priya tuli's randombloggz

Ahh, beautiful island of Crete! There I was, in Iraklio, a stone's throw from historic Knossos. But no, I wasn't checking out Daedalus's fine handiwork and getting lost in the labyrinth, sans fair Ariadne's ball of twine to see me safely through. No Minotaur was chasing me around the block, and no Greek-god-like youths were being offered up for sacrifice in my honour. Sigh.

Instead, I was to officiate at a friend's wedding, as witness. It actually happened by default, as you will see a couple of paragraphs down. Even so, that technically made me a 'koumbara', the Greek version of a bridesmaid. But boohoo. It was not a Big Fat Greek Wedding, just a Small, Skinny Registered one. As it turned out, I nearly ended up being the key player in what could have turned into a classic Greek Tragedy.

My Greek friend, whom I shall refer to as 'Babis', to protect his identity, was marrying a Frenchwoman, whom I shall call 'Vera', to protect her identity.

Now, anybody who's ever had a registered civil ceremony knows how complex it is to pull it all together without any glitches. The Magistrate demands all sorts of stuff, including birth certificates, proof of identity, Best of Show certificates from the Kennel Club, wrappers from all the chocolates you've consumed in the last 6 months, the serial number of your computer and the pin code for your ATM cards. Oh, and your preferred brand of toilet paper.

And that's if you're both the same nationality.

When you're from different countries, well, it gets slightly more irrational. Firstly, each Government has different requirements, so what if both countries have now been swallowed whole by the EU... drachmae, French francs and all. Burp! Ergo, the better part of 6 months were spent lobbing required bits of paper between Athens, Paris, Iraklio; Paris, Iraklio, Athens; Iraklio, Paris, Athens... you get the drift.

Finally, with all the paperwork in order, the date was set and family/witnesses informed. Vera's parents, brother and sister-in-law duly arrived from Paris 5 days ahead of the appointed date. An ex-girlfriend of Babis, who was to be his witness, came in from Glasgow with her 8 year old daughter. It was now officially 'wedding time'!

There were beach trips and swimming in the sea, there were lazy afternoons at the taverna, and late nights when everybody segued into party mode, and then 3 days before the wedding, when Babis went in to the Town Hall just to make sure all is as it should be, guess what? Of course, it's not! There should have been an insertion in the local newspapers a week before, announcing the ceremony, they say. The newspaper clipping is a crucial part of the registry process, they say. Without it, no wedding, they say. These are the rules, what can we do.

The quintessential Greek Tragedy was rapidly building up to Plot Point II. This was already a Friday, so the whole business with the newspaper insertion could only happen on Monday. The Registrar was unable to give a date the following week, so the ceremony had to be postponed for 2 weeks.

"So what does this mean, no wedding?!?" Gulp. It was hot and tempers began to fray. Babis didn't stand a chance. Vera's brother and family could not stay on another 2 weeks; the bridesmaid had to leave on Tuesday and so yes, without the witnesses, this meant no wedding. Let's just leave the ensuing chaos and drama to the imagination; next day, 3/4ths of the (un)wedding party left to go back home as scheduled.

Vera's parents decided to stay on until the wedding, which would be who knows when?! Babis and Vera learned to cope with their joint homicidal tendencies until the newspaper announcement finally appeared, a week later. Vera's friend JJ from Paris agreed to fly out to be her witness on the rescheduled day. So now, the heat was on for Babis to find a 'koumbara'.

At it happened, I was traveling to Crete for a workshop during that time. My one free day was coincidentally the 24th, so of course, I offered to be Babis' witness. It was decided; I would give up a day trip to historic Knossos in order to be his 'koumbara'. I would take the 4-hour bus ride into Iraklio the night before, and take morning bus back the day after, to rejoin the workshop.

But wait... a small problem! The morning of the wedding, we're due at the Town Hall in 2 hours, Vera is in the shower and Babis asks me for my passport.

Me: "Oh? I didn't bring it, why?"

Babis: "WHATTT?!?"

Me: "I left it locked up in Xania because they said be careful not to lose it, pickpockets and stuff! What do you need it for?"

Babis: "THEY need it for identification for you to be my witness!!!"

Me: "WHA?!? OH! MY! GOD! Why didn't you TELL MEEEEEEEE???"

Babis: "But I asked you on the phone last week!!!"

Me: "You asked me, 'Do you have a passport?', so I said yes of course I do, what a silly question! You didn't tell me BRING it!"

We stare at each other in disbelief.

We wail in unison, as if on cue: "Oh skataaaaaa. SHITSHITSHIT!!!"

Vera from the shower: "Allo? What's going on out there?"

Babis: "Shhh, we better not tell her!"

Me, whispering: "OMG. Wait. I have an old ID card from work. I have credit cards with my picture on them. We better call the Registrar. OMG. We better DO something."

Babis: "Shit, maybe this is a sign, you know, maybe I shouldn't be getting married! Everything is going wrong since the beginning, one delay after another... "

Me: "grrrrrrrrrrrrrSHADDUP!!!"

Anyway, we are finally all showered and dressed, and along with our merry little crisis, we head off to the Town Hall. Babis and I are snippy and snarly, like a couple of Dobermanns. Vera is ominously silent. The parents and JJ are thankfully still oblivious of the drama to ensue.

To cut a long story short, after much explaining and pleading and cajoling, the Registrar miraculously agrees to conduct the ceremony without my passport. BUT, they will need to do some final paperwork first. Could we wait half an hour? We want to tell them we'll wait as long as they want us to, a week, a month, a couple of years, just as long as they DO it.

So we wait. Babis is hamming it up, gibbering, "No, no no! I don't want to get married!" in the corner. We ignore him. JJ is taking pictures. Vera's Dad is speaking to me in French, which I don't understand. I am replying in English, which he doesn't understand. The Registrar comes in and does his thing. Vera is laughing, she doesn't speak Greek and Babis is mis-translating everything and throwing in innuendoes that could not possibly be originating with the Registrar. JJ is rolling his eyes. Vera's Mama is trying to concentrate on the ceremony but looks close to giving up.

15 minutes later, we heave a collective sigh of relief... it's finally done! And we walk out into the blinding Greek sunshine. Babis and Vera are now Mr and Mrs Kandris. I am legally a 'koumbara'. Vera dubs us the United Colours of Benetton, we are Greek, French, Afro-french, Indian. We head off to the best Cretan taverna in town, and we're lucky to have the whole place to ourselves.

They sing us a wonderful traditional Cretan wedding song. I write the words down on a napkin, which is still lurking around somewhere in my immediate environment, waiting to be exhumed and converted into bloggz, whoknowswhen. We toast each other with ouzo, eat a lot, laugh a lot and then head down to the beach for the rest of the afternoon, where Vero proceeds to sunbathe topless, with Babis encouraging her to drop the bottom as well. What a surreal end to a surreal wedding day! But for tonight, it's XRONIA POLLAAA to Babis and Vero, exactly one year and one day after the wedding J Filakia polla!

Randomfacts: 1. Till one day before the wedding, Babis and I had never met in person; 2. the Cretan wedding song was actually more like a bawdy bar song with little left to the imagination; 3. I have actually lost the napkin on which I wrote an ouzo-influenced translation....