Weddings

I really believe weddings are such a rich cultural experience. I have now been to three, though I can only tell you the name of one bride. At the first one I committed the offense of wearing a black and white dress. I was quickly and repeatedly informed that these colors were reserved for funerals. I learned my lesson and was more appropriately dressed for the second one. This took place in the province, and was probably the best experience. I traveled to the country with four of the teachers at the school, and they were really excited to feed me a breakfast of spiders and lotus nuts on the way. I knew we had arrived when I spotted the large pink and yellow striped tent. Almost every wedding is held in the same kind of tent, and they are set up anywhere they can find space… dirt lots, gas stations, the middle of the street. This one was in front of their house, covering tables, chairs, and a wall of about eighteen speakers. I recently learned that the music is not necessarily for the enjoyment of the wedding party and guests, but to announce to everyone within a ten kilometer radius that there is a wedding celebration. While everyone else endures ruptured eardrums. The bride was the sister of a teacher at the school, so we had VIP access to the house, which was nice. We climbed the stairs, changed our clothes, and ate fruit in a cozy little circle on the floor. I loved it. I was only there for a few seconds when my friend grabbed me and pointed to the pink envelope I brought. It was a gift for the bride and groom, though I didn’t know the appropriate time or place to present it. Well, now. She took me by the hand and led me through the back of the tent. The bride and groom were seated on the floor of a stage, the wedding party arranged beautifully behind them. Khmer music was blaring, and there was a constant rhythm of drums. My friend gave me instructions in Khmer and left me in a small line to the right of the stage, nudging me forward as she turned back to the house. There were many guests seated in front of the couple, and a photographer was snapping pictures as people presented their gifts. I panicked. I hadn’t seen this before, didn’t even know the names of the bride and groom, and suddenly I was at the front of the line. Some girl took pity on me, and led me to the stage. We knelt before the couple, and I imitated the girl’s actions, lifting pressed palms in front of my face after setting my folded envelope on the silk pillow. I was suppressing laughter, my natural reaction to uncomfortable situations. I realized, while I was posed on the stage, that I had forgotten to take off my shoes. Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced at every foot… shoeless. I’m sure I was only there for about 30 seconds, but it felt like a good twenty minutes. I searched for a familiar face or SOMEONE who would give me direction. Everyone just sat there with pasted smiles. So I got up escorted my size twelve sandals out of the tent, sweating bullets.
The third wedding presented an opportunity to sport my new Khmer attire. It was a long process to get things straight, but it was a hit among the teaching staff. A teacher’s wife is a tailor, so she was at the school one day to take orders. All of the women were flipping through magazines, cooing over the latest fashions. They all looked the same to me, and we concurred that the sheets of fabric would only make it to the middle of my shin anyway. I therefore decided to get a skirt with strips of traditional fabric sewn together – Khmer style with a twist. I selected four colors of fabric and hoped for the best. Well, it was my good fortune to have four different skirts made – one from each kind of fabric. I laughed, but said thank you, appreciating my many options. One of the teachers knew this was not the right idea, so demanded that I hand them back for correction and told the woman they were too big for me anyway. A week later, the skirt came back. Yes, it was very colorful and very tight and I was informed that the fabric I selected was ragged. I looked like a mermaid, and was afraid that if I sat down or bent over, the whole thing would burst into polyester and silk confetti. So it went back again for adjustments. The third time was a success, but then had the challenge of finding a top to work with an earth tone rainbow. I embraced the white puffy sleeves and ruffles and called it a match. Oh so Khmer. I decided to forego the hair and make-up and fake eyelashes, but I felt more culturally sensitive with my circus tent and big white bow.