No one parties like the Armenians...

This past Thanksgiving long weekend (for all us Canadians out there), Mr. and I headed to Cambridge, Ontario for a wedding on the ever popular October 10, 2010 (10-10-10). The groom was a former colleague of Mr., and we were delighted to have been invited.

The wedding ceremony was conducted by the groom's father with the majority being spoken in Armenian. The Armenian Evangelical Church was swollen with people and we were lucky enough to have arrived fairly early to find seats. It was the typical ideal day and ceremony... beautiful bride... handsome and nervous groom sweating profusely... and lots of sunshine and love in the air.

At the conclusion of the ceremony, Mr. and I ducked out and headed back towards the hotel for a light snack and to put our feet up before the night began. While at the time it seemed like a good idea to head to the local A&W to eat a burger and onion rings in a three-piece suit and dress, we later realized the mistake we made by eating beforehand.

We arrived at the Armenian Community Centre which was filled with a sea of tables and chairs decorated with golden satin. The room was beautifully decorated with large streaming creme satin ribbons going from each corner of the room to a grand crystal chandelier in the middle. Very Hollywood glam and elegant to say the least. The head table was set up in two tiered levels with chairs for the bride, groom, best man and maid of honour at the top, and bridesmaids and groomsmen at the bottom.

A blend of traditional Armenian music (traditional string instrument, drums and keyboard) and what seemed to be pop music started off the night as the MC made his way to the microphone to introduce the bridal party. The bridal party was welcomed with a mix of applause and hollers. The entrance of the bride and groom was one in which I have never experienced. As they entered the room, they were accompanied by a large drum and a traditional Armenian wind instrument that resembled a clarinet. They danced and twirled as they entered and were welcomed by family and friends that quickly encircled them on the dance floor. The music grew louder and faster, and soon many were holding hands and were magically dancing around the bride and groom in a circle. For a brief period, the bride and groom were hoisted on shoulders, and all you could see was a sea of smiling faces, legs kicking and moving in circles to the music and wrists magically twisting in tune with the rhythm of the beats. It was like nothing else in the world existed at that moment except for the bride and the groom and the music.

The formal portion of the evening compromised of speeches from the groom's father, uncle, best man and the groom (on behalf of himself and the beautiful bride). While the speeches by the groom's father and uncle were delivered in Armenian, the emotion and the forcefulness in the words that they used were enough that even though I didn't understand the language, I felt the right emotions for the words that were being spoken.

How to best describe the rest of the night?... food.. music...dance..rinse and repeat. Plates of puff pastries with cheese and spinach, antipastos, hummus, pitas, sausages and tzatziki filled our table even before the main course of chicken and beef tenderloin were served. While I let out a mini sigh of relief that there was no formal dessert and it would just be dessert tables, I realized I relaxed prematurely. I walked into the room where all the desserts were laid out and it felt like someone read my mind and came and punched me in the gut for thinking that it wouldn't be too bad. Due to the fact that I am weak, I felt like I had to try a bit of everything... what is that they say... leave no stone unturned? Well, I wish I had left many stones alone. By the time I walked back to the table, I was surprised my arm wasn't sore from carrying my dessert plate that had baklava, fruits, a mini egg pie and a slice of chocolate mousse cake. I thought to myself that the Mr. and I would share... WRONG! He had come back with his own plate with cheesecake, fruits and a mille-feuilles. I wish I had been wearing stretchy pants that night.

Once my stomach came out of shock and everything seemed to settle to a tolerable level, the wine and liquors started to flow from the open bar (yes... the Armenians can party) and the dancing was in full swing. I sat for a while watching and admiring how all ages filled the dance floor. The mix of pop and Armenian music from the live band was entrancing to me, and it was amazing to see how engaged everyone was. The most admirable to see was the amount of young adults there were moving to the music, smiling and enjoying themselves amongst their parents and relatives - a sight you don't see often these days. As I sat and admired, I was caught off guard by a hand that grabbed my arm from out of nowhere. Before I knew it, I was pulled onto the dance floor by one of the groom's relatives. There was nothing I could do but to follow his orders of "hands in the air.. hands in the air... hips hips hips hips.." There I was dancing with his wife and children, and then two minutes later, the Mr. was right there beside me with a half scared smile on his face, attempting to follow the same directions I was given, "hands... hips..."

While I couldn't tell you what time that party went on until, the Mr. and I called it a night just after midnight and headed back to the hotel. We both agreed that we could honestly say that despite the fact that we only knew the groom at that wedding, it was probably one of the best weddings we have ever been to, and one that we soon won't forget.