Our story
Three chapters, one very long queue, and a proposal that got rained on.
Four chapters now. The last one is the day itself.
Read itWelcome back,
Until they are married
Since they were married
—Days
—Hrs
—Min
—Sec
ようこそ
The morning after. . The whole site has turned over, and it stays here.
One year today. , days married. Tonight the umeshu jar opens on the terrace.
Five years today. , days married. The fifth-year letters in the capsule are open.
Thank you, by name
Thank you, .Thank you, all of you.
This is what you left with us. We are keeping every line of it.
Every reply and every plaque is kept on this site. To see your own here, go back to before the wedding, send the short reply on the reply page, and come back.
- Your reply
- On the wall
- Your guesses
- In the time capsule
- Getting there
- El Nido, Palawan
- Dressing for sand
- Beach formal
- The last date
- 1 March 2027
Fly to Lio, ten minutes from the door. Every leg is timed on the travel page.
Sakura and sumi-ink tones, linen and silk — and flat shoes, because the aisle is sand.
One code covers everyone invited under your name.
- Married
- On the sand
- Kept
- — plaques
- Danced
- Under the lanterns
At 3:52 PM, after three cups and one gust of wind.
Every photograph and message you hung on the wall.
Last song at eleven · the last of you home at one, along the beach.
The invitation
From the two of us
Six years, one ceramic rabbit, one Saturday
A hanami by the sea — a Japanese garden wedding on Philippine sand, and you are asked to it.
Six years ago they queued forty minutes for the same small ceramic rabbit. On the seventeenth of April they would like to stand on some sand in front of the people who have heard that story too many times.
Thank you for crossing a sea for one Saturday.
Thank you, . Six years ago we queued forty minutes for the same small ceramic rabbit. On the seventeenth of April we stood on some sand in front of the people who have heard that story too many times, and you heard it once more, in the toasts.
The ceremony begins at half past three, on the beach, in the shade of the pavilion. Dinner is forty steps up under the lanterns. Between them is the best hour of light El Nido has, which is the whole reason for April.
The photographs are on this site now, beside every plaque you hung on the wall. We are keeping all of it here, at the address the invitation was at.
Hana & Kenji
The day
The aisle was sand,
and that was the point
Three cups, nine sips, and a gust of wind that took the first pour. Everybody laughed, which was a better start than the solemn one we rehearsed.
The pause before Kenji answered was three seconds, on the recording. Nobody has admitted to timing it.
The pavilion, half past three
The day
The aisle is sand,
and that is the point
One property, two heights: the ceremony on the sand and dinner forty steps up. Nobody drives anywhere after three o'clock.
Please be seated by 3:20. No assigned seats — sit anywhere you can see from. Cold towels and calamansi-yuzu coolers from three o'clock.
The pavilion, before anyone arrives
Hour by hour
The day,
as it happened
-
3:00 PM
You arrived
Cold towels, calamansi-yuzu, and the first selfie on the sand by five past.
Posted from the sand by Mika R. -
3:30 PM
The walk down the sand
Barefoot, as promised. The wind took her sleeves and nothing else.
From the last row of chairs -
3:45 PM
Three cups
Nine sips. The wind took the first pour, and both mothers watched every one that followed.
San-san-kudō, at the low table -
4:10 PM
Just married
A few minutes after, on the sand, both of them laughing at something nobody else heard.
A few minutes after -
5:30 PM
The last of the light
We slipped off to watch the sun go. We were seen.
Posted from the long table by Yumi K. -
6:30 PM
Kanpai, and dinner
Forty steps up, every lantern on at once, and the long table full end to end.
The lantern garden -
9:00 PM
Senkō hanabi
The small sparklers on the sand. Lucia, aged nine, held hers for forty-one seconds and has the photograph to prove it.
On the sand below the terrace -
10:15 PM
The toast nobody staged
Somewhere past ten, a glass up at the end of the table, and nobody remembers who started it.
The end of the long table -
11:00 PM
The last song
Then the lanterns went out one at a time.
The garden, after -
1:00 AM
Along the beach
The last of you walked home along the beach, shoes in hand. So did we.
The tideline, past one -
The next morning
The morning after
The cups washed, the gown on the balcony rail, and sand in absolutely everything.
The balcony, the morning after
The day in numbers
- Sips, from three cups
- 9
- Gusts of wind, one of them memorable
- 1
- Steps up from the sand to dinner
- 40
- Seconds Lucia held her sparkler
- 41
- Drops of rain
- 0
- Umbrellas brought from Kyoto anyway
- 1
- Plaques kept from your phones
- —
- In the morning, the last of you home
- 1:00
What to wearWhat everyone wore
Beach formal,
in sakura and sumi
Linen, silk, and kimono-inspired pieces warmly welcome. The one hard rule is footwear: the aisle is sand and the steps to dinner are stone.
