My wife and I have just returned from attending a wedding in Mexico, and it’s quite bizarre how different another country’s wedding ceremony and reception can be.
We flew from Atlanta to Mexico City on Friday morning which was the easy part of the journey. We then caught the train from Terminal 1 to Terminal 2 in pursuit of the bus station. The third leg of the journey made me very apprehensive about agreeing to take this trip. We were embarking on a four hour bus ride to Orizaba east of Mexico City, and I had a stereotype view that the bus would comprise wooden benches, packed to the rafters with the sea of humanity, and a few goats and chickens thrown in for good measure.
I was delighted to discover that my concerns were unfounded. The accommodation was bordering on luxury. The seats were very comfortable and reclined if desired. The bus was fitted with air conditioning and two rest rooms. Videos were available from several screens for the duration of the journey, but they were in Spanish, and I only understand gracias, si, pa favor, and how much for the woman? Well you can’t have everything.
We arrived at our destination on time, and were able to walk to the hotel a couple of blocks away. After settling into our room we decided to explore what Orizaba had to offer. It’s not exactly a tourist destination, but it’s a colorful, lively town with a population of approximately 100,000 and several places of interest to keep us occupied.*
The wedding invitation indicated that the ceremony would take place at 7.00 pm (in hindsight make that “seven-ish”) with a reception to follow at 9.00pm (nine-ish) until late. My wife insisted on ordering a taxi at 6.00pm and she can speak reasonable Spanish to tell the driver our destination. However she was taken aback when the taxi driver appeared not to have heard of the cathedral where the wedding was taking place. It was luckily lost in translation and he dropped us outside the venue ten minutes later.
We were rather early and unsurprisingly there were no other guests to be found, but as the The cathedral clock struck 6.30pm a few other guests were mercifully milling around the Cathedral courtyard. The flowers arrived on the back of a truck at 6.45pm while evening mass was still taking place inside the cathedral. The courtyard was now beginning to fill up with more guests and at 6.50pm the bridegroom strolled into the courtyard all alone with a big smile on his face, but perspiring feverishly in a tuxedo.
It’s the bride’s privilege to be late for her wedding and she duly obliged. The bridal car, a cream colored SUV adorned with ribbons driven by the groom’s nephew, pulled into the courtyard around 7.10pm while stragglers from the mass were just leaving.
The groom then helped his bride out of the car, paused for a few photographs, and escorted her into the Cathedral with 400 guests bringing up the rear. The bridal march was substituted for a Mexican folk song and we were left to find our seats. There were no bridesmaids, no best man, groomsmen, ushers or father of the bride, but The flowers looked very pretty.
The service was naturally held in Spanish, but I was impressed that the happy couple had memorized their vows. Gazing into each other’s eyes and holding microphones, they reminded me of Peaches and Herb as they exchanged vows and slipped on the wedding rings.
They paused for several photographs at the altar and walked out of the Cathedral, but with no music accompaniment. I was tempted to whistle Handel’s Wedding March but I was suffering from bronchitis and couldn’t hit the high notes.
The reception was being held a couple of miles away but we had no intention of repeating our earlier faux pas of being the first guests to arrive. We furtively turned up at 9.30pm and joined a long queue which had formed at the entrance. Somebody had the bright idea of inviting guests to finger paint on a “wedding tree” and sign the damn thing. We were shown to our seats around ten after ten.
The bride and groom reappeared about 10.30pm as the first course was beginning its rounds. Now I’m all for gentle background music playing while I’m eating a meal, but a saxophone player paraded around the dance floor attempting to play the “Kenny G” box set before they cut the cake.
I had heard that Mexicans love to party, but remarkably there was no alcohol served or available to purchase at the reception save for a glass of pink champagne of dubious quality to toast the bride and groom. We decided to take our leave around midnight, and as we walking out the door, I swear I saw a number of bottles of tequila being pulled out of a drinks cabinet.
“Okay amigos, we can get the good stuff flowing now. The gringos are finally leaving……..”
Footnote: Seriously, it was an honor to be invited to the couple’s wedding. It was fun and enjoyable experience and a weekend I will never forget. The bride and groom dropped in at the bus station to see us off and they didn’t leave the reception until 7.00am.Sure sign we’re getting old.
*Highlights:
