One of the strangest things given the craziness of the last month and a half is that currently, it feels like nothing has happened at all. I am sitting the same sub-let apartment I moved into in October, trying to figure out how to manage my daily life while trying to get some serious work done, and waiting for Steve to fly over here. The main differences as far as I can tell right now are a ring on my finger and a very nice, but somewhat surreal memory of getting married and being on a honeymoon, wedged in between less pleasant memories of a frenzy of paperwork, logistics, and short term, high-stress planning, interspersed by panic attacks at the arrival of unexpected complications. There is a LOT I could write about it all. There is material for about ten blog entries in my head, and so far, it has done the obvious thing: put me into paralysis about where to start.
But yesterday, I decided to start somewhere, anywhere. I wrote a text on migration and immigration and how it came to be that there were exactly 12 days between our decision to get married and my father walking me down a short, somewhat improvised aisle. Then I decided not to post it. First and foremost, I don't want to frame my wedding in terms of immigration. We decided to get married because we wanted to get married. Second, currently, Steve and I are waiting for the Austrian authorities to decide on his residence title. I am waiting here, he is waiting in the US. Posting anything related to my feelings, opinions and actions concerning migration and immigration just doesn't feel right. Paranoia ("who KNOWS who will read this and how it could be coming across") and superstition ("don't run even the remotest risk of jinxing anything!") must be common side effects of dealing with immigration stuff. So, today, I decided to focus on what's the most important thing here: we got married!
Take my word for it, we had 12 days, and many worries other than how to make it "the perfect day" or anything like that. Also, let me be more precise here: there were exactly three concrete steps towards marriage that we took before day -11: on day -17, we each obtained one critical document, and on day -16, we got engaged. Everything else, from how to even go about this "getting married" thing, to an emergency super-official translation of Steve's birth certificate, to planning a honeymoon outside the Schengen zone for the week after the wedding, we figured out within those 12 days.
12 days means a range of things, many of them funny and/or a little bizarre. There is just a comical element to walking into a jeweler's store on a Friday evening, staring cluelessly and obviously for the first time ever at a tray of rings, and watching the sales person's face drop when telling them "next Thursday, if possible". Or walking into a hairdresser's shop, pointing at my aging pixie cut, saying: "I am getting married on Saturday, just do something with this." Or, when talking to the registrar, being obviously clueless about pretty much everyting about the ceremnoy ("I think we'll have rings..."), except, oh yes, we will have live music. (Just in case you are falling off your chair for suspense here: yes, we did get rings. Here they are.)
But yesterday, I decided to start somewhere, anywhere. I wrote a text on migration and immigration and how it came to be that there were exactly 12 days between our decision to get married and my father walking me down a short, somewhat improvised aisle. Then I decided not to post it. First and foremost, I don't want to frame my wedding in terms of immigration. We decided to get married because we wanted to get married. Second, currently, Steve and I are waiting for the Austrian authorities to decide on his residence title. I am waiting here, he is waiting in the US. Posting anything related to my feelings, opinions and actions concerning migration and immigration just doesn't feel right. Paranoia ("who KNOWS who will read this and how it could be coming across") and superstition ("don't run even the remotest risk of jinxing anything!") must be common side effects of dealing with immigration stuff. So, today, I decided to focus on what's the most important thing here: we got married!
Take my word for it, we had 12 days, and many worries other than how to make it "the perfect day" or anything like that. Also, let me be more precise here: there were exactly three concrete steps towards marriage that we took before day -11: on day -17, we each obtained one critical document, and on day -16, we got engaged. Everything else, from how to even go about this "getting married" thing, to an emergency super-official translation of Steve's birth certificate, to planning a honeymoon outside the Schengen zone for the week after the wedding, we figured out within those 12 days.
