Kyle’s Journey in Armenia

Love is in the air here in Noyemberyan. My host brother’s cousin, Sambul, finally decided to tie the knot yesterday. As you may remember, I went to a wedding last year, but because of that family’s financial situation, they did not do many of the Armenian wedding traditions. Not so with yesterday! The family pulled out all the stops, involving both alive and dead animals, plate breaking, and a bowl of money, for this 12 hour adventure.

For whatever reasons, most weddings in the first Christian nation don’t actually take place in a church. Some do, this one didn’t. So I can’t comment on the official “wedding ceremony” – most people settle for the registration certificate and call it a day. What they lack in religious officialism they make up for with the reception.

The first step is for the groom and his closest friends to go retrieve the bride. This, of course, can not be accomplished without a convoy of at least 6 cars, fully decorated, honking their horns and driving through town. My host brother’s Lada was the lead car, which gave it two extra responsibilities. First, it had to be adorned with a dead fox sprawled out on the front:

The second responsibility is stealing a chicken from the bride’s family, which as you can see above was also a great success. So after we completed the theft (they live in an apt building so it wasn’t so easy) we picked up the bride (which is symbolic of her leaving her house behind forever) and coming back home in the same obnoxious manner. Actually being in the car was fun though – a lot better than listening to it from your bedroom while trying to take a nap.

We arrived back at the groom’s house, and the real fanfare began. First out was the best man with the chicken, who was greeted by clapping relatives and a three person band consisting of a clarinet, drum and accordion. The music played on as the bride and groom arrived, and they got out of the car and stood and watched the party. The rest of the wedding party arrived with all the gifts from the bride’s family, which they held above their heads and danced with outside the house. This last for about 15 minutes (really) before the rest of the welcoming ceremony continued.

Next, the groom’s mother arrived with a bowl of honey, which she fed to both the bride and groom, and then draped a piece of lavash (Armenian bread – like a tortilla) over the right should of each. After that they led the bride and groom into the house, but before they could enter, they each had to stomp on and break a plate to be officially welcomed inside.

Finally, the party began (around 6) with a huge table, the same band, and the inevitable back-and-forth of family toasting. I sat with my host brother’s friends, which made us the “party table”. We certainly lived up to the name. It took about an hour to get warmed up, but eventually we hit the dance floor – hard. For those who knew me back in the States, you know my dancing is usually abysmal. I usually clear the dance floor, but not in a good way. But for some reason, Armenian dancing has come rather naturally to me, and the Armenians love it and compliment me on my moves. I hope their just patronizing me, because I feel like I’m going to kill someone every time I’m out there. I was getting random compliments from people in town (who weren’t at the wedding at all, mind you) all today. Heh.

Interspersed with the dancing were various events, including the traditional bouquet/boutonniere toss, the giving of presents (a lot of gold necklaces and rings), and of course, the dance between the bride and groom. Them dancing is about where the similarities with our weddings stop. The bride and groom had to start separate, and they passed around a tray for money which had to be at a certainly level before the groom was allowed to join in the dance. I think it’s brilliant – my future wedding guests should keep this in mind and come with a full wallet.

So, we danced the night away, literally. I finally left at 3 AM, a full 10 hours after the party started. Needless to say, today I’ve been exhausted, but it was well worth it. The Armenian wedding is certainly something I’ll never forget. Tuesday I’m going to my other cousin’s engagement party, and I’ve been promised it’s going to be another cultural adventure. Time to get the dancing shoes back out, once again.

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