Welcomed In

In addition to being my in-laws, Chao and Lek have become good friends this past year. So it was especially easy to feel comfortable at their wedding. Most everything took place above the bookshop that Lek and her father run in a medium-sized town a couple of hours east of Bangkok. When I first walked in, I expected the usual formalities: scurrying for extra chairs, offers of hot drinks along with the standard glass of water, maybe some fish snacks.

But I didn’t count on the warmth of the smile on Lek’s father’s face, as he came forward to greet me. I was reminded of our old friend from the refugee camp days, Papa Louis: the two hands outstretched in a sort of “handshake hug,” the sparkling eyes fed by classic creases, the gift of making everyone feel as though they are the only ones in the room. I will remember that welcome most of all.

The next morning, Chao’s side of the family all gathered down the street from the bookshop, for the groom parade. I really enjoy this custom, in which the groom acts as a kind of suitor, backed by his supporters, who traditionally would be arriving from a neighboring village. A good yodeler brings up the rear, leading cheers that announce to passersby that an appeal for marriage is being made.

(Jip chose to rely on my after-the-fact descriptions, rather than contend with all the unfamiliar voices and obstacles of a fast-paced event like a wedding. She says that if they ever throw a small party in the city, for others like her who couldn’t make it to a mid-week event in the provinces, she’ll make an appearance.)

Once the parade reaches the bride’s front door, traditionally a few pretend obstacles are put up to block the path. A groom must use his wits, and perhaps a few clever bribes, to get past the barriers. Once he succeeds, in essence he is married. No pronouncing by a priest, or smashing of wine glasses—just acceptance by the bride’s father that the visitor is worthy, and can stay.