Handling the details of an overseas wedding ceremony is no small task to be sure, owing to the complexities of foreign laws, residency requirements, civil versus religious services and, most importantly, ensuring that the couple's union will be recognized by their home country upon their return.

Such conundrums were something my husband Mark and I discovered firsthand when we decided to exchange our wedding vows in one of Scotland's most breathtaking fortresses - Stirling Castle. Not only was our chosen date subject to multiple revisions - including an instance involving Her Majesty the Queen - but yours truly nearly caused an international incident at the altar by not being quite as submissive as a certain Scottish minister would have preferred.

Despite the fact that my best friend is a Travel Agent and handled the logistics of getting us to the Highlands with our wits still intact, there were times I had every expectation we'd end up saying "I do" in the gift shop or out on the parking lot. Though I wouldn't trade our magical experience for anything in the world, we came away from it with insights worth divulging to similarly-minded romantics.

DIFFERENT COUNTRIES/DIFFERENT RULES

There's much to be said for tying the knot on foreign shores - the excitement, the glamour, the mystique! Not to mention that the expense of providing food, champagne, and several hours worth of dancing for 300 people at a pricey hotel or country club has inspired many couples to seek less costly arrangements. For the two of us - both previously married and in our 40's - the glitz and fanfare of a traditional wedding and reception was less important than the opportunity to spend an extended amount of time together at our honeymoon destination.

That such destination would be Scotland was never in question. Not only did my betrothed have Scottish ancestry (the clan Keith) but I'd fallen in love with the country four years earlier while researching a novel I was writing called The Spellbox. Though our itinerary was not without obstacle, Scotland holds a certain advantage over other countries as a wedding venue.

Consider, for instance:

• France requires 42 days residency, a medical exam for both partners conducted by a French doctor, and a certificate of celibacy. In addition, France does not recognize religious marriage ceremonies unless the couple has had a civil ceremony first at a French city hall.
• In Spain, a notice of intent (similar to banns) must be posted on the consular notice board for 21 days in advance in case anyone cares to object. The ceremony itself must also be performed in Spanish even if the entire wedding party doesn't understand a word of it.
• Kenya calls for three weeks residency unless a special permit has been procured from the Registrar General in Nairobi.
• For weddings in Thailand, an affidavit and prior registration with one's home embassy are required.
• Japanese law specifies that all weddings must occur in a city office or local ward. A separate church or temple service can take place later but only if the signed certificate is presented.

Unless you're pretty intrepid, or have friends or relatives in your country of choice who can do the research and submit applications on your behalf, it's well worth the cost of retaining a solicitor who practices where you want to marry, investing in a guidebook on foreign weddings, or hiring a bridal consultant who specializes in this area. Travel agents can often assist in gathering together some of the local addresses, telephone numbers and contacts you will need.

Our agent found for us the the General Register Office for Scotland to bring us up to speed on the necessary legal requirements. Most countries have a travel/tourism/census authority online that provides comprehensive information on current laws, regulations and restrictions related to getting married, along with many other topics.

Although my husband is an accomplished attorney, he nonetheless blanched at the prospect of navigating another country's bureaucratic waters, especially since we were both required to produce notarized and certified documentation (the latter bearing embossed seals) that deemed us legally eligible to re-wed. With everything else we had to stress about as the date drew near, the last thing we wanted was to travel 6,000 miles only to realize upon arrival we'd left some of the essential papers back home.

To that end, he used the Internet to locate and retain a spunky Scottish solicitor named Fiona to manage the details. "Odd," she quipped on the first day with her rapid-fire Scottish brogue, "but tis usually the back end o' marriage we be handlin' 'n' not the beginnin'."

Vows that are going to be exchanged before a county magistrate, she informed us, are generally easier to arrange than those requiring a church blessing. While the Scots are happy to perform either one, there are varying permits and fees required depending on whether the ceremony will be held in a public setting or a private home. Likewise, some clergy members can only be retained if the service is in a church (preferably their own).

Again, the benefit of having someone onsite to make inquiries saved us a lot in terms of time, postage and long-distance calls.

KEEP THOSE ERASERS HANDY!

One of the perks of having a small wedding party and taking them with you is that it's easy to keep them in the loop regarding scheduling changes. That our travel agent was handling everyone's tickets and hotel reservations was another plus, especially since the date was changed on us no less than 11 times in 6 weeks.

While Scotland has no residency requirements, the downside is that if you're getting married at a castle, you're at the mercy of whomever owns it. In our case, it was no less than the Scottish government. Since our trip was planned during the winter off-season when the absence of tourists and locals typically spells an economic slump, the powers-that-be recognized an opportunity to not only tweak with our timeframe but inflate their prices as well.

A month before our departure, for instance, we were informed the Queen was planning a visit to inspect the Highland regiment and, accordingly, Stirling Castle was not available for private functions.

