Reflections
My first visit to Rhodes was in 1970 with a friend, we arrived on a ferry from Piraeus which is, undoubtedly, the best way to do it, assuming that is, that one can survive the rigours of deck accommodation, not the most comfortable means of travel, especially at 02H00, the Aegean is not at it's warmest in the wee hours!! However, let us not forget that I was all of 22 at the time and more than capable (??) of withstanding the horrors of travelling with sea-sick fellow travellers, not to forget the livestock et al!!
As we approached Rhodes, the pair of us all but fell overboard in our excitement, in amongst sighs and ooh and aahing and comments such as: "A little bit of heaven must have fallen out of the sky and this has to be it!" We spent 5 glorious days here, declaring with great abandon that we would be back! Little did I know it would be as soon as 2 years later accompanied by my parents, being the seasoned traveller in Greece by this time, I told them after visiting other islands that the piece de la resistance was saved for last!
To cut a looooong story short, I met the requisite, mythical Greek god who from now on, shall be referred to as Zorba (I shall call myself Shirley, yes quite correct, as in Valentine) as I have no wish to embarrass any overly sensitive friends and/or family, or horrors, maybe even divulge some incriminating evidence!
After a contretemps with my parents and the future petheros over the thorny issue of the "prika", resulting in my extremely mild and gentle father becoming very mouthy and telling said father-in-law that in our native South Africa, we did not indulge in the buying and selling of flesh, to which f-i-l insisted that it was the custom, father countered immediately with "We also have customs in our country but that isn't one of them!", father of hubby-to-be realised he wasn't going anywhere with the xenos so best bow out gracefully!
I arrived, with parents in tow, 3 months before the "big day", having decided before we left SA that there was absolutely no way on earth that I was going to be the original "Big fat Greek bride" complete with Barbie creation requiring 50 metres of lace, tulle and froth, not to forget diamante tiara perched atop my blonde hair!! A classic Vogue original pattern for me which I could wear in 40 years time and not look ridiculous! I must mention that I had elected mother to make the dress, you can imagine our consternation when the container arrived 10 days before "D" day!!!! Definitely brought new meaning to "panic stations"!
To digress for a moment, it was fashionable in those days (1973 to be precise), for Greek brides to wear, wait for it, artificial flowers in a pom-pom hanging on a longish ribbon!! Say no more, I was not having any of that! I had seen just exactly what I wanted in a magazine in SA which could not have been simpler, a large chrysanthemum in the centre with petals separated and "feathered" down in a crescent shape. Mistake number one, I foolishly left the description underneath the photo (I mean any florist worth his/her salt would have been able to create this oh so easy bouquet in a flash!), Zorba accompanied me to the florist (I think in that era there were only about 2 on the island!) to act as translator. After explanations had taken place, in fine style, we were informed: "No problem!" A lesson was about to be learnt - NEVER take anything, especially when it's attached to "No problem", for granted!
Zorba understandably, was very keen to learn what his dearly beloved was going to look like at the gamos, I skirted around the issue not wanting to divulge too much, he was predictably disappointed that I was not planning on looking like bimbo so proceeded to tell me that "Your dress, she will look like a night dress ne?" Instant hysteria and wedding all but called off!!!! Zorba immediately in a great state over what he had said to upset his beautiful bride-to-be, mother (mine) had to be called upon to mediate to diffuse the tension. I was then sharply castigated for being so incredibly stupid as to not realise that soon to be son-in-law meant "evening dress" - a tad more acceptable. Lesson number 2 was quickly learnt - Zorba's English was not perfect and to him, what the heck difference is there between "night" and "evening", therefore accept that there are going to be times when the language barrier will come into play!
Two or three days prior to THE day, Zorba suggested that we go back to the florist to check all was in order! "Of course, only slight problem, chrysanthemum she not available, we take dahlia!" Okay, one of those things, could be worse, so be it!
