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      Vivian and Carlos on the day of their engagement. Managua, Nicaragua, 1975.

      In fact, our long-distance relationship worked quite well. I used the phone and Carlos was on his radio. However, it wasn’t easy to speak freely with this technology, because I would say, for example, “Carlos, I love you very much, over and out”. . . and anyone could hear the conversation. So, we had to develop a private code to achieve the desired communication. Mine was: “Two happy hearts” and his was: “Potato Charlie, a broken heart.”

      We set the month of our wedding for September of the following year. Carlos had to finish his master’s degree, and at the end of it work for two months in a bank in the United States to gain more knowledge as a Finance major. My mom and I spent that time preparing the wedding. After his two months of work at the bank were over, Carlos decided to return from San Francisco to Nicaragua by land. He did so in the company of his brother Alfredo. A trip that should have taken a week ended up taking a month and a half. I was upset because I wanted him to be with me to decide certain details of the wedding. He showed up in August with a big smile on his face, one month before the wedding, claiming that this trip was his “bachelor’s party.”

      During his last vacation in December 1975, he had given me the engagement ring at home, in front of my parents, my grandparents, and his parents.

      My family was delighted. Their beloved daughter was getting married.

      VVivian and Carlos on their wedding day. Managua, Nicaragua, September 4, 1976.

Happiness Knocks at My Door

      Carlos came into my life to stay. Without realizing it, he became part of my very being. He was more than I could have ever imagined. He was my dream, but he also represented my longing for freedom. His presence filled me completely. His enormous intelligence and personality always captivated others, and I was no exception.

      Love was also a form of independence. Carlos transmitted his confidence to me, and I started to have more confidence in myself. And with him, I learned to say “No” . . . well, at least . . . sometimes!

      The five years of our long-distance relationship ignited the flames of a love that has not yet been extinguished. I totally fell in love with him, with that pure and true love. He, as a person, filled my spaces. My father taught us that people should be appreciated for their true value, meaning for what they were, and not for what they had. Without a doubt, in addition to the way my exile from Cuba marked me, that lesson put my feet on the ground. I could have had nothing, but my morale was always high in that regard. My parents related to people for what they were and not for what they had. I married Carlos for love.

      Vivian and Carlos on their wedding day. Managua, Nicaragua, 1976.

      To my parents, Carlos was a son who filled, to a large extent, the void that my brother Alejandro had left.

      The wedding at the Church of San Francisco was organized by my parents and some details were agreed upon with Doña Nena, my mother-in-law. Carlos had chosen his godparents and I had chosen mine. However, following protocol, our main godparents had to be President Anastasio Somoza and his wife Doña Hope Portocarrero Debayle. For Carlos’s family, this was a bitter pill to swallow. This was particularly true for his father, Alfredo Pellas, since he was part of the opposition. My father had previously spoken to him to explain he had invited the president as a token of gratitude for the decent treatment he had given Cuban exiles. Alfredo Pellas, who was ever a gentleman, answered: “Pepe, whatever you want is fine.”

      Vivian and Carlos on their wedding day at the Church of San Francisco. Managua, Nicaragua, 1976.

      Vivian and Carlos with their parents. Managua, Nicaragua, 1976.

      We enjoyed the party until 5:30 a.m., breaking the tradition of the bride and groom leaving the gathering at one in the morning. The next day we flew to Miami, and two days later, we were off to Europe.

      Our destination airport was Madrid, and later Portugal by train, where we looked for a huge Volvo that Carlos’s father leased to buy in Lisbon. We used it during the month of our honeymoon travels and, after that, he sold it from Nicaragua at the same price he paid for it, like any good businessman. It was a very comfortable trip because we didn’t have to move around in trains with the hassle of loading suitcases in terminals or using taxis everywhere we went. We traveled on a low budget and made the most of it.

      Carlos Pellas and his father-in-law, José Fernández. Miami, Florida, 1982.

      Rome was fun. However, it was difficult to drive through its narrow and very strange one-way streets. This was despite the fact that the main attractions were the narrow streets with small neighborhood shops, which gave the Italian capital that special charm and made it ideal for walking.

      We would spend three or four days in one place. If we got bored, we would go to another one. We arrived in Nice with great enthusiasm, thinking that we would be there for about five days, but we stumbled upon the harsh reality of the stones on the beaches. Our biggest surprise was to see the people lying on top of them. Of all the places we visited, this was a disappointment, considering its reputation as the most romantic place in the world. There was nothing charming about it. At that moment, we missed our beach at San Juan del Sur.

      We stayed in Nice for only three hours and left for Saint-Tropez, a wonderful place. This is a French town and commune in the department of Var, in the region of Provence, one of the most important tourist centers on the French Riviera.

      Everything was spectacular, but we were returning to our reality. It was an unforgettable trip. Our honeymoon filled us with the energy we needed to start a new life together.

      Once

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