Scenes from An Indonesian Wedding

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One of the most exciting invitations when you are traveling are those that really make you a part of the culture, a spur of the moment activity that you seize the chance to get involved with and perhaps step outside your comfort zone (if you even have one anymore after years of traveling).

That is exactly how I ended up dressing in a traditional Indonesia sarong one morning.

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After we returned from visiting Kelimutu, the owner of our hostel told us that his sister was getting married in the morning and that we could go to the wedding; he would not be going, he added, because he was not fond of the man she was marrying (or so he said).

It sounded like a great idea, but the next morning I sat down at my computer to start writing and found myself falling into a trance. On the rare occasion that I can sit down for hours on end in one day and get a significant amount of work done in one go, I hate to stop and ruin the vibe I have going. And I felt like this was going to be that kind of productive day.

I debated on going to the wedding, asked what the ceremony would be like and how long it would be; just then, a procession came down the street. Everyone in the town started filing into the roads in their best dress.

So I decided to join the party.

This was one long, long ceremony in a language I did not understand. The church was hot – really, really hot – and the pews were backless, which made for a very uncomfortable two and a half hours or so.

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Much like a ceremony back home, the bride was dressed entirely in white; she wore a sparkling tiara and vail adorned with flower-detail atop her head, long white gloves ran from her wrist to her elbow and a princess-like wedding dress that was big enough to fit a family of 27 people under it. The groom also wore white, from his shoes

They sat on these plastic white lawn chairs that were draped with tapestries, and alongside them sat the mother and father of the bride – at least I think. No one spoke enough English to answer any questions for me, and by the time I got back to the hostel I was running to catch the bus onward to another town.

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I will admit, I felt slightly awkward and out of place taking photographs of the wedding.

Additionally, I felt strange taking photos of someone’s wedding whom I don’t know, so I tried to be polite and respectful by taking a few pictures from a distance.

Yet I have since realized it would have been no issue at all had I even decided to stand next to the bride throughout the ceremony to get the best shots.

I have never seen something so invasive in my life as when the couple was giving their being blessed and exchanging their rings – those at the ceremony were taking photos with their phones so close they must have managed to get all the pores on the bride’s and the groom’s faces.

It was such an intimate moment, but it was almost as if it was a circus act for all to join in on.

When we left the church, little snack packs of water and fresh baked goods were handed out.

It took a very long time for the bride and groom to exit the church, which left me to be the celebrity of the event. Everyone and their mother at the ceremony wanted a picture with me.

Though I have no record of these moments, I did manage to snap a quick shot of my friend who also attended the wedding and stood out like a sore thumb, especially in group photo shoots that he was dragged into.

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But when they finally did exit, the band started playing as they were whisked off into their wedding car and drove away from the scene.

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A last-minute invitation to a wedding is traveling at its best.

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