Bicycling and Marriage Proposals in a Foreign Land - 2012

I was bicycling randomly up the coast of Spain, heading toward France with no particular agenda. Every day brought new sights, new experiences, and new people to meet. One day I rode only a mile and three-quarters before stopping for the night. Another day I covered 62 miles. That’s the way I usually ride my bicycle, especially when I’m traveling solo. Most days for lunch, when the weather was nice, I would pick a restaurant with outdoor seating. That way I could park my bicycle right by my table and watch the local people go by while I ate and enjoyed the sunshine. One day I was eating at a table near a tree, with my bicycle parked right beside it. I was nearly finished with lunch when I noticed a group of eight or ten young women—upper teenagers or in their twenties—walking past. They were all talking at once, a cheerful chatter in Spanish. Because I speak very little Spanish, I noticed them but didn’t pay much attention. Soon they were gone. I was just about to set my fork down when suddenly, out of nowhere, all eight or ten of them appeared right in front of my table. The girl in the center started speaking to me in Spanish. I immediately put up my hands and said, “Stop, no español.” She looked at me and said, “Oh good,” then continued in English. “Will you… ah, will you…” She hesitated, turned around, and whispered to her friends. They huddled together for a moment. Then she turned back, looked me in the eyes, and asked, “Will you marry me?” I realized she was probably trying to win a bet or complete a dare from her friends. They were all giggling and clearly having fun, so I decided not to ruin the moment. I looked her up and down, then met her eyes and said, “Yes.” All the girls jumped up and down, screaming, yelling, and laughing with delight. The one who had proposed ran around the table next to me, and they all started taking pictures. I thought, This is just too much fun. After the photos, I casually said, “I’ll finish my bicycle ride and be back for the wedding.” When I looked up, they had already disappeared as quickly as they had arrived. I got back on my bicycle and headed up the road, laughing for at least the next ten miles. This is one of the wonderful things that happens when you travel solo by bicycle in foreign countries.1 The funniest part, though, is that for the rest of the trip, every time I passed a newspaper stand, I would glance at the front page. I almost expected to see my picture with a headline like: “Princess Maria of Andorra, Heir to $45 Billion, Heartbroken When Fiancé Fails to Show Up for Wedding.”