Tonight we got invited to a Filipino wedding. We didn't know the bride or groom, but the village we live in is pretty small so I guess decided to invite the foreigners to celebrate, too. A great idea, in my opinion.
Our team busted out makeup for the occasion, which is a BIG deal. This only happens like once or twice a month. Although we put on our best clothes, we felt embarrassed that they wouldn't be up to wedding standards. To put it in perspective, even in my Saturday-night best I was wearing a sports bra and crocs. (In my humble defense, they're fancy crocs. The kind of crocs you can sip a martini in with your pinky up. It'll happen one day… When I start liking martinis) We weren't really concerned, though. We were so excited to go to the wedding that no undergarment or shoe discrepancy could hold us back.
We walked into the reception and the emcee announced our arrival over the speaker. What? Yes. We were announced. Pressure's on. We were escorted to a long table where we were served a traditional Filipino meal of various meat concoctions, chop suey and lots o' white sticky rice. Achey Breaky Heart came over the speaker, and I felt like I was back in Fort Worth for a hot second. We're in The Philippines. Why on earth would they play that song? I don't know. But there are some things you just roll with. So we swallowed our rice and sang along.
After the meal, they made room for the dance floor. Ah, dance floor. Two of my favorite words in the English language. It was lined with chairs, so we all took a seat. Little did we know, we had just volunteered ourselves for one heck of a Filipino tradition.
Throughout the entire wedding, the couple basically tries to get as much money as possible. Each monetary gift is announced over the loud speaker, which makes for a lot of awkwardness in my opinion. The couple also has a dance in which it's customary for guests to come up and pin money to the bride's veil or the groom's shirt. The money dance. Guests also have to pay for a piece of wedding cake, fun fact. Later on, in order to dance the men pay the price named at the beginning of a song, and then they get to pick their girl from the ripe selection sitting on the perimeter of the dance floor. Yep, we were sitting there.
I got asked to dance a good amount. I love dancing, so I was game. The whole dance floor scene was hilarious because the Filipinos there genuinely danced like middle schoolers: the no-rhythm sway with hands on hips, hands arounds shoulders, no eye contact and forced minimal conversation. Oh, don't forget to seal the deal with a handshake. Anyway, the men paid for me to dance, so I figured I would adapt to their way.
One guy asked me to dance twice. Another guy pointed out his wife to me. One guy said zero words. And then there was Donald.
He was a great conversationalist, taller than the average Filipino, and held me closer than the others. As we middle-school swayed, he started asking me a series of questions, all of which I answered with relative ease. Then he asked me one that I couldn't answer: Will you marry me?
I laughed. Real hard. He asked me why I was laughing. Oh, wait — he's not kidding? I got pretty awkward. He got pretty serious.
I explained to him that I had only been in the Philippines for 4 days. He didn't care, and asked me to consider the offer. Donald asked if my mother was here, I assume for permission-asking purposes. Or, now that I think about it, maybe it was to scope out what I would look like 35 years down the road. When I told him she was in the United States, he was intent on finding out when she'd be coming to The Philippines. Sorry Donald, she's staying in Texas. When I told my dad the story, he was offended that he wasn't even considered in the permission process.
So, I've got that going for me, which is nice. If I want to stay on the island of Mindoro for the remainder of my life, I've got a pretty feasible offer, I believe. We were the last ones on the dance floor, and he told me he hoped to see me again. He squeezed my hands. I swallowed my giggles, as well as my pride, and did the smile-and-nod routine.
Marriage proposals aside, I am loving it here in the Philippines. However – Donald, if you're reading this, I'm not quite ready to make that commitment yet. Maybe by the end of the month I'll be looking for reasons to stay. We'll see — I'll keep you posted.
We've been invited to another wedding this weekend, so I've got high hopes for more fun stories to come.
Cheers to Filipino men, fancy crocs, and the middle-school sway,
Darcie
