When the daughter of someone important gets married, the whole village is invited. And so it was last Sunday. Even the ‘falangs’, or foreigners, were invited to join the celebrations that evening. At 7.00pm sharp, we trotted off from the Sanctuary in the direction of the local school, whose grounds had been commandeered for the event. And how! On arrival, all guests filed through a small marquee and along the receiving line. No shaking of hands; rather a gesture with both hands pressed together in front of the face. Finally, one greeted the bride and groom who were standing before an elaborate floral display, smiling shyly as nearly two thousand (yes, you read that correctly!) two thousand guests arrived for the party of the year.

Hundreds of tables were spread out across the school grounds; on each one a selection of drinks and snacks. A huge buffet was laid out along each side of the arena: barbeque meats, strange fishy things, spicy sauces, rice (of course), and gallons of noodle soup. No wedding cake, though. A massive stage dominated the far end of the field. Almost good enough for a rock concert, complete with local band. And they were loud, especially once the dancing started. I say dancing, though it was a peculiar arrangement. Everyone forming a huge circle, moving slowly round while waving their hands and arms in that strange Asian style. Makes your wrists ache, I can tell you!

One or two shopkeepers from the village and local market were recognisable, but looking very different in their fine clothes. All the men in suits and ties, while the women were decked out in traditional Lao dresses. These are always of silk, and always in super-bright colours. Even the little children were dressed up for the occasion.

Before the going away ceremony, the groom was carried in on the shoulders of his family, while the bride waited on the stage. Then they made a show of throwing the bouquet into the crowd. The party went on into the small hours, so no sleep for anyone living within earshot.

 

24/10/2019