reclaiming wife

Posts Tagged ‘International Wedding’

Planning: Journeys

I know we said a few weeks ago that Elisabeth’s Wedding Grad post would be our last intern grad post for the year, but, well, we lied. Because this week Zen surprised us with a second grad post—this time on her and Cephas’ Malaysian wedding. And I couldn’t be more thrilled. Because secretly, this was the post I’ve been waiting for. (I don’t know about you, but all of Zen’s posts chronicling the mayhem of planning her Malaysian wedding have left me in stitches.) We talk about this a lot here on APW, but Zen’s post reminded me that no two weddings—not even for the same couple—are ever the same. And in the end, this is a very good thing. Because it means that there is no right way to have your wedding, no magical formula to making it the best day ever. So today, as you read Zen’s post, take solace in the fact that the path you’ve chosen is going to be the right one, if only because it’s the one you chose.

—Maddie for Maternity Leave

The pictures we got from our Malaysian wedding are kind of a mess. They’re not carefully composed. The lighting is all over the place. Some of them are blurry. They’re of people moving, milling, talking, eating, drinking, yelling, dancing, running around trying to restrain their tiny offspring. The pictures are like those old Chinese and Indian scroll paintings where everything is happening at once and you don’t know where to look. There is no one focal point.

The way they look is how the wedding felt: chaotic, leisurely, expansive, and warm. It’s a bit of a cliché to say that the Western wedding was about us as a couple and the Asian wedding was about our—well, mostly my—family, but that’s what it felt like. The Malaysian wedding wasn’t terribly romantic—it didn’t particularly feel like a celebration of us and our deathless love. But it felt like coming home. The English wedding had been marvellously, sweetly out of the ordinary course of things; our brief honeymoon in Italy had sustained that sense of being taken out of our everyday lives. The Malaysian wedding was something else.

Cephas, of course, will have felt differently—but for me, getting married at home was what I needed to take me back to reality. It made our marriage real, because it embedded it in the context of my—now our—family.

If the English wedding was a process of focusing in, of centering us and placing us before the altar and enclosing us in a promise between the two of us, the Malaysian wedding was about us stepping out of the focus, pulling back, and seeing where we stood in the pattern made by our family.

So I don’t remember tender moments between me and Cephas at the Malaysian wedding. I remember everyone else. There was my four-year-old cousin who, as the only boy child present, was taken by hand by his father to the bridal suite, promised the rare delight of getting to jump on the bed. (You will recall that this is arranged so that the married couple will have many sons.) He went along cheerfully until he realised that he was being followed by about twenty uncles and aunties wielding cameras, when he baulked.

“Come, boy, don’t you want to jump on the bed?” coaxed his dad.

“Don’t want this bed,” said my cousin, trying to make a speedy exit from the bridal suite. “Want another bed!”

Whereupon my aunt picked him up bodily and dropped him on the bed—but not before another four-year-old cousin, a little girl not remotely afraid of the limelight, had hurled herself onto the bed and starting bouncing, screeching with delight.

There was my mom, who plunged into wedding planning with typical intensity, standing over my aunts with a whip while they made a million fabric loofahs to decorate our house with. She also developed a psychosomatic cough from the stress, and went around rasping about floral arrangements. “Oh Mom, I feel so bad that you’re stressed because of the wedding,” I ventured. “No!” said my mom, coughing. “I’m really happy! I’m coughing because I’m so happy!” Continue reading Wedding Graduates: Zen & Cephas, Part II

It’s been a long while since we had a self-catered wedding here at APW (which if you’re considering catering your own wedding, we’ve got helpful tips for making it happen here and here). So I’m thrilled to have Amanda and Shaun here today to tell the story of how they made all the food for their own wedding, and how doing so ended up meaning so much more to them than they expected. But the thing is, what I appreciate most about Amanda and Shaun’s post isn’t that they took on the daunting task of catering their own wedding (though, to be clear, I think that is seriously rad). It’s that they did it because it was a path that felt authentic to them. Because while self-catering is certainly not for everyone (I mean, I can barely make spaghetti), shutting down the noise that says your wedding has to be the same as everyone else’s or the most different thing ever and instead saying, “Here’s what we’re doing because it feels right for us,” now that is something I can get behind.

