The Wedding

Here is the one picture of me I allowed to be taken with my camera. You can see how at ease I felt.
Seriously if I ever get married it will never be in Japan. I would die - it’s all about the photos. The poor bride and groom barely have a minute to sit down. They spend the day being asked to move her, stand there, smile, don’t smile. Honest to God, it would be my worst nightmare.
There were official photographers and cameramen (even with studio-style lighting). And that’s to say nothing of the digital cameras, Polaroids and camera phones that we guests shoved in their faces at every available opportunity.
It really reinforced the stereotypes many people hold about the Japanese and picture taking.
There were times I actually felt sorry for the bride and groom. The hotel provided this amazing banquet. It was served and all for the happy couple at the high table, but as soon as they sat down to eat, an usher came along and said, ‘now it’s time for oiro naoshi.’ (お色直し - when the bride and groom change from traditional kimono into a second style of outfit).
I heard subsequently that the staff wraps everything and leaves it up in the bedroom for the couple to eat in the short space between the reception and after-party. I mean, it’s not wasted which is good, but those beautiful dishes would all have gone cold. At least they didn’t starve.

This is the seating plan we were all given before the start of the wedding reception. Can you see where I was sitting? Not hard, eh?
I was mortified - they went and put me at the top table with the bride’s closest friends, right beside the bride and groom.
These Japanese really take the whole ‘family-stand-back’ philosophy to another level. Usually the family of the bride and groom are put sitting way in the back, practically in the kitchen. Then, if you have a boss from work or old teacher in attendance, they will be given the most prominent seat.
As the bride and her husband now live in Switzerland, there were no work colleagues to show respect to, and by default, the honour came to her oldest friend...and me. Go figure!
It’s really quite different to the Irish way of doing things, where it’s all about family. I guess you could say it was just one of the many cultural differences I came across throughout the whole ceremony.

This is a photo of the envelope in which you put your monetary gift to the bride and groom.
First of all, deciding how much money to pay is an absolute nightmare - it all depends on your relationship to the bride and your social ranking. It’s all done on a sliding scale. I really had no idea where I should place myself in this tier system, so I asked around. Of course I got a different freakin’answer from everyone I asked. Man, it’s not wonder committees never get anything done. In the end I split the difference and paid half way between the lowest and highest figures that were suggested to me. I wish I had paid more now, especially seeing where they put me in the seating plan.
It’s not cheap attending a wedding over here. You pay for every party you attend. As I was at the wedding ceremony itself, the reception and the after party, it really added up. But it was worth every penny.
You can see how beautifully decorated and ornate envelope is. It reads kotobuki (寿 - a special celebratory kanji). Eagle-eyed readers might notice that mine is decorated with a crane - remember how I said this symbol is used for long life and happiness.
The whole folding of the envelope presents another challenge - it varies depending on the occasion: funeral, marriage, birth etc. You have to know what way the notes should face, whether they should be new or used, which flap should be over or under the other. It’s all very confusing. Having now attended a wedding and a funeral, I’m becoming a bit of an expert.
I also included my tie in the photo - black for a funeral and white for a wedding. I felt so over dressed. Real penguin style. I was happy with my silver cufflinks though, a parting gift from my first real job. By chance they had little Swiss crosses stamped on them, quite appropriate with the groom coming from Zurich.

The day of the wedding mapped out as follows:
We arrived at the banquet hall and signed in. In the lobby, we had a chance for pictures with the happy couple in their traditional robes.
We signed the guest book and gave our gift of money.
The bride and groom boarded the rickshaw outside the hotel to an accompaniment of traditional enka folk music.
Many, many pictures (even from the bystanders).
We proceeded up to the temple in blessed dry weather under a canopy of fresh, green cherry blossom leaves. Bad weather had been forecast all week, but in the end it stayed dry.
In fact, to have it rain on your wedding day is quite lucky in Japan. They have a saying ‘ame futte, jikatamaru’ (雨降って地固まる - when it rains, the ground is hard - the implication being that rain on your wedding day represents a solid foundation for your future life together). The saying is not only used for weddings, but is used anytime you want to show that a stable foundation has been achieved. It’s a pretty good one to remember. I’m all about the positive thinking now that rainy season is almost upon us. Yuck!
To get back to the procession, it wasn’t as picturesque as it sounds - the ground was quite muddy, no small challenge for the kimono clad, and the pigeons swooped down thick and fast.
We went to a side room of the shrine, sat Japanese style on tatami, and formally introduced ourselves. I sweat more than in a Bikram yoga lesson. Needless to say, more pictures.
To the accompaniment of a trio of traditional wind instruments, we moved to the main body of the shrine. The music has to be heard to be believed. It’s an eclectic mix of beautiful organ-like sounds and gentle wooden flutes, combined with the screeching of a cat whose tail has been caught in the door.
To actually be allowed into the shrine was a rare and special chance. Usually this opportunity is reserved for members of the family alone. But as the groom’s family couldn’t come over from Switzerland, we were all allowed in to make up the numbers.
Imagine a large tatami room, where the bride and groom sit in the centre facing each other and behind them sit their family and friends. There followed a very austere and reverent thirty minutes of blessings, ceremonial dancing and chanting, and a solemn promise read out by the groom. He had learnt the script phonetically, as he doesn’t speak Japanese, and said later it was the only time he was nervous in the entire day. He gave a flawless rendition.
The high point of the ceremony is sansankudo (三三九度 - a very ornate exhange of nine sips of sake between the bride and groom and their families (and friends). I cannot stress enough how privileged I was to have a chance to take part in this event. But man, it was formal and restrained. I found it incredibly interesting, but quite joyless at what should be such a happy time. I really don’t think it’s for me.
Many more pictures (this is where the master of ceremonies gave out to me for trying to hide away in the back row - yikes).
We returned to the banquet hall and started the feast. This beautiful meal was broken up with of course an unending stream of photo ops, a slideshow of the happy couple’s baby pictures, a table quiz about Switzerland, and some karaoke by some kids and the Harajuku girls.
Thankfully, there weren’t many speeches. I was told that at weddings where company bosses and managers come along, you can be bored to death by the long-winded exchanges of pleasantries. Luckily the whole reception was really informal and relaxed.
When the bride and groom had finished changing into Western attire, the bride gave her speech. This was the time for waterworks. You see the bride’s father passed away many years ago, and she gave a very moving speech to her mother and brother talking about how she wished her father could be here on this special day.
It higlighted a real generation in Japanese society. The younger women freely wept at this and showed their emotions, while the older women (including the mother of the bride), though clearly dying inside, were stoic and did their best to show no emotion at all. It was another fascinating example of how much life in Japan has changed in only twenty or so years.
We ended the banquet with a formal receiving line of congratulation and thanks.
Then, thank God, the younger friends and the bride and groom got a chance to change into more comfortable clothes and moved onto the nijikai (二次会 - post-party party).
This was a small party of twenty or so in a Japanese izakaya (居酒屋 - pub). It was the loud, rowdy, slightly drunken gathering we Irish expect at a wedding. Don’t get me wrong, I adored the whole day up to that point, but I sure ended in my element.