Wow--a Wedding

On a recent trip to Uzbekistan, our group had finished a day in Samarkand, a large city with amazing monuments. Particularly surrounding Registan Square, there are madrassahs which are stunning in architecture and design. Looking up at the structures is breathtaking. Samarkand was the home of Timur or Tamerlane, the Muslim leader of a renaissance in central Asia.

Madrassah in Registan Square

Our guide, Shadior joked with us that Samerkand was the best city in Uzbekistan, central Asia, and the world! We laughed at his stories, and he took as much as he gave with a great sense of humor. Shadior was our in-country guide, well trained and versed in all things Uzbek. We also had a guide from the tour group, Randall, who was an easygoing, jack-of-all-trades gentleman, a gourmand and wine connosseur. Randall and Shadior were hush-hush about our dinner plans. They said we were "going to a village."

Shadior and his wife at the wedding

We drove about 45 minutes outside of Samarkand through cultivated land and small farms. There were some related commercial establishments, i.e. selling farm equipment. We watched the sun slowly dip down, turning the leaves golden and the sky purple and pink.

The bus slowed, and we were informed that we were going to a wedding; one of Shadior's nephews was to be married that evening. We exclaimed, "Wedding! We are not dressed up. Look at us." Shadior and Randall said, "Not a problem." They went on to explain that the wedding party and guests were looking forward to our visit. I cannot imagine parents of the bride and groom accepting strangers to a wedding in the U.S.A. Furthermore, the Uzbeks would take our pictures, and we could take their's. We would be offered shots of vodka. We were warned to sip not gulp.

When the bus stopped, little girls in fluffy dresses and boys in suits surrounded us with big smiles. We were escorted by them into a hall. There was a receiving line of the bride and groom's family, everyone shimmering and shining. Uzbeks like sparkle. The older women wore head coverings, and their male counterparts donned taquiyahs (skullcaps) and kufis (rounded, fitted caps). I quickly learned that putting my hand on my heart was the appropriate greeting. In these circumstances, I normally bow my head a bit to show respect. The reception hall was built for weddings and other celebrations. Evidently, most villages have these buildings. The decor was Russian-style gold and gilt with chandeliers galore. Each table was set with "gold" candelabras and fancy serving dishes, filled with sweets, nuts, meats, and cheeses. Soda, water, juice, and vodka bottles stood at the center of the rectangular tables. There must have been up to 100 tables, all with white tablecloths, and a carpeted aisle down the center. A similar table set up on stage was reserved for the couple.

Needlless to say, our group felt awkward. No one spoke English except our guide and another nephew.

We smiled and smiled some more, hands on hearts. Slowly, the bravest of the children approached us. They photographed us with their cell phones, and we reciprocated. To calm our nerves, we ate pistachios. Soon the festivities began. The mostly bearded, older men started eating and drinking. We poured our first glasses of vodka.

The bride and groom were solemnly escorted into the large room surrounded by their families. They eventually made it to the stage. Music blared and an announcer talked continuously. The entire proceedings were videoed, so we could watch on a large screen. No kidding--this was an important event. The mothers of the bride and groom weeped. The father of the groom had died recently. An emotional video was shown featuring the father and his son. I forgot to mention--women and men sat separately. Our group sat on the side, gender integrated. There was no evidence of any religious ritual or legal proceedings involved in the ceremonies. The latter involved a great deal of bowing by the young couple to their parents. Later on there was a similar ritual in which the brothers of the bride and groom presented them with red roses. The couple then slowly proceeded down the aisle to the opposite end to present the flowers, on bended knee, to their prospective mothers. Back the couple walked in measured steps to the stage. They did not crack a smile once, talk to anyone, or whisper to one another. The bride weeped, and the groom kept his hand stuck on the left side of his chest for hours. Both were perspiring; but, only the young man got a chance to wipe his brow. The bride wore a white gown with long sleeves, high neck, and a veil secured by a glittery tiara. The groom wore a dark blue suit.

Our group with the wedding party.

Meanwhile, the party got raucous, thanks to the vodka. The children ran around on sugar highs from the free flowing soda, most notably Fanta. I eyed little boys swiping full bottles from adult tables. Then came the dancing. Somehow, I felt gravitated towards the dance floor. As I neared the center of the room, I was pulled into the melee of gyrating women. Though dressed modestly for our standards, the females, young and older, moved seductively, secure in their gestures. With differentiated movements of various parts of their bodies, it was clear that these women could entice. The men danced on their own, doing more acrobatic moves similar to break dancing. The women stole the show. Somehow, I got into the center of the action. I do not know how. It just happened.

Me dancing

I took a short break to gather the brave and shy children. I taught them some Israeli folkdance steps, unbeknownst to anyone. The kids were thrilled! Children are so free; open to new experiences; and soak the love in. Bring it on--share the love! The adults were uninhibited and outgoing in sharing joy. I was high on friendship with strangers. The women found me again, and I danced with them until I could do no more. The older men--dressed in white shirts, vests, and dress pants--tried to escort me to their tables to do shots of vodka. I was a bit concerned, since I knew this was not considered appropriate behavior (for men and women to mix freely). Clueless, I certainly did not want to commit a faux pas.

Dancing with the women was safe. I experienced strong female energy, peppered with competition. In a country and society, which is rapidly modernizing, there are still strict taboos about male/female relations. However, the camaradarie between women is strong and energizing. Due to mixed gender restrictions, women naturally form strong bonds from an early age. One can see women working, socializing, and studying together. The schoolgirls sit close and giggle which is not different from our society. In more westernized countries, young people usually turn to romantic relationships at a certain age. Not so in Uzbekistan where many marriages are still arranged. I did see male/female couples alone in Tashkent, but they could have been married. I feel very sad for the gay and trans people in Uzbekistan. They are hidden. For that matter, so were disabled people. So much progress needs to be made. Notwithstanding many customs I do not adhere to, I love the strong female friendships and bonds that develop in countries where there are less options. I am sure there are problems within households between mothers-in-law and new wives.

By far, the wedding was a high point of my trip and provided a rare chance to nonverbally communicate with people from the other side of the globe. Travel which emphasizes cross cultural experiences enables someone from one type of society to mingle with those who live differently. I know I cherish these opportunities. Clearly, the Uzbeks did too.

©Karen Levi 2025