—Maddie for Maternity Leave

Shaun and I were married almost two years ago in Toronto. The morning of our wedding, we awoke to find that what was promised to be a light dusting of flurries had instead been replaced with six inches of snow. While we ran last-minute errands and worried about our guests, my grandmother assured my mom that since I had always loved winter, it was the perfect day for our wedding. Shaun and I got engaged the previous August, and I—in that romanticizing of winter which can only be convincing at the end of a hot summer—had pictured just such a day.

What neither of us anticipated back in August was how many expectations and frustrations we would encounter along the way to January and marriage. We weren’t trying to be subversive, but we quickly discovered that in the world of weddings w-o-r-k was the dirtiest four-letter word around. When we talked about our wedding plans, the most common reaction was, “Oh, but that sounds like a lot of work!” uttered with a tone that seemed to suggest, “Oh, but you must be really poor!” Apparently, the only work we were supposed to do was endlessly research and agonize over everything, and then pay someone else to do it. We could have done this, had we wanted to, but we were too independent, thrifty, and particular. And besides, we had the slightly delusional conviction that we could do everything better ourselves—with help, that is.

Our decision to cook our wedding food drew different reactions: bewilderment, frustration, pity, indifference, and, thankfully, offers of help. Many times, people close to us tried to reason with us, and we seriously considered catering at several points. At times, cooking for about eighty people seemed like an insane task. Several months before the wedding, crazed from indecision, I actually e-mailed the lovely Marie-Ève, of APW self-catering fame, who reassured me that cooking for your own wedding was indeed possible.(Thank you, Marie-Ève).

For me, cooking food for a wedding was a long-standing fantasy. I thought of scenes from movies where families and friends were all sweaty and flour-coated in the kitchen (I watched Like Water for Chocolate several times in my formative years). I knew we were in for a lot of hard work, but this work was, in part, what I craved: a practical, grounded ritual of preparation to balance the awe-inducing realization that we were promising to be together for our lives. Continue reading Wedding Graduates: Amanda & Shaun

Planning: Journeys

Each week, as we’ve run our 2012 planning interns’ grad posts (you can read Zen and Madeline’s here and here, respectively), I’ve been eager to see how the weddings themselves turned out. Not so much the visual stuff (though to be clear, I was dying to see Elisabeth’s final choice of wedding outfit), but to see how the big emotional decisions played out. Because in wedding land, we often hear about the complicated decisions made during the wedding planning process (particularly when you’re planning a super long-distance intercultural wedding after having converted to Islam), and rarely hear whether or not those complicated things actually ended up being… important. Which is why I love that Elisabeth’s post explores it all—the unexpected highs and lows, and, perhaps most importantly, the things that were neither high nor low but still contributed to making the day uniquely theirs.

I should tell you now, I’ve spent a lot of time over the past month looking at my wedding photos. Not just because I look good (though I do look good), but because, as Zen pointed out in her grad post , they remind me of how good I felt. And man, did I feel good.

As I mentioned a few weeks ago, my wedding was the culmination of a weeklong marathon of family togetherness and intense partying. It included, among other things, the civil ceremony, which was my only opportunity to say western-style vows; a henna party where some of the ladies got together to gossip and get our hands painted by an insanely patient and talented henna artist; and a rehearsal dinner where my family had a chance to meet Amin’s extended family for the first time. It was a lot of fun—not only was it amazing finally getting to know Amin’s family, but it’s a rare week where my immediate family is together in the same place. To give you a taste, let me just say that the day after the wedding, my youngest sister flew to Iraq, my middle sister flew to DC, and my mom and dad flew to Philadelphia and Saudi Arabia, respectively. Loud family sing-alongs to “I’m Getting Married in the Morning” will long be one of my favorite wedding memories.

Amin and I had vacillated a lot on whether to have a big wedding or a really really small one. There wasn’t really a good in-between option for us, because his aunts/uncles/cousins number in the hundreds already, so either we left everybody out except immediate family, or we had a couple hundred people. We decided to have a big one for a couple of reasons, but surely one of the major reasons was my insistence that this would be one of my few opportunities to get all of our favorite people together in one place.

We had mixed results. We definitely succeeded in getting many (though not most—who knew flying to London during the Olympics would be expensive?) of our favorite people together, and since we did a rehearsal dinner, and a henna party, and a few other things in the week leading up, Amin and I actually got to spend a bit of time with them (though sometimes not together). But on the wedding day, we didn’t get a chance to speak to anyone more than superficially. Heck, we didn’t get a chance to eat. (I am actually gratified by this, because Amin had long been convinced he was going to get to sit down and have a nice long relaxed meal, and I had repeatedly told him that was a ridiculous fantasy and that we would spend the whole night walking around chatting with our guests. I do love to be right!) Our cheeks were sore from smiling by about the third minute in (you can kind of tell from the panicky look in our eyes in some of the pictures), and by the time we got in the car at the end of the night we were both so happy to finally be alone, and not to have to smile any more. Our caterers had packed us little boxes of leftovers to take to the hotel room (I cannot recommend this highly enough. Do this!) so we sat and had our real dinner together long after the party had ended and we had deconstructed my enormous hairdo, while in the background the Thames was lit up by fireworks in honor of the Paralympics Closing Ceremony. For me, this remains one of my most cherished memories of the night.

The reception, then, is something of a blur of smiling and hugging and shaking hands and taking pictures, but I expected that. I always prefer little groups to big ones, and my wedding was no different. When I think back, though, I am still suffused with joy, and I think what made it such an awesome day was less the grand sweep of the party, etc., and more the little snippets of memory and remembered emotion that still stick with me two months later, and I imagine will stick with me forever. Continue reading Wedding Graduates: Elisabeth & Amin

* Anna & Kevin * Photographer: Lillian & Leonard Weddings (APW Sponsors) * Soundtrack for reading: “Get Over It” by The Young Evils *

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* Szerdi, Classics Lecturer and Wedding Photographer & Andrew, Web Developer and Wedding Photographer * Photographer: Tyrone Bradley * Soundtrack for reading: “Mountains” by Biffy Clyro *

One sentence sum up of the wedding vibe: Love-filled inclusive holiday with a wedding thrown in for good measure.

Continue reading Wordless Wedding: Szerdi & Andrew

Planning: Journeys

Elisabeth is getting married, you guys! It’s finally here! Each month Elisabeth has been updating us on her pending intercultural transcontinental wedding, from her conversion to Islam to her frustrations with super, super long distance wedding planning. Just a few months ago she and Amin were choosing a date and venue and figuring out the perfect cross-cultural wedding outfit, and now they’re getting married! This weekend! And of course, in her last post before the wedding, Elisabeth has perfectly summarized what wedding planning is all about (with a heaping side of letting your community lift you up). So let’s all give a gigantic APW-style hurrah to Elisabeth and Amin as they head into their wedding weekend. Hugs and fist bumps all around.

A few weeks ago, I had my first wedding nightmare. It wasn’t so bad, actually. I was hanging out at the wedding, with my old college roommate, and about six hours in she turns to me and goes, “Hey, aren’t you going to, like, get ready or something?” And I look down, and I realize I’m in a lovely sundress that bears little to no resemblance to my wedding dress. And I realize that I haven’t arranged for anybody to do my hair or makeup. And I realize my dress came from Houston with my sister-in-law, only I can’t figure out how to work my phone to call her and find out if she has it or anything. So by the end of the dream, I find myself in a car, rolling down the highway, with a bunch of strangers, who I am asking to please help me figure out how to work my phone.

We’re definitely in the homestretch, now. Counting the days and whatnot. In fact… I no longer have to use all of my fingers to count the days. Sunday, here we come!

I’m beginning to feel a bit of the zen: the time is precariously short, and this thing will be what it will be. However, Amin and I are both juggling eighteen or twenty different things per day, and our phone conversations have become machine-like in their efficiency. At 5am he called with my tasks for the day. “Look at the agenda and send it back,” he says. “Alright,” I answer. “I’ll schedule it in between my haircut and the visit from my fourth grade teacher. Have it to me by 11:15.” We both hang up and go back to work. And no, I am no longer sleeping, thank you for asking.

Though I have no idea what to expect from the wedding itself, I already know what my favorite part of wedding planning has been, and it has little or nothing to do with Amin. Instead, it’s all about everyone else who has bent over backwards to make the day a success. Although Meg talks about the wonderful sense of community a wedding brings, and APW Wedding Graduates have written about similar feelings, I was skeptical. I knew going in that I didn’t have any supremely artistic relatives who could letterpress my invitations, my mom does not want to cater a 150-person party, and I am not besties with a great band who offered to step in and do the music. Nevertheless, and in totally unexpected ways, I seem to have accidentally tapped into an invisible network of awesome people ready to leap into action at a moment’s notice. Continue reading Elisabeth: Crossing Over