Family Wedding -- Part II

At some point last winter or during the spring, plans for Li'l Bro and Bridie's wedding began firming up. It would be at Phil and Mili's – the civil ceremony in the formal seating area at the front and the feast on the spacious back lawn. Guests would be only immediate family and very few close friends. There would be no catering: decoration, food, and drink would all be taken care of 'in-house' – Sil would look to the tables and flowers, Mili would cook, Best Beloved was to provide champagne, and I was to make enough cheesecake for 'about thirty people'...

Every detail came under the microscope, was disected and discussed. “Do nothing without consulting us,” Li'l Bro and Bridie repeated, mantra-like. When Mili wanted to add pasticcio to the menu she was told firmly “We don't like it, we don't want it!”

Mili and Sil preparing vegetarian koupepia -- stuffed vine leaves.

“But the others...” she began.

“What others?” interrupted Lil Bro. “This is our wedding and we'll have what we want. I don't care about the others – there'll be plenty of other dishes for them to choose from.”

Ten days before the ceremony Bridie's family arrived from Belgium. Her father, mother, three sisters, and one sister's partner and child were to stay in a rented house not far from the village, and wanted to combine the wedding with a two-week holiday on the island. Five days before the ceremony we had a dinner on the lawn 'dress rehearsal' so that everyone could get acquainted before the big day. The food was wonderful, and Phil's skill at public relations ensured that nearly everyone was dancing before the evening ended. Our diverse families seemed to blend swimmingly – little Diego, Bridie's nephew, kicking a football around with Zenon and Leo and conversations in French, Spanish, Greek, and English erupting apace around the long tables on the grass.

The Day drew closer. Stress mounted. I steered pretty clear. I had my orders – cheesecake for thirty, and the photography. I stood by ready to help where needed, stocked up on Philadelphia cream cheese, checked that my camera batteries were charged, and watched the show. Although both Li'l Bro and Bridie had said that they would prefer no wedding gifts, I went by Lemba Pottery – source of all gifts for the last fifteen years – and picked out some nice stoneware for the Happy Couple.

On Tuesday, Bridie and I took ourselves off to the spa at the Columbia Beach Resort for an afternoon of relaxation, reflexology, and pedicure – a chance for some sisterly bonding and the perfect escape from last minute pre-nuptial stress. Tuesday evening I made the cheesecake, but “I had to do it in one big dish,” I told Li'l Bro and Bridie with trepidation. “People will have to scoop out their portions as I don't trust it not to fall apart, freestanding...” They assured me that scooping rather than neat separate slices would not be a problem. “It's family and best friends, Asproulla, they said. “No-one will care if the cheesecake's not in perfect slices...”

All was in place for Wednesday. Last minute spats about who was making what on the menu were smoothed over. I found smart, casual (clean and ironed!) clothes for the Little Ones, discouraged the Big Ones from wearing black, tried and rejected several sets of clothes myself – had to be smart, but not too restrictive for the photography, and arrived next door just as the first guests – lifelong friends of Li'l Bro drew up at the door.

Sil preparing the tables.

Phil preparing the souvla.

Phil greets Bridie's family.

 Right on time the ladies from the municipality arrived to conduct the ceremony. Not only were the setting and the weather perfect, but both the preamble and the vows were much more elegant than those of the old formula.

“You (names of bride and groom) know that by your simultaneous consent which is given publicly and formally in my presence and in the presence of the persons now here, accept each other as your lawful spouse and with the confirmation of that fact by your signature you contract a lawful marriage...”

After receiving a short warning against committing bigamy, Li'l Bro and Bridie repeated their vows – LB solemnly, Bridie with some humorous ripostes: “I call upon all persons here present to witness that I accept you as my lawful spouse to love and to share with you as from this day, moments of joy and sorrow, wealth and poverty, happiness and unhappiness, throughout our life until death do separate us.”

“As from this moment,” Katerina-the-official intoned. “I pronounce you man and wife. You are joined together by your free consent in matrimony, and you owe each other love, fidelity, and respect throughout your life. This marriage constitutes the fulfillment of your life and links your destinies on good and rainy days, in happiness and unhappiness, in wealth and poverty until death do separate you.

Vows exchanged...

Diego plays...

Kisses and applause...

“On the basis of equality you should face together all the problems and all the difficulties of life. Together you should shoulder all the burdens of marriage, each one according to your capabilities. You have both the right and obligation to take care of the upbringing and education of your children so that they may become useful and good citizens and free personalities.”

Their marriage was that simple, and that beautiful. Rings and kisses were exchanged, champagne corks popped, Diego played an air on his violin, and we all ajourned to feast around the beautifully appointed tables, finding our seats by the hand-lettered stones that marked each place.

I missed the speeches (can you believe it?) having chosen just that moment to run home for the cheesecake in its glass dish and the jug of raspberry sauce. But they were that pithy that by the time I returned a scant five minutes later, toasts had been drunk and the serious business of eating and drinking was well underway.

Bridie and her father.

The buffet...

The toasts...

The setting...

The feast...

The cake...

Dancing followed dessert – the bride and groom first on the 'raised dance floor' of the back patio, then a blend of boogies and Greek dances until Bridie's parents – her father is in poor health – wrapped it up and left at 11.30, and the other guests – with the drive to Nicosia before them – left as well. “I never imagined it could be done this way!” the Best Man told LB as he was taking his leave. “If only I'd have known, do you think we would have had the usual wedding?” All those miles of hand-shakes, the hours of standing could not be compared to something as simple and beautiful as this.

The dancing...

