Cambodian Nuptials

I was wearing a pair of worn black pants, a bright pink polo shirt and flip flops. Somehow, it didn’t seem like appropriate dress for a Cambodian wedding. Yet in less than two hours I was to be on the back of my co-worker’s motorbike, off to celebrate the nuptials of my boss’s nephew. I wandered around the market after work, hoping I would find a wedding attire stall. Finally I struck up a conversation with a young woman selling clothes, CDs, luggage and wood carvings. She helped me pick out a floor-length pink skirt and a beaded top, and even loaned me her shoes for the evening. Most wedding guests wore dresses that took weeks to sew by hand, but she assured me that no one would think too badly of me since I was a foreigner.

I was the only white girl in a room of four hundred. Children craned their necks to spy on me as platters of food were set down and whisked away as quickly as they came. To the amazement of the children, I tried everything in front of me, from fish heads to fried crickets. A hush pulsed through the room as guests devoured more than six courses of food, the only sounds loud chewing and my chopsticks occasionally tumbling to the floor.

After we ate, the dancing began. Khmer dance, however, is nothing like your sweaty, hip-swinging middle school party. Young girls spend several painful hours each day with their wrists tied backwards in order to achieve the graceful bend that characterizes Khmer Apsara dancing. Motions are precise and graceful. My friends showed me how to swirl my hands to express the emotion and story of the song, rocking slowly back and forth on my heels as we tiptoed around the room.

As the lights twinkled on at the end of the night, we made our way to congratulate the bride and groom one last time before heading home. They were laughing and hugging, just like any other bride and groom in any other country in the world. Sometimes we aren’t as different as we think.