The invitation said seven in the
evening and I was there in good time. I found several friends already
there and we stood together, outside the church, chatting, discussing
the sartorial splendour, or lack of it, of
the other guests, as we waited the arrival of the bride and groom.
The women were, for the most part, clad in evening dress. The men
ranged from smart shirts and trousers, to blue jeans and work shirts.
We were harsh critics,
“Whatever does she think she’s
wearing?” “Have you seen that woman in the blue? I think she’s
forgotten to put her skirt on.” “Look at those shoes!” Suddenly
from a distance away, we heard the continual, discordant beeping of
many car horns.
“That will be the groom arriving,”
said Chrysoula who was standing near me. “I went to school with
Sophia. I will be very interested to see what her groom is like.”
“It will be your turn soon,” I told
her.
“I’m in no hurry, it’ll depend on
father.”
The cavalcade of vehicles pulled up at
the church, to the accompaniment of much gunfire. The groom,
uncomfortable in his new suit and haircut, made his way to the top of
the steps by the church door, holding a bouquet of flowers.
“He will hand them to the bride when
she arrives,” Chrysoula whispered to me.
At that moment the bride arrived in a
car decorated with fresh flowers. As she stepped out of the car,
radiant in white, the guests all began to clap. The groom approached
and handed her the bouquet, greeting her with a kiss on the cheek.
Three tiny bridesmaids trotted around the happy couple like animated
meringues in their pink and white flouncy dresses.
“Do you think she’s expecting?”
whispered Chrysoula, “The dress is not a fitted style, it’s
difficult to tell.”
We speculated on the possibility as we
watched the groom greet his father –in –law to be.
The couple entered the church together
and we all crowded in behind them.
The altar had also been decorated
with fresh flowers and swathes of white organza. The priest was in
his most colourful garb. He began the
service immediately.
Sometimes when the weather is very hot the priest will conduct the service outside
I tried to follow the service as
best I could but was rather surprised to see, once again as at other
services I had attended, the people in the congregation chattering to
each other and many of the men were outside smoking, and leaning
against the church walls. Even the bride’s mother turned around to
chat to the person behind her. The priest did not seem to be at all
perturbed by this and continued the liturgy.
It was very hot inside the church with
so many people crowding in. I could see the mother of the bride
flourishing a large black fan, trying to keep her daughter cool.
Although I could not understand much
of the service, I saw that at one point the priest held a goblet of
wine to the lips of the couple and a spoonful of honey. Later I
noticed the bride tread on the grooms foot.
“It’s a tradition” whispered
Chrysoula., “If she does that it means that she will be the boss in
the house.” The best man, or ‘Koumbaros’, then held two small,
white, coronets of over the heads of the bride and groom. The
circlets were connected to each other by a piece of white ribbon.
They were crossed over the heads of the happy couple several times
then placed on their heads and, thus connected, they processed with
the priest, and the best man, around the altar three times. The
guests began to throw rice and rose petals over the pair and this,
combined with the marble floor, caused all the participants to skid
around as if it were an ice rink. The bride was desperately hanging
on to the hand of the groom as she tried to keep her balance.
At the end of the service the
family formed a receiving line by the door of the church, the best
man holding a silver tray, on which the guests placed small envelopes
containing money, the accepted form of wedding gift.
As we left the church we were handed
‘boubonieres’, sugared almonds wrapped in a piece of decorative
net and tied with a ribbon.
Frescos inside the church
The reception was held at a
‘kendro’, a large building, purpose built, to cater for up to
about three thousand guests, not an unusual number for a Cretan
wedding.
The tables were groaning with plates
of ‘orektika’- starters-, bread, ‘xerotigana’- sweetmeats of
thin pastry rolled up into a rosettes, fried and then drenched in
honey, plates of graviera cheese, and of course, wine and tsigoudia.
I discovered that Roy and Margaret
were also amongst the guests at the wedding, though I had not seen
them in the crush at the church. They invited me to join them at
their table, finding, shortly afterwards, that because Margaret only
drank vodka, she had a hip flask of the spirit secreted in her
handbag.
We were at a table with about ten
other people, some of whom we knew, some who were total strangers.
But by the time we had shared a drink, the ice was broken. Margaret,
of course, knew the “master of ceremonies’.
“This is Manolis’” she said,
introducing me to him. “He is married to the sister of the owner of
‘Fanis’ where we often go to eat.”
Manolis looked as if he had stepped
out of a photograph of the eighteen hundreds in the Wild West. He was
small and thin, with long rather straggly hair, a fancy maroon
waistcoat and a shoestring tie. After greeting us he rushed off to
make sure that the team of waiters was attending to the needs of the
guests and that everyone was seated properly.
By the time the happy couple
arrived at the kendro, entering to the recorded strains of The
Wedding March played over the sound system the orektika were all
finished the remains cleared away and a large, seven tiered cake had
been placed on a table in the middle of the dance floor.
They cut the cake and fed each other
forkfuls, then shared a glass of champagne. The assembled company
began to tap their glasses with their cutlery, this grew in volume
and was the signal that the guests wanted to see the bride and groom
kiss. This duly accomplished, the cake was whisked away and the
feasting began in earnest.
The feasting begins
First there arrived large steaming
plates of ‘pilaffi’ and platters of boiled lamb, served with
lemons. As each platter was emptied it was immediately taken away and
refilled. Following the lamb came bowls of salad, followed by more
large platters, this time holding great chunks of roast pork and
potatoes. This was still not the end. It was followed by fruit, the
cake not appearing until very late at night when many of the guests
had already left.
The father of the bride came to every
table to take a drink with the guests, as did the best man and the
father of the groom, and the bride and groom themselves. They must
have had strong heads indeed to make a toast at each and every table.
Looking around the room I estimated there were about two thousand
guests in attendance.
I was amazed at the amount of crockery
the waiters could carry on the giant trays they carried balanced on
one hand, high over their heads, I was glad that I didn’t work
there.
Even as we were eating the band
started up. It was a typical Cretan band with Lyra, Laouto and
guitar. After much tuning of their instruments, and screeching and
twiddling with the sound system, the band started to play. The first
music we heard was a traditional wedding song, followed by a dance
led by the bride and groom. The groom danced only a few steps before
sitting down again, but the bride was expected to continue dancing,
as many of the guests wanted to dance with her, tossing money to the
band when they had finished their turn at leading the dance. This
first dance continued for about half an hour and at the end of it the
bride sank gratefully into her seat, mopping her forehead with a
handkerchief she had secreted in her bosom.
The music and dancing continued with
special dances for the ‘koumbaros’, family and friends. The music carried
on late into the night with groups of friends taking to the dance
floor and joining in as they felt inclined, every so often a burst of gunfire livened up the proceedings, another local tradition.
"Animated meringues"
How do they do that???
When we left the ‘kendro’ at about 2 in the morning the
celebrating was still going strong, and was expected to continue for
some time. I heard later that the last guests left at about 6am. They certainly know how to enjoy themselves.
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