I Do

My wife and I tie the knot.

One thing that no-one ever mentioned to me, largely because logically they wouldn’t need to because it’s blindingly obvious, is that the last month before your wedding is always complete madness.

Because … of course it is. Final deadlines loom, RSVPs come in and throw your table arrangements into disarray, you accommodate for vegetarians/vegans and then one decides not to come without RSVPing you because they’re an awful prick, costing you an extra thirty bucks for an empty chair…

Even before that, there were a couple of bumps. The wedding registry office, known colloquially as the Love Palace to avoid reciting the absurdly long and ridiculous commu-socialist big government title of the place, required translations of my passport, legal documents, and visa … and my work had spelled my name a different way than the translation company’s far more logical spelling of it for some reason. Which meant we needed to walk an hour back to the translation company to change their translation of my name, and then get back to the Love Palace before the officiant went to lunch.

According to the my work, my name is actually Matthew Oooaterhouse, so that is now how I must be addressed. However, that wasn’t even so bad, aside from the walking. The translation company did it for free and I got a funny new name.

We were so well prepared going into that last month, at least we thought we were. We were a pair of sweet summer children. Everything was booked, all the entertainment, decorations, food and the venue…

Then I lost my card that had all the wedding money on it.

But that was fine, because we had all the downpayments and amounts either paid or set aside. The only thing left was the final wedding payment, and I was able to sort out a new card fairly quickly. Sure, it was a card from my home country and not Kyrgyzstan, but no problem, my family could bring the card easily.

Then there were concerns that we didn’t have enough entertainment, so the DJ became a DJ and a live band.

Then we got a belly dancer.

Then there were repeated issues getting meat for the wedding (more on this later).

Then we found out we couldn’t live at the place where I was living because of contract issues, so we sorted out a new apartment with the gracious help of my Kyrgyz family. A brilliant place, assisted by brilliant people, but a place that needed some work doing to it, and for the love of all that’s holy, don’t plan a wedding and renovate an apartment at the same time, both for your sanity and your husband or wife to be’s.

So the last month had a few cracks in the pavement, but none of them caved in the ground, because the wedding was absolutely incredible.

My wife and I decided on a blend of a typical western wedding and something more Kyrgyz. The western side of it was mainly in the traditions and the ceremony itself. In Kyrgyz weddings, for example, there is no problem with the bride and groom seeing each other beforehand. The Kyrgyz side came in language and some of the traditional headwear (the kalpaks below) For ours, of course we didn’t see each other, leading to me keeping my eyes fixed forwards while she was right behind me before we walked down the aisle, and closing my eyes when I got to the podium where our best men and bridesmaids awaited. Before things kicked off, officiant and usher blessed the wedding and marriage, which the best men joined in with, and then we were off down the aisle to Elvis Presley’s “Can’t Help Falling In Love”, which was one of my grandma’s favourite songs.

I thought my mum would be the first one to cry, and a few others thought my best man Lee would be the first. No-one suspected that it would be Alina’s brother or me, and I’m not super sure which one of us started first.

The officiant came from the Love Palace specially to sign us off and present us with our marriage licence. There was some Ed Sheeran snuck into the wedding soundtrack, but it was only a flash of ginger so that’s fine. We put rings elegantly on each other’s fingers (we practiced it a lot) and then were whisked away to take some photos, and also practice our dance for the last time.

And it was badly needed. My wife’s wedding dress was massive, and weighed about as much as my luggage that came with me to Kyrgyzstan, so the turns, picking her up and spinning her in the air, and steps to make sure neither of us stepped on it needed a minor rework.

Then it was time for the reception, and the moment where West and Central Asia met and danced together.

First, we were ushered in by six dancers, fanning us with large white feathers, before our first dance began. To Lana Del Ray’s “Young And Beautiful”, and under the cover of a fog machine, we made it look good. Our lift and spin looked great despite me sort of messing it up, and no-one saw either of us trip on the hem a couple of times. After that, the toasts and games began.

Kyrgyz weddings involve toasts from whoever wants to give one, potentially long winded, and I’m told they’re generally quite boring. I can’t speak to this personally, as the only Kyrgyz wedding I’ve been to is mine, but my wife and many guests told me specifically that they involve a lot of sitting down and listening to people say variations of the same thing. There were a lot of toasts, but I enjoyed hearing those words from everyone, as well as the moving speeches by my best men. Someone snuck in a “gorka!” which means my wife and I had to kiss (had to lol) and Maksat, the usher, dutifully translated as much as he could.

Food piled up on our table, and we had little opportunity to eat any of it except from a few mouthfuls of beef medallion and assorted bits of salad, as well as a couple of glasses of wine. For all these toasts we had to stand up, which was lovely and respectful, but took us away from the food.

The other aspect of a Kyrgyz wedding is the events. At a British wedding, for example, there’s the ceremony, then everyone starts drinking and mingling. After that is the usually three course meal, with speeches made by groom, best man and father of the bride. Then there might be one entertainment thing, but mainly the music starts and everyone dances, gets hammered, or both. At a Kyrgyz wedding, you’ve got the booze sorted already, so there’s no bar. In between, there are interactive games led by the usher, guest performers, and musical interludes where people can dance. The whole thing is essentially an entertainment revue with a married couple as the centre-piece.

Our wedding had a dance troupe, the same girls that waved us in with feathers, who did a traditional Kyrgyz dance as well as one with light up fans. Also the aforementioned belly dancer, who perked up every man at the venue and aroused the suspicion of their wives, and a surprise troupe of Cossack dancers who my mother and father-in-law booked as a little gift. The first musical interlude was performed by a live band, who were cooking on gas, getting everyone on their feet and dancing.

My wife threw her bouquet, which was caught by one of her friends, and I had a bouquet full of snacks which was won by my brother-in-law in a raffle with the ominous message: “you’re next.” My toast made my wife cry (happy tears), and after the last dance to MOT’s “Solo” we had a tearful group hug with the best men, before we swept from the room.

Married life has begun in force, and one month and one day in (at time of writing) I’m loving every minute of it. Our apartment is coming along nicely, albeit with some new floors and less flamboyant wallpaper (see below) needing to go in, but it’s ours, and we’ll get to see it build and turn into our first home together. Our first dinner there, sans an oven, microwave or fridge, was a selection of delicious food from the nearby supermarket’s deli, eaten with plastic cutlery out of plastic bowls, and it was a perfect feast. Probably because of the company <3.

In my toast I said this:

(Yes, I know I’m quoting myself. I’m sorry.)

“It’s hard to believe that I was only supposed to be in Kyrgyzstan for six months. Now, I can’t imagine my life anywhere else.”

I will always return to Britain for family, and the friends that have become family, but Kyrgyzstan is home. Where I live and work, where I’ve found the love of my life, where we’ll have children and raise them.

My heart is here, in the mountains and the streams, in the lakes and the rolling plains. I don’t know if here is where my wife and I will remain, the future is a blank canvas, but I can’t wait to start painting.