As asked: linen, silk and blossom tones, and almost nobody in shoes after four. Photographed by you, on your phones.
- Blossom
- Cherry
- Rice paper
- Matcha
- Sumi ink
Shoes
- Flat, or a low block heel. Stilettos have lost here before.
- Plenty of people go barefoot after the ceremony. Nobody minds.
After dark
- Bring something light for your shoulders — the terrace cools once the sun is down.
- April in Palawan is warm and humid. Linen is your friend.
On gifts
Come, eat, stay lateYou came, you ate, you stayed late
That was the gift we asked for, and most of you gave it until one in the morning.
Every envelope from the table by the steps reached us. We are writing to each of you by hand, which is taking longer than the wedding did. If yours has not arrived, it is on its way.
There is no registry and nothing to click. Most of you are crossing a sea to get here, which is already more than they would have asked for.
If you would like to give something anyway — and both families generally would — an envelope on the day is the kindest form. There will be a table for them by the steps.
If you would rather not, please do not. Take the second dessert and stay for the last song.
After dark
Lanterns, long tables,
and no cars
Dinner is one terrace above the beach and open to the sky. Nothing after the ceremony needs a car, or shoes.
Dinner was one terrace above the beach and open to the sky. Nothing after the ceremony needed a car, and by nine nobody had shoes on.
The lantern garden, one terrace above the beach
Draw a fortuneA fortune for the first year
One slip,
and it is yours
There will be a real box of these by the gift table. This one works the same way — you draw once, the paper remembers, and a fortune you would rather not carry home can be tied and left behind. Once.
The box from the gift table came home with us, refilled. These are for the first year. Draw once; the paper remembers, and the one you drew on the day is still yours too.
Place your guessesDid it come true?
Four things
the day will settleFour things
the day settled
Choose one answer for each. The tallies are everyone’s so far, yours included. The morning after, this page says who called it.
Your guesses are marked, and the answers are in. You called 0 of 0.
Asked alreadyAsked since
Ten questions,
with real answersQuestions
after
If yours is not here, put it in the message box when you reply.
What you have asked since. If yours is not here, write to either of us.
Where are the photographs?
Here. The day hour by hour is above, the last chapter of Our story is the day itself, and every plaque you hung is in the guestbook. The photographer’s album follows by email.
Can I get my photograph in full size?
Choose any photograph and it opens full size. On a live Wedsite the couple can send you the original of anything in the guestbook, yours included.
Can I still hang a plaque?
The wall closed at midnight on the day and nothing new goes up. Everything that was hung is kept. If you find one you forgot to send, send it to either of us.
Did my envelope arrive?
Every one, from the table by the steps. Thank-you cards are handwritten and leaving a few at a time.
Will there be an anniversary?
A year on, the same terrace, the same lanterns. You are all asked. Travel & Japan has the route again, told for next April.
Can we bring the children?
Yes — and several are already coming. There is a nine-year-old on the guest list who intends to hold a sparkler longer than anyone else.
Tell us how many and how old in your RSVP and there will be a chair and a smaller bowl.
What time does it actually end?
The last song is at eleven. In practice the terrace empties around one, slowly, along the beach, with everyone carrying their shoes.
How early should we get to El Nido?
The day before at the very latest. Ideally three days — the flights into Lio are small and weather-cancelled more often than anyone would like, and there is nowhere better to be stuck.
Is there a dress code we should worry about?
Beach formal in sakura and sumi-ink tones. Linen, silk and kimono-inspired pieces are all welcome. The one real rule is shoes: the aisle is sand.
We are vegetarian / allergic / both.
Say so once, in your RSVP, per person — there is a field for it on each name. It reaches the kitchen and you will not be asked again on the day.
Do we need to know anything about the Japanese parts?
No. The Travel & Japan page explains san-san-kudō and the sparklers in four short entries, which is more than enough.
Is there a registry?
No. There will be a table for envelopes by the steps if you would like, and genuinely no expectation of one.
Can we swim?
Yes, and people will. The water is twenty steps from the ceremony. Perhaps not between three and four o'clock.
What about the weather?
April is dry season and hot — low thirties, humid. The ceremony is in the shade of the pavilion and dinner is open to the sky. Rain in April would be unusual and not a disaster.
Is any of this real?
No. Hana and Kenji are invented, Casa Marikit is invented, and this is a design study built by Wedsite Studios to show what a real wedding site does. El Nido and the flights are real, because getting the boring parts right is most of the point.
Kindly replyFrom your phones
Just tell us
if you can comeEverything
you posted
One short form: your name, yes or no, and how many are coming with you. No code to find and nothing to look up — and you can change your answer any time before the first of March.
Every plaque you hung on the wall at the reception, kept here.
Your post
Travel & JapanCome back
Every leg to El Nido honestly timed, what to book and when, and the words you will hear on the day.
The same route, told for next April. The anniversary is on the same terrace.
Plan the trip