What an incredible process. Primarily fun and new and exciting, somewhat bureaucratic and painful. Traditionally in Vietnam, the wedding photos come well before the ceremony. This is done for many reasons. One, I’m assuming, is that no one buys dresses here as it is an exorbitant and excess purchase. And people don’t seem to hold onto things here. Culturally with a communist state of ownership, possessions are kept to things practical and functional. You won’t come across the classic American basement full of things one might use once or twice, if ever. People only have rooms full of stuff if it’s the back room in the house. Often full of back stock for their street-side business. Even large children’s toys like big wheels, bicycles, and hoverboards are rented partly due to expense and space.
Her Day
What has developed in this atmosphere is what I have affectionately come to know as “her day.” I knew we were taking some photos but had no idea what would come next. We woke up early, and I pressed my suit. I had chosen a white linen suit from my options back home due to the heat and humidity, and I’m glad I did. I’m so happy I brought a suit at all. I’ll get into that later. I donned my suit, and we jumped in a taxi. We headed to the neighborhood of Bình Thuận. Like most districts, there seemed to be endless shops devoted to the same craft. The street we found ourselves on was lined with bridal and wedding shops. All devoted to the art of “her day.”
We found the one Diễm had set our appointment with, and we sat down for a consultation. I had no idea that this was going to be a hectic day. A day full of makeovers, multiple hair sessions, and professional photo shoots. A very pampered and busy day that any woman would be envious of. In the end, no one keeps their dresses and accessories here. So I guess the trade-off is that the world revolves around you for a day in Vietnam. When the sun set, we would have photos with multiple beautiful dresses. And the only reason I stayed in the same suit is that after trying on nearly every article of clothing in the building, I couldn’t find anything sized “Fat A&@ American.”
Diễm seemed always to be surrounded by a team of dress, hair, and makeup experts swirling around like a busy hive of worker bees. The photographer was fun and very good at his craft. It indeed was a magical day. “Her Day” always comes many days before the ceremony, which would be on the 2nd of July. We must ensure the beautifully crafted pictures in their glossy white frames will be ready for display on the wedding day. The day wonderfully coming to a close, we headed home to peel out of my suit and grab a bite to eat.
The Wedding Day
Several days would go by, and my posts about the night markets and others until the day at the mall will cover the gap. It was the day of the wedding, and we had just arrived home from a little fried chicken and spaghetti with the family, and it was time to get ready. We rented out the top floor of a restaurant called Đổng Xanh. We would have both the brief ceremony and reception with close friends and family. Unfortunately, I am some twelve thousand miles from home. My family could not make it. I hope this is an adequate substitute.
I had gone ahead, and Diễm had stayed behind in the apartment, getting ready with another dress specific to this day and occasion. We arrived at the restaurant by taxi with my new sister and brother-in-law. I went to the private room and began to pace the open-aired top floor. The space was decorated beautifully, and the servers were busily finishing the last touches of the reception. I was excited and just wanted Diễm by my side.
I took the time to take some photos of the setup and research the menu a little bit. We were having a seven-course feast, and though my recognition of Vietnamese food words was improving, it was still relegated chiefly to street-style offerings and not the more upscale fair we would be served here. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, my beautiful bride climbed the stairs to join us. She was wearing a gorgeous blue evening gown with lace. Beautifully ornate.
We said our vows—Hers in Vietnamese and mine in English. At the same time, our translator translated mine for her friends and family. Then, we exchanged rings and were announced as Husband and wife. The traditional toast between husband and wife was two glass mugs of beer, and we sat down to a fantastic feast at the head of the table as Husband and wife.
The Dinner
As the beer began to flow and the cheers began to erupt in a chant after chant of một, ha, ba, dio, the ever-attentive servers started to bring out platter upon platter of fantastic food offerings. Chilled salads of beef and chicken, hot pots of savory broths with herbs and greens, platters of chilled crispy vegetables and pork belly, several types of noodles, piles of freshly cut fruit, sauces to dip and slurp, and ah yes, beer lots of beer!
I found the chilled chicken salad particularly mesmerizing as it was a whole chicken cooked then chilled and tossed with a tangy dressing with marinated onions and delicate greens and tossed in the bowl to cause the chicken to fall apart, bones and all, and then neatly piled on a banana leaf. We are and drank and cheered into the night. I honestly can’t recall a more fun and wonderful evening in a very long time. When we return to the states together, I will have to get our two families in America together to share in a celebration of our union again.
The only thing that would have made it more special is if my family had been there to join us. I know they were there in spirit and support. To them, I thank you for being you, and I can’t wait for everyone to get together. To my new family, thank you for welcoming me as your own. I genuinely feel like part of the family. We love you all!
