An Intercultural Wedding to Remember

My friend Liz was getting married, to Dima, another friend. I got the news from the couple in person one day when they came for dinner at my apartment in East Beijing. Dima lives in Tianjin, a short train-ride from the capital. Liz, a Torontite, had flown over for a new-year visit. They’d been doing long distance for a year.

I heard all about how Dima proposed. He’d dragged Liz from a bar mere minutes before the 2012 New Year countdown got underway, promising to show her his “magic trick.” He barreled her up to a nearby hotel room; Liz assumed he fancied a bit of frisky midnight festivity. Turned out he really did have a magic trick; once in the room, he pulled out a paper crane, set it on fire, handed it to Liz and told her to wait. The crane burnt out, and at the cost of only a slightly singed thumb, Liz found herself holding an engagement ring. A nice one, too – a Tiffany number, imported to China from America. She said yes. “Big whoop,” you yawn. “Another wedding story, Call the Press!” you gibe. Well, sure. Point taken. Everyone’s got their own quirky wedding story, and everyone assumes theirs is the best. I’ve heard quite a few good ones myself: bride swears during vows (Australia), photographer trips and lands on cake (America), bride’s father fails to crack open coconut (Sri Lanka – very bad omen, apparently).

Liz and Dima’s wedding didn’t have a cake-tastrophe, rude words or coconuts. Really, it had very little in the way of slapstick humor. It was, nonetheless, one of the most interesting ceremonies I think I’ll ever attend.

See, Dima is Chinese, and speaks no English. His real name isn’t actually “Dima” at all; it’s Han Guoqing. Liz doesn’t speak any Chinese, nor is she learning…

Liz and Dima met while studying Russian in Vladivostok, a gritty port city on Russia’s Pacific coast. “Dima” is the Russian name Guoqing picked out for himself during his first week in Russian school, where I was his classmate. We’ve always called him by his Russian name.

Liz and Dima speak Russian together, though neither speaks it flawlessly. Their kids will either be triumphantly trilingual, or very confused.

They decided to get hitched exactly a year after Dima’s proposal – on New Year’s Eve, 2013. The wedding was to be in Tianjin, and that was all I knew about it until I arrived at the ceremony, with two mutual friends.

We’d had great fun in the weeks leading up to the service speculating as to what form it would take. Would it be held in Chinese, English or Russian? If it were in Russian neither side’s family would understand a word. If in Chinese, Liz’s family, flying in from America, would be in the dark. Same for the groom’s family if English prevailed. And would it be a Chinese-style wedding? Or a Western one? A Russian? Probably not Russian, we reasoned; neither had flirted with Russia’s Orthodox religion while studying abroad. Liz is actually Jewish; would we be seeing glass breaking and the Hora “chair dance” making an appearance?

Initially, signs pointed to Chinese. Guests were seated at big, round tables with Lazy Susans in the middle. A Chinese feast would follow the service. Double happiness Xi posters were plastered all over the hall, and red was very much the color of choice among the guests.

The bride and groom-to-be soon entered. Liz had donned a red Qipao, a traditional one-piece Chinese dress, and a gaitou, or red bridal veil. Dima wore a Western-style suit.

The ceremony began. Conducting it was a young Chinese lady, presumably a relative, who nervously giggled her way through an opening address. It was all in Chinese, though the Anglophones present were aided by a PowerPoint presentation on a giant screen behind the stage giving a running English commentary. Liz couldn’t see it, so Dima helped her follow along with quiet Russian whispers.

Proceedings continued in the Chinese tradition. The couple’s parents were invited to sit on the stage; Dima and Liz bowed to them three times and gave thanks. For their prostrations, they received several fat hongbao – red envelopes containing money.