It's winter again in Dubai and one of the things I love about this time of year is not the perfect weather (low 20s, sunny and clear), or even the occasional rain. It's the clothes.
People who have been here long enough adapt to the hot weather. The blood vessels move closer to the skin, never to return. Thus we get cold easily. And I'm guessing that the longer you're here, the closer to the surface those blood vessels get: the other day I was going to the shops at lunchtime. It was about 21°C and a bit cloudy, but looking around I saw people in winter coats, beanies and scarves. (Actually, I think it's a bit psychological as they also rug up for work, which is climate controlled...)
Since October's post I've gotten married, of course. But let's wind back the clock...
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I've covered the whole really-bad-proposal chapter, but not the preparation. This is perhaps the best part of the whole process for the bride-to-be. She has been practicing for it since infancy, when she would play with her dolls - wedding between Barbie and Teddy, Barbie doing the dishes while Ted's away (remember, it was the 70s back then), that kind of thing. Then bedtime stories of Prince Charming, and later, dreams and plans of flowers and revolting bridesmaids dresses. (OK, I'm totally making this up, but I'M A MAN.)
Miss Tobias, soon to be wife to the luckiest guy aroundSo the question is asked and the bride-to-be immediately initiates the Plan and starts asking the hapless groom-to-be esoteric questions he doesn't quite realise the importance of. "What type of flowers should we have?" "What music should be playing as I walk down the aisle?"
And she imposes peculiar restrictions, such as not seeing the dress beforehand, which may involve not going into a certain room in your house for some time.
Would you look at the time!
But I'm being unfair on Sarah - she did a tremedous job of organising a superb wedding from across the world while I chipped in occasionally, trying to be helpful, but always feeling somewhat inadequate.
Of course, they say a wedding is all about the bride, but I'm not so sure. I think it's all about the mothers. A wedding is, of course, their chance to have the wedding that their mothers wouldn't let them have. The dress is wrong, the invitations are wrong, the list of invitees is wrong. My favourite was getting hassled for not wearing a dinner suit (this grievance later turned into disappointment I wasn't wearing tails) despite the fact it was a 5:30 wedding and my mother kicked off before my sister's 5:30 wedding because the groom was wearing tails before 6:00pm!!
But it all came together beautifully on the day. I was a little worried Mum wasn't going to dig the mariachi band or the magician, as she kept giving (still gives) me a hard time for having a 'non-traditional' wedding, but it turned out they were a big hit. It was the priest that got her goat.
Just the day before my family was saying how they hated it when people clap at weddings. So when Grant, our priest, told the congregation that weddings, though serious, are not solemn - so please clap - well, let's just say it didn't go down too well on the front row of the right hand side of the church. I was actually accused of putting the guy up to it - as if I would court that kind of misery.
Job done
As with everything, though, it worked out superbly. Both mothers had a great time, as did the guests (even those who took exception to Dad's speech about my dating restrictions as a lad: no blacks, no Chinese, no redheads and no Irish Catholics) and most importantly Sarah and I had a ball. It was tremendous seeing all our friends and family out in support, and a big thanks to those who came in from interstate and overseas to be there.
Presenting Mr and Mrs Lander
But jeez, I wish someone had told me to run my fingers through my hair before the photos...
More pics at: http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/sredir?uname=njlander&target=ALBUM&id=5288941129582699105&authkey=bU9E6f2d0-k&feat=email