As Zorba's father was away at sea, we decided to keep it low key and decided to have the reception at our home, more in the SA tradition with fruit cake etc. As we were "scheduled" (we were talking English time here, not GMT - Greek Maybe Time!) to tie the knot at at 5 p.m., champagne and snacks were to be the order of the day. I had asked fiance if, amongst the myriad of cousins etc., he could rake up someone who was about to get married in order that I could see just exactly what went on at an Orthodox service. No such luck! I then agonised over the "vows" bit - would the church arrange a translator so that I knew when to say what? A look of total incredulity appeared on Zorba's face and I was then told the couple did not say one word - the priest does it all! Okay, sounds fine to me. Next bombshell was about to be dropped! I suggested that as Evangelismos had a long aisle maybe my father and I should practice his "giving away" bit to make him feel more at ease! "What?" Ah, the great discovery was about to be made, poor father was about to be denied the pleasure of giving his beloved daughter away! Dear Daddy, never mind, we will still drive together to the church, he was slightly mollified!
Finally, the great day dawns! Bear in mind that we were married at the end of June, "the" wedding gown had long sleeves and a high neck - yet another mistake as I all but fainted in the church, what with the intense heat and the incense! However, to get back to the order of events. Mother and friend whom I had been to Rhodes with the first time, disappeared to have their hair done, brother who had flown out from SA to see his little sister leave the nest, had accompanied them to do whatever the brother of the bride needs to do, leaving a highly charged and extremely nervous Shirley, with father.
Doorbell rings, I open it, florist with bouquet!! I should have realised then, it could only be downhill all the way!!! What appeared before me was the smallest white dahlia ever grown, with 4 quill-like white feathers (you will recall that in a moment of temporary insanity, I had left description of "feathered chrysanthemum" attached to photo - literal meaning - you get the idea?) attached in a north, south, east and westerly direction, to the miniscule flower!! The best is yet to come!! Said feathers were attached to the dahlia by means of emerald green crinkle paper!!!!! Whatever picture you conjure up in your mind, believe me, was mild in comparison to what it really looked like!!! I was then informed that it must be placed in the "deep freeze"!
Poor father, he was assailed by this hysterical female who gave new meaning to "a great wailing and gnashing of teeth!" He had to wait for what seemed like eternity for mother and co. to return (about an hour), I then proceeded to open the freezer to see this by now, fast wilting white flower turning brown with green paper covered in water marks!!! Florist meant "fridge" not "deep freeze" and yes, I was totally blonde, common sense did not prevail!!!
Fortunately I was blessed with the most practical of all mothers who calmly said: "There, there, all is not lost, we'll get you a white Bible and place an orchid on it!" More floods of tears, I mean let us be realistic here, where at short notice (that being a couple of hours) does one find a white Bible on an island in 1973??? You are dead right, it wasn't going to happen!!! Completely undaunted by the task ahead, mother, friend and brother tore off at breakneck speed to Mandraki to find some flowers in order that the blushing bride could have her bouquet!
My friend told me afterwards that my dear mother embarrassed her and my brother to such a degree as she saw some hen-and-chicken (ribbon grass) in a travel agency window in Cyprus Square, sailed in and told the manager she wanted it for her daughter's wedding! Apparently the poor fellow looked at my mother with a "what else can you expect from an xeni" look and said "Help yourself!" They managed to beg, borrow or the other thing from where-ever they could, came home and my friend, who has never in her life ever done floral work, with a bit of help from me, created a stunning bouquet - something about necessity being the mother of invention!
Eventually we were ready to head off to the church - nobody had told me beforehand that the journey is accompanied by a cacophony of blaring motor car hooters!! I was mortified and long suffering father patted my hand and said "My dear, don't worry, nobody knows you’re here, you can emerge from under the seat!"
Another surprise was about to rear it's head - where I come from, it is totally unheard of for the groom to keep the bride waiting at the church, but hey - Ellada ine, things operate a little differently!!
Having got past the indignity of having to wait for the groom whose family managed to have a barrage of sound that easily rivalled Handel's Royal Fireworks accompanying the arrival of the firstborn son, we finally made it to the altar without further ado!
I have to admit that I always felt cheated that no there was no Wagner's Bridal March and Mendelssohn's Wedding March for us foreigners, such an integral part of the wedding procession and most brides' ultimate dream!
Watch this space for the next thrilling instalment - the naming of our sons!!!!
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