12 days means a range of things, many of them funny and/or a little bizarre. There is just a comical element to walking into a jeweler's store on a Friday evening, staring cluelessly and obviously for the first time ever at a tray of rings, and watching the sales person's face drop when telling them "next Thursday, if possible". Or walking into a hairdresser's shop, pointing at my aging pixie cut, saying: "I am getting married on Saturday, just do something with this." Or, when talking to the registrar, being obviously clueless about pretty much everyting about the ceremnoy ("I think we'll have rings..."), except, oh yes, we will have live music. (Just in case you are falling off your chair for suspense here: yes, we did get rings. Here they are.)
Some aspects of the 12-day timeline were inconvenient/unlucky. For instance, two of my grandparents had recently had surgery, and it was certainly not the optimal time for them to travel. They were also not exactly in a position to stay overnight somewhere other than home on such short notice, and thus all of the grandparents had to leave the reception relatively early. (I am the more grateful they could make it at all!). Both my parents had to change their travel plans. It was also too short notice to devise a feasible travel plan for my little half sister (but also, she was sick that week).
But we also found that there are some real advantages to the short fuse: the expense you incur is naturally limited, nobody who isn't invited can really be offended, you are getting married while still completely psyched about the fact that you just decided to get married, and you just CANNOT obsess over details. We were forced to focus our energy on the things that really matter. Which were, in this exact order: a date before Steve needed to leave the country, all the necessary paperwork being in order and ready by that date, a translator, two witnesses, some guests, some music, rings, and a meal.
After those basics were covered, instead of getting nervous about things not working as planned (as we hear happens with more elaborate weddings), we were feeling giddy about every little thing that worked out, every additional "bonus": getting married in Admont townhall, instead of a random Viennese office building. The 14 guests, all invited by telephone, and a string quartet recruited out of them (ok, technically, 75 % of the string quartet, but it's not like I didn't know the fourth player). An actual reception at a nice place. The fact that the very seamstress who made my traditional Austrian dress (Dirndl) in 2006 was available between Friday evening and Saturday morning to make the necessary adjustments for my 2013 self to still be able to breathe normally in it. Steve's tie, the one and only random tie he had, being red and blue as if picked together with the Dirndl. The pen he found to sign the contract - his brother gave it to him at his wedding. The bridal bouquet of tulips and roses, which I really liked, but had no more control over than calling Admont's only flower shop and saying: "I need a bridal bouquet on Saturday, I am wearing a red-and-blue Dirndl, and I love tulips, can you put some of those into it?" There was also the choice of music at the ceremony, which we were really happy about, but over which we also had very little control: you can hardly be very specific with a non-permanent string quartet that will have a chance to rehearse once, two hours before the event (I just made sure to pre-emptively veto Pachelbel's Canon in D).
And, finally, there was the incredible coincidence that next to the Austrian flag, the Admont town hall was flying the Stars and Stripes that day, because Admont happened to be the official fan community of the US ski team in the ski world championship held not too far away. How often have I seen the American flag in Admont (a serious one, not prints on fashion items etc.)? Exactly never ever before. And it's not like that even fully registered at the time, it was more like: "Oh, look, an American flag right next to the Austrian one, neat, let's take some pictures!"
And then, there were the wonderful little and bigger things that people did to make it a perfect day after all. My parents organized the reception at a remote and adorable inn/farm. I feel extremely lucky that the relationship between me and my parents, and also the relationship between my (divorced) parents is of a nature that they can tell me: "We'll organize your wedding reception", and I know it will a) work, b) it will be just perfect, and c) I really won't have to worry about anything. The inn was an old farmhouse with lots of wood, there were friendly cats and dogs sitting around, and the room we stayed in was really cozy. The room we ate in had a vaulted ceiling, the food was simple, locally sourced, and excellent, there were bunches of tulips on every table, and my father delivered a really nice speech. My parents also had each baked one of their amazing tortes as wedding cakes.
