The night of the wedding was a cool 25 degrees weather (77 F) and the guests were gathering in the open courtyard of the restaurant after a walk up some very unimpressive stairs. At the top of the stairs to the right stood a safe with a slit at the top that acted as the bank into which guests were expected to drop an envelope with money. If they did not bring an envelope for the occasion, some were provided a few steps down on a landing at a small table. Bringing money to a wedding is a normal gesture in Israel (and in Russian speakers' culture as well). Guests are expected to contribute slightly more than what they think is the cost of the dinner service at the restaurant they have been invited to. When the dinner service starts, a close friend of the family will be sitting next to the safe, guarding it, for the remainder of the evening.
After the guests have been hugged and greeted by the family who are at the top of the stairs for that purpose and have been since 7:30pm, they head towards other groups of people they know or to the hors d'œuvres tables set up on either side of the open courtyard or the open bar on the right and in the back. The selection of appetizers that evening was from all over the world--almost as if it was meant to represent the people who have gathered there for the wedding. The bride's side of the family are Russian speakers who have immigrated to Israel in mid 90's and their friends have come from different parts of the world to celebrate with them. There are people from Russia and Kazakhstan, from Germany and Greece, from the US and Ukraine. It's a fun reunion evening for most of them and that's what I see as I walk around and take it all in--old friends, smiling faces, group photos, and loud, jubilant conversations. Across from the restaurant doors, with two beautifully decorated, glass pathways leading up to it, is the stairway leading up to the hupah. The decorators did a stunning job--the blue of the dusky sky is reflecting in the glass of the pathway lit up from underneath, the white lilies shimmer atop the dimmed fluorescence and the fabric of the hupah is tied at various points as if flowing. It's all set and now we just wait for the time to come, the music to die down, the rabbi to enter and the families to follow. The groom and the bride enter last preceded by two little angels in white who carefully toss flower petals as they lead the couple up to the glass steps, along the pathway and to the foot of the stairways and up to the hupah gazebo. The camera man and the video man hover in front of the family and the couple and make it impossible to capture any meaningful photos during the service. I snap them anyways, but mostly try and follow the ritual in a language I don't understand. The bride and groom get covered in a prayer shawl and in a few minutes time, the glass is broken and shouts of "Mazal Tov" fill the air around me. The couple and their family now joins the crowd as each guest waits to hug either the bride or the groom, personally wish them happiness and love and then head for the restaurant doors and try and find their designated seats. The party is about to start.
The tables are preset with salads, appetizers and breads. I am sharing mine with a close friend, a cousin, a couple with a child that we don't know, and another stranger who is at the wedding alone and whom we quickly befriend with our first toast to the couple. I put a couple of salads on my plate as the newlyweds come onto the dance floor for the first dance. They have been preparing for weeks--they picked out three songs: the slow, the tango and the salsa. I rush up to the dance floor and capture it all on camera. When I get back to the table my plate with the untouched salads is gone. The waiter claims I wasn't eating and he got upset. I should eat, he tells me through a Hebrew speaking friend because I am too skinny. If I promise to eat, he will give me a plate. I tell him I will eat. My plate disappears with food a couple more times during the evening. That is the fate of most diners' plates that evening. The dinner service started at around 9:30pm and they need to get all the courses out as well as dessert before 11 or 11:30. Most Israeli weddings finish before midnight. Most of them also take place on a weeknight because they are all religious (there are no civil marriages in Israel) and so cannot be performed from Friday to Saturday sundowns. The restaurants expect to be done by midnight and guests expect to be gone before that, hence the rush on dinner service, which did not for me dampen the spirit of the evening.
There was a lot of dancing in between the eating and both sides of the family enthusiastically took to the floor whenever prompted by the MC. There were no toasts given, probably to conserve on the time and no bouquets thrown (though that does sometimes happen, my friend says she just forgot hers in the ante room). I along with some close friends and family were the last people in the restaurant at 11:30pm after the quickest two hours I can remember ever experiencing. It all just flew by in a flurry of lights, music, smiles, glass clinking, vodka pouring and quick eating. At the end of the night, we were sitting at an empty table close to the dance floor--all other tables including the one we ate at were cleared off already, only the tall candle holders as center pieces remaining. A friend called over our waiter and asked him to bring us, the last 6 or so guests, a bottle of red wine, and we toasted the last toast of the evening as we watched the bride dance her last dance of the night with a group of close friends. In 10 minutes we were all outside, sorting out our rides, wishing each other "good nights" and "laila tovs" and with smiles on our faces, heading in different directions into the 25 degree, breezy night.
The set up
The groom pulls back the veil before heading up to the hupah.
Odnoklassniki (classmates)
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