A wedding party in Bolivia.

It seemed that as official photographer I was also expected to attend the "reception" afterwards which promised to be an interesting affair. We piled in the back of Hermano Andres' pickup and after a short ride into the gathering gloom arrived at the outskirts of the nieghbouring village of Agua Blanca. It was by now pitch black, we stumbled through the steep and narrow muddy streets on the heels of Hermano Andres.

There seemed to be only one level area in the village, a tarpaulin had been rigged against the recent heavy rain. Lights too had been rigged, together with pink balloons, tastefully draped with toilet paper. The bride and groom were ensconced on a dais together with a large wedding cake. A sound system, large even by Bolivian standards blasted the latest Brazilian pop music rendering half the area out of bounds to Gringos. Dozens of female guests in traditional dress, including the local "pork pie" hat, sat upon rows of folding chairs clutching paper cups. Buckets of chicha (maize beer) were passed into this mass of humanity to quickly be passed out again empty. Our arrival caused a great stir, though strangely not a head moved, not an eye blinked but we were observed. Everyone looked suitably solemn.

It being due time for festivities to commence the bride and groom still in their wedding attire danced with various person (I wot not whom). They were pretty wild and exhausting dances, there were regular pauses for refreshment. The surface of the street was earth, as the night progressed this was churned into mud at least six inches deep. The happy pair did not let this deter them in the least, the bridegrooms natty suit and shiny shoes soon became encrusted in the mud. His new wife fared a little better in her short traditional dress. When the dancing partners had been exhausted (in both senses) the Happy Pair resumed their seat on the dais.

We meanwhile had been partaking of the catering which consisted of a nourishing chicken broth and boiled potatoes. Hermano Andrés intimated to me that it was customary for guests to approach the dais and wish the couple luck and that monetary gifts could be placed in the groom's top pocket. Not averse to this, I enquired what might be a suitable sum, he shrugged "Was du wilst" (What you like) was his reply. This left me in a quandary. In the end I got out a note to the value of £20 ($30) and performed the expected duty as far as my limited Spanish would allow. As I left the dais the groom had a crafty look at my donation and nearly fell off his seat, I had clearly erred on the side of generosity. Well I do like to spread a little happiness and goodwill.