You could hardly ask for a better day for a wedding:
sunshine from a clear blue sky and mild temperatures. This weather, in
December! Only the Wuhan mud smeared the picture. But then, if you're in the
know about Wuhan mud, you understand that the street cleaners created it, early
in the morning, spraying the dusty roads down so that people wouldn't be
inhaling those particles. It hadn't rained in a while, and everything was
covered in a drab, dirty coat. Seven years on, I can't get used to Wuhan mud.
Or Wuhan dust.
But none of it tarnished this wedding.
Like the street cleaners, I was out early, to catch the
first bus to Hong Hu (洪湖 ), Tristan's hometown. I've
fallen into the Chinese habit of not pre-booking my ticket; for long-distance
buses especially, that is not necessary. I would either luck into a relatively
early departure, or have to wait a few hours.
As it turned out, the bus would be leaving within minutes of
my buying passage. And, as though the fine weather were an omen of nothing but
good to come, the coach was a newer, more comfortable model than I expected.
Usually, buses that rumble into out of the way places tend to be small and
raggedy, their maintenance questionable. For a change, I rode a long-distance
bus that was not only comfortably appointed, but virtually empty! And, even
though some commented on 'the foreigner', nobody approached me.
I pulled out my recorder and started making impressions of
this trip.
Hong Hu is a small town, about three hours away. So off the
beaten track is it that the only way to reach it using public transportation is
by bus: no trains anywhere near there. I had been to a village on the outskirts
of Hong Hu my first year here to attend the wedding one of my students' relatives.It
was quite an affair, and my first traditional wedding in China.
Tristan had called me the day before to inform me that the
actual wedding had been moved to 5 PM. I thought this would give me a breather
in the morning; I wouldn't have to get up so early and catch the first bus.
However, he said that there would be plenty of wedding related activities, and
I should still come as soon as I could.
I was glad I did!
Upon arrival at the hotel where the event was set up,
Tristan's mother fell upon me, thanked me profusely for deigning to grace her
son's wedding – as though it were such a chore!, and took physical possession
of me: pulling and pushing me in whatever direction she wanted us to go (how I
hate that!). After making our way across the room where lunch was in full swing
and every table in the vast hall was fully occupied, with her making
introductions all the while, she finally plopped me down in a chair, at a table
full of Tristan's old school chums.
I vaguely remembered some of the faces: Jeff, who is now
married and a father; Sean, who I met in Shenzhen when Tristan lived there; and
Johnathan. You might remember him from the first year I was here; he and his
girlfriend came to my home for dinner and subsequently questioned everything I
did, even going so far as to take a knife out of my hand so Marie could slice a
potato (See How Rude entry, posted 2010). Catching up with them was an
odd affair; after each question, one or the other of the men urged me to eat. I
was at odds as to whether I should eat or answer questions!
I managed an eighth of a hard-boiled egg and a bit of
lotus root soup before being tugged away again.
After posing for endless photographs with anyone in
attendance that wanted to, Johnathan invited me to McDonalds' for a coffee.
Apparently, he had drunk too much the night before and needed a pick-me-up. As
there was a lull in wedding activity, I agreed to ride with him. As soon as we
walked in the restaurant, I was swarmed by every teenager in the place, and
they all shouted at me in English! I gave them my standard answer for occasions
such as this: “I'm French, I don't speak a word of English. Do you speak
French?” Of course, I said this in Chinese, and it helped that Johnathan had
mostly forgotten his English and we were conversing in Mandarin to begin
with.
Back to the hotel again, for games! Tristan was going to
'fetch his bride', a traditional activity. En masse, we all trooped up five
flights of stairs, arrived at the bridal suite, pounded on the door, and were finally
let in after Tristan slid a 'red envelope' under the door. And then, Linda
couldn't find her shoe (it was cleverly hidden inside the drape tie-backs). Now
properly shod, Linda agreed to marry Tristan. He then scooped her up and
carried her downstairs.
An uncle had apparently become attached to me and matched
me, step for step, all the way up and then down the stairs. Descending
together, he remarked how surprising it was that I could even manage stairs,
seeing as I am so fat!
And then, the parade through town. In the first Hong Hu
wedding I attended, it was done on foot, with fire crackers heralding our
approach. This time in was done in cars, with a videographer hanging out of the
car window to capture the bridal car driving by. It took almost two hours to
get every shot the artist wanted. Thank goodness for clement weather!
The videographer was a caricature of an artist, complete
with beret that somehow stayed on his head, even as he hung halfway out of
moving cars.
Back to the hotel, with ample time for Linda to reset the
curls that had blown askew during the ride. Tristan and I had a private moment.
He's been my protegé ever
since he graduated from our school, in 2011. Over the phone and during visits,
he's shared his life and his woes with me. I held him as he cried over the
death of his father, shortly after graduation. He brought Linda to my home, as
though I were an actual relative who must give approval of his beloved (of
course, I approved!). Today, I am so happy to see him marry the woman he
loves!
Now, for the big moment: the formal ceremony.
Tristan and Linda's wedding was the most lavish affair
I've ever attended, and that's saying a lot: I've attended weddings in four
different countries! Everything was perfectly choreographed, even my little
speech before the lovebirds took center stage. Tristan, ramrod-straight,
escorting a beaming Linda to the front of the room, where they would exchange
rings and then kiss. The moving 'thank you' speeches, made to their mothers,
and the promise that the newlyweds will not forget their obligation to them.
Mothers crying. Tristan crying. Me, crying.
After the sumptuous meal, Johnathan and I loaded up.
Long-distance buses had stopped running already and, as he also lives in Wuhan,
Tristan had arranged for him to give me a lift back. We chatted
lackadaisically. I was never as close to Johnathan as I am with Tristan.
Tristan and Linda's is most likely the last wedding I will
attend in China, and certainly the last one I will be invited to speak at.
Although this occasion was beautiful and pleasurable and moving, through it all
sounded the sorrowful knell, ticking off my 'lasts' in China.
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