Her pale dewy face appeared frozen for the camera as fawning friends queued out the room, waiting for their precious moment with the cynosure of the hour. After being ushered into the picture room, I was taken aback by the onslaught of glistening that speckled off her dress. The bride was resolutely wonderful, serene. I bowed and greeted her, already mystified, but she simply maintained her pleasant gaze at the camera. I expect I had been one in a long line of guests she wasn’t sure she had met before or not. A picture was snapped, felicitations were given and that was my turn over.
I was ushered back out by my friend, the bride’s niece, who would serve to be my guide through the strange ‘meandering between worlds’ the ensuing ceremony would come to be.
There were only a few minutes left before the ceremony would begin and over a hundred people loitered around, chatting to one another as if waiting for the theatre doors to open and for the play to begin. As soon as it did, my friend and her sister helped me to pass the myriad crowds into the convention hall where we would hope to find a seat. The hall had high ceilings from which dazzling gems hung like rain, in a waving arrangement and the aisle was embellished by big white pom-pom flowers. The decoration was both elaborate but plain and colourless.
By some mishap, we got lost on our way to find our assigned seats and to my surprise, the bride had now begun her walk of honour down the aisle. This most resplendent and meaningful moment, and her guests were not even all in the room yet! And where was the flower girl? The bridesmaids and the groomsmen? Did it all happen before I could notice?
Women in inconspicuous black outfits smoothed out her dress behind her as she approached the altar and we finally found our seats.
The father of the bride had, just as is done in Western style weddings, given the bride away. She wore a Western style gown, white and protruding from her waist in many puffy layers and a petite tiara which haloed her angelic air. The officiator, dressed in a suit, read Christian passages from the bible. So far, the procession was pretty Western, but everything else was less so.
All around people snapped pictures and the guests hovering at the back of the room still made a commotion. But it didn’t seem to irk anyone. Though the bride was the centrepiece, her guests were not at the heel of her biddings. She was part of a schedule, which my friend had hastily handed me, forgetting how most of the Korean would certainly be lost on me.
I of course thought of the Western wedding, and how the bride would be like a Princess for a day. I recalled sentiments from movies that this moment, as her mother would always tell her as a child, would be the most precious of her life. Sisters and mothers would weep, brothers and fathers would give dignified pats on the groom's back. The room would gaze on in silent anticipation at this beautiful coming together of two people, whose love was transcendent enough for them to meld into one unit.
There was, however, on this bride’s face, a sort of gloss. It was pleasant and happy, but it seemed to always be waiting for a picture. And there was of course no tear shedding, or dignified pats. Though this ceremony was following the Western aesthetic, the sentiments and feelings of the participants were rooted in Eastern proclivities; the proclivity to follow a routine.
Placed either side of the altar just in front of the guest tables were two white circular rugs upon which sat two very chic velvet armchairs. These were designated for the parents of the bride and groom. They wore traditional Korean Hanbok which was quite the anachronism, given their blatantly modern surroundings. But, as my guide informed me, the parents would later be the centrepieces for a second more traditional ceremony which only close family members could attend. So this was all for show?
After the vows were read and the few slots for colleagues to sing songs were finished, the ceremony was over. Not even 20 minutes had passed. Upon exiting, I saw another crowd of over 100 people awaiting the next ceremony. Efficiency seemed to be the name of this game. The pom-pom adorned aisle may as well have been a conveyor.
Though it was short and sweet, for me the experience was rich in offerings of insights into this nuanced culture. Korea’s identity seems to sit in a rocket which launched itself through an economic and technological revolution in the 90s. As my colleagues have informed me, this meant that the transition from old Confucian ways to a globalised information age happened so quick, that often elements of Korean culture are like an overlapping of worlds.
Admittedly, the efficiency of everything in Korean life has undoubtedly been one of the best things about living in the country. It’s extremely convenient to have all trains and buses arrive on time, and packages to be delivered sometimes within a day. It’s also a sign of a hard-working, industrious work-force that cares for their collective. There is certainly a moment of culture shock though when efficiency becomes pervasive and its invocation into what I would consider a very meaningful moment such as a wedding.
I met with the bride and groom again later during the meal, now wearing their traditional hanbok. They seemed happy and thanked me for coming. As the family talked among each other in Korean, I reflected that undoubtedly, the moment was meaningful to them in their own way. Though I sit on the outside peering in to this culture, trying to pick up on any Korean I might understand, I muse on the notion that love will always be universal, whether it be between 2 people, 2 families or for the greater collective.