deliriously happy and a bit drunk, some more so than others; even my mother who never drinks had a few glasses of wine and spumante.

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