Volunteer Nicole Sheets finds the ‘Wedding party’ more than just ceremony accessory in Moldova
‘Wedding party’ more than just ceremony accessory in Moldova
By NICOLE SHEETS - Moldova column
In Moldova, people speak of "wedding parties" instead of just "weddings," which I assumed was some mistake in translation until I actually went to one.
The wedding ceremony itself isn’t the focus of the festivities; it can be a small, understated event leading up to the wedding party proper, usually an all-night celebration.
My first wedding party here was an international affair, between a Peace Corps volunteer who lived with my Mitoc host family three summers ago and a charming Moldovan man (he called me "Doamna Nicole Kidman" the entire evening -- what’s not to like?). The bride and I both visit our village host family fairly often, giving us a kind of expatriate sisterhood.
The Mitoc family rented a rutierra to go to the wedding party in Baltsi, a city in the north. The van was filled with the extended host family of the bride: the boys enduring dress shirts and slacks, 15-year-old Natasha poised in her high heels and new haircut, Rodica, a friend of the family, balancing a delicate pyramid of teacups and saucers on her lap and my host mom, Nina, keeping the bucket of fresh-cut roses and carnations upright.
Like any big, fat Moldovan holiday, weddings involve several courses of food, this one including chicken pieces wrapped in bright blue napkins like legwarmers and a fish dish artfully displayed with the head and tail attached and olives for eyes. Fortunately, all this heavy table-grazing is punctuated by dancing and toasting and more dancing.
Until that night, I had never seen my host parents cut a rug. Right before I arrived in Moldova last June, my host father’s mother died. Tradition dictates, among other things, a year of mourning, meaning a seriously subdued social life. But the year has passed, and they were in fine form.
It was later in the evening, after dessert, when I first saw Mama Nina cry, too, turning to my host dad’s shoulder to drop a few tears.
On the ride back to the village, I put my head on the purse in Mama Nina’s lap, waking each time the van stopped for a registration check by the traffic police. It was 4 a.m. when we got to Mitoc, light already bleaching the night sky. The grapevines at the front gate greeted us at this house I have come to think of as home.
Nicole Sheets is a Barboursville native and Peace Corps volunteer in Moldova. Her e-mail address is moldovanicole@yahoo.com. Her column appears on the Life page the first Sunday of each month.