"Goodness," I remarked, "it's not like we couldn't invite her."

A different castle, of course, might be procured for a "slightly higher sum" if we wanted to keep that specific slot.

We asked instead for the next available opening.

A week after penning the new date, we were told the staff was conducting a tour for Japanese golfers that same afternoon, and we'd been rescheduled, without our consent, for the following Sunday.

Four days later, yet another message arrived. Not only had our Sunday nuptials been moved up to Saturday morning but could we please "get on with it" by 10 since they wanted to close at noon.

Understandably, our optimism was wearing thin. Even the reps at Virgin Atlantic joked with my best friend that they'd started a pool. For $1 a square, I might have joined it myself.

We resolved to stay positive and hired a driver who would collect us at the hotel and take us to Stirling. We'd say our vows in the same chapel where Mary was crowned Queen of Scots in the 16th century. After taking lots of photographs, we'd hop back into the limo and go off to a bridal lunch.

It seemed like such a simple plan.

Two weeks before our departure, the Stirling officials called to ask what sort of catering we wanted for our reception.

"We're taking everyone out for a wedding lunch," we explained.

Apparently this was not the right answer.

We were informed we couldn't have our wedding in the chapel unless we had our reception in Stirling's Great Hall. Given the hall's mammoth size, we thought this an odd directive; with only nine people in our party, we could easily have all stood in one of its fireplaces and not felt crowded.

Out of curiosity, we asked what the reception would cost. The answer translated to around $2,000 U.S. dollars. And this, mind you, was only for the privilege of reserving the room. No food. No beverage. No bagpipers. Not even napkins with our names printed on them.

"What if we just bring a bottle of champagne and a can of cashews to pass around?" Mark teased.

We discovered they had no sense of whimsy.

"Y' best not be bringin' outside goods," they curtly warned him.

They further advised that the minimum order for canapés and fruit punch was 50 guests at a starting price of £15 per person. Either our friends would have to bring hearty appetites, we mused, or we were about to make 41 total strangers very happy by inviting them to come in and celebrate with us.

Such tactics, of course, aren't uncommon. Due to the popularity of these historic settings, hosting cities have embraced the practice of insisting their own staff provide all needed services, including photographers, florists, and wedding cakes. The fact they know you're already committed to the event (and presumably have non-refundable tickets) gives them a lot of leverage. Thus, it's prudent to inquire at the start what your contractual agreement includes, or else have additional funds on hand for last-minute surprises.

Fortunately, we had Fiona in our corner. Oh, to have been a fly on the wall when she "had words" with the castle officials regarding the hurdles they kept throwing in our path.

"They'll not be causin' y' any more grief," she announced.

CUE THE MINISTER

Fiona was also responsible for finding the minister who would perform the ceremony for us. For fans of old movies, the name Donald Crisp should be familiar.

"Does this guy remind you of someone?" Mark whispered when we were introduced to him.

"Yes," I replied without hesitation. "Donald Crisp."

Indeed if you were to send to Central Casting for an elder, white-haired Scotsman, this is the guy you'd get.

Since we didn't have a complicated agenda, we arranged to meet him the day before the ceremony for a brief rehearsal. With my best friend standing in for me, I instructed him to "just do the standard vows." What I didn't realize is that his version included the bride's words "obey."

"Couldn't we substitute 'cherish'?" I asked. I even suggested I'd be perfectly happy to say "obey" if Mark said "obey," too.

"But he's the man!" the minister archly insisted. I'm pretty sure he would have liked to tell my groom to run for his life at that point.

Suffice it to say, he grudgingly bit his tongue the following day and only had me swear "to love and honor." He also ducked out before we had the official photographs, not wanting to be associated with such a feisty lass as myself.

FINAL NOTE

As wonderful a memory as we made that day, the lawyerly side of Mark's brain observed in retrospect that the amount of stress it imposed was probably matched only by the blind faith we possessed that nothing dire would happen to us en route. Sadly, the world has become a much more troubled place than it was when we said "I do" nine years ago - especially insofar as terrorist threats to air and rail transportation. That said, we've advised friends who are considering the same route to consider a "pre-wedding" as an option.

There's sound reasoning behind the concept of marrying in one's home country first, then using the trip for photo ops. Why? In the absence of marriage - or a will - a surviving fiancé could be displaced by the deceased's next of kin. The knowledge you're already married has the added benefit of removing the anxiety of last minute paperwork, unforeseen expenses and inclement weather.

This gets back, of course, to one of the reasons you may be opting for an overseas wedding to begin with; specifically, to share the moment with only a select group of globetrotting well-wishers. While there's nothing wrong with your fellow travelers being in on the secret, there's also nothing wrong with using your two most trusted friends as witnesses at a courthouse civil ceremony and leaving everyone else blissfully none the wiser.