I saw no tears at this wedding – though there may have been a few shed from happiness – but the smiles? There were more than enough to spread around.

Family Wedding -- Part 1

Earlier this week my brother-in-law married. He lives in Austria and his bride (Chilean by birth, Belgian by asylum) lives in Brussles – so it was natural that he marry in Cyprus. More specifically in the back yard of my in-laws' home here just outside Paphos.

A quick break for Family Identification (do I sound like an American television station from the '80s?). My Father-in-Law is 'Phil'. My mother-in-law is 'Mili'. My husband is Best Beloved. His younger brother is 'Bill' and Bill's wife is 'Sil' (yes, the -'il' suffix stands for 'in-law'. Clever, no?) So, I'll designate Youngest Brother (No, not as Yob!) as Li'l Bro, and his wife will get the Irish moniker Bridie. That way, we all know they're married. Li'l Bro has two teenage sons, Philip and Timi who, like my children, play themselves.

Li'l Bro and Bridie have been an item for a few years now, but it was only during the last six months that they decided to 'tie-the-knot', and to tie it here, in Phil and Mili's garden, during the holiday season that was convenient for all concerned.

***

Another quick aside to glance at the usual structure of Cypriot weddings. Most occur in Church, in a ritual that takes upwards of an hour and is linguistically incomprehensible to anyone who is not familiar with Katharevousa, the liturgical language of the Greek and Cypriot Orthodox Church. Village weddings have elaborate preparations leading up to the arrival of the church which includes the dressing of the bride, the shaving of the groom, and the preparation of the marriage bed, but modern urban weddings generally skip those steps.

A reception (300 guests is considered 'small', 500-1,000 people counts as 'average', 2,000+ is a good turn-out) usually takes place in one of the hotels or large restaurants depending on the depth of the pockets of the hosts. It used to be in the town square, but modernisation has put paid to that except in close-knit village communities where everyone turns out to help: one of the nicest weddings I ever attended was that of one of BB's cousins in the Plateia of Mandria, with the whole village in attendence and a genuine warmth and interest in the happiness and welfare of the couple. At these receptions bride, groom, and both sets of parents stand, sometimes for hours, accepting hand shakes, good wishes – and piles of 'fakkelakia', the little white envelopes that each contain anything from twenty to well over one hundred euros, depending on the relationship between couple and guest.

The flesh pressing is generally followed by a buffet meal where the menu follows a predictable pattern, and only the quality varies depending on the 'toniness' of hotel or restaurant. A selection of salads (tahini, taramasalata, tzatziki, and village salad); kleftiko, or baked lamb and potatoes (originally baked for a day in clay ovens, these days more often foil wrapped and cooked in the kitchen, although a surprising number of mobile kleftiko ovens are hauled around on the backs of trucks to cater for weddings and other community functions); pasticcio (the Cypriot version of lasagne); stifado, a beef stew; some form of chicken, either souvla or baked; and rice, potatoes, or bulghur wheat. Desserts generally include cream caramel, jelly, wedding cake, and platters of fresh seasonal fruit. Every guest takes away a little wrapped sweet, often containing almonds.

Weddings play an important role in the society, community, and family here. The gatherings are so large because traditionally everyone needs to come and meet everyone else: in a conservative, primarily agricultural society, such family events were the only times that a whole clan gathered and distant cousins could meet and renew old family ties. It was also an occasion to form bonds between the partners' families, and in a community where family links are prized as business connections or for job introductions, knowing who ones 'singenis' or relatives were could be a lifeline. A large gathering is also an essential economic start for a newly married couple: each guest brings money – and every couple hopes to recoup the cost of their wedding by inviting sufficient well-wishers. This may sound cynical, but it's true, and will be openly admitted. An invite to a wedding is also a tacit contract: I will come to your children's weddings and support them, and you are expected to come to mine... In a society that has moved as rapidly as Cyprus has down the materialism highway in the two decades that I have lived here, this has burgeoned into weddings becoming ever more sumptuous social occasions, and expectations becoming ever grander.

When Best Beloved and I wed, back in the early nineties, we bucked the general trend and opted for the gradually-gaining-in-popularity civil wedding, and really rocked the boat by insisting on only twenty-five guests joining us for an evening meal at a Nicosia restaurant. Mili was distressed (“We could have had a small gathering, only 300 or so close friends and family!”), but Phil supported me (“Think of Asproulla's side, only one sister coming! How will she feel surrounded by hundreds of strangers at her wedding, all speaking a language that she doesn't understand?”) I have always blessed him for that.

So we were married by the then-Mayor of Nicosia, Lellos Dimitriades in his city-centre office with only about fifteen attendees (remember, Lee?) in a quick ceremony in English where I didn't have to promise to 'honour and obey' and BB didn't have to say he'd always 'love and cherish' me. There was something about forsaking all others and poverty and wealth and sickness and health, but it was all rather bog standard. He wore a suit, I wore a pale pink party dress from the 1950's that I had picked up in a Galway charity shop. We both said 'I do!' with smiling enthusiasm, then we were driven off in a friends BMW to the Nicosia Hilton leaving 18-month old Alex in the care of my friend Rosemary for the night. Dinner was happily casual, nice food, pleasant music, good company – and several of our guests said 'Your wedding was much nicer than mine, and far less exhausting!'

***

But I digress... Suffice to say that to break the mould of Cypriot custom and invite only a few friends is unusual, and that although civil weddings are now much more common than they were a decade and a half ago, to have a civil wedding in your parents' yard is to really go out on a limb of originality. Stay tuned for the next post...