They weren't white, but who cares, neither was anything else, they were delicious, and that's what matters. And there were all the contributions from other people: My grandmother made a traditional bridal wreath for me. My boss lent me a set of baroque Dirndl jewelry. My father's girlfriend cooked lunch for nine before the ceremony, and one of my friends served a triple-role as translator, cellist and witness. My aunt brought Uhudlersekt (a sparkling wine from her region) for a toast after the ceremony, to which my mother served home-baked hors d'oeuvres, and two friends from town surprised us by throwing rice and flowers as we walked out of the town hall. The most intricate feat was accomplished by Steve's brother: On day -4 he booked a flight from Connecticut to Vienna for day -1. He arrived, with a bag packed for 2 days in Austria and his family vacation in Florida, which he was leaving for after the reception. At 1 a.m., to be precise. Rumor has it that the price for the nocturnal taxi ride from the remote and adorable inn to Vienna International Airport rivaled the expense of the short notice open-jaw transatlantic flight.
Which brings me to the one MAJOR drawback of the 12-day timeline. Steve's brother was the ONLY person from the US who could make it. His wife and children were on their way to that family vacation in Florida. It is one thing to spontaneously re-direct travel for one, quite another for 5. Steve's sister made a serious attempt, but failed at the impossibility of having her passport renewed within less than a week. (Let this be a warning to all of you passport-less Americans! Better get it done! You never know when your brother will get married abroad on short notice!) And most sadly: Steve's parents could not make it. They are wonderful people. I liked them from the moment I met them, and when I first walked into their house, it felt like I was walking into my grandparents' house. Not in the sense that they are very similar to my actual grandparents, but in the sense that, if I could adopt another set of grandparents, it would be them. (Come to think of it, they are my parents-in-law now. Even better!) But, when it comes to traveling overseas on short notice… they are in their late 70's/early 80's and were moving houses that very same week. There was no way. We so wish they could have been there.
Let me get to the last incredible thing that worked out: we simply picked one of the three invited friends and asked him: "Would you mind being our wedding photographer?" We had no idea we picked exactly the right man for the job. He recorded the wedding with my camera, mostly for Steve's parents to look at, and took 300+ photos with his own, the majority of them good. There is all sorts of stuff that can happen when you randomly hand someone the camera. We are thrilled with this outcome!
But we also found that there are some real advantages to the short fuse: the expense you incur is naturally limited, nobody who isn't invited can really be offended, you are getting married while still completely psyched about the fact that you just decided to get married, and you just CANNOT obsess over details. We were forced to focus our energy on the things that really matter. Which were, in this exact order: a date before Steve needed to leave the country, all the necessary paperwork being in order and ready by that date, a translator, two witnesses, some guests, some music, rings, and a meal.
After those basics were covered, instead of getting nervous about things not working as planned (as we hear happens with more elaborate weddings), we were feeling giddy about every little thing that worked out, every additional "bonus": getting married in Admont townhall, instead of a random Viennese office building. The 14 guests, all invited by telephone, and a string quartet recruited out of them (ok, technically, 75 % of the string quartet, but it's not like I didn't know the fourth player). An actual reception at a nice place. The fact that the very seamstress who made my traditional Austrian dress (Dirndl) in 2006 was available between Friday evening and Saturday morning to make the necessary adjustments for my 2013 self to still be able to breathe normally in it. Steve's tie, the one and only random tie he had, being red and blue as if picked together with the Dirndl. The pen he found to sign the contract - his brother gave it to him at his wedding. The bridal bouquet of tulips and roses, which I really liked, but had no more control over than calling Admont's only flower shop and saying: "I need a bridal bouquet on Saturday, I am wearing a red-and-blue Dirndl, and I love tulips, can you put some of those into it?" There was also the choice of music at the ceremony, which we were really happy about, but over which we also had very little control: you can hardly be very specific with a non-permanent string quartet that will have a chance to rehearse once, two hours before the event (I just made sure to pre-emptively veto Pachelbel's Canon in D).
And, finally, there was the incredible coincidence that next to the Austrian flag, the Admont town hall was flying the Stars and Stripes that day, because Admont happened to be the official fan community of the US ski team in the ski world championship held not too far away. How often have I seen the American flag in Admont (a serious one, not prints on fashion items etc.)? Exactly never ever before. And it's not like that even fully registered at the time, it was more like: "Oh, look, an American flag right next to the Austrian one, neat, let's take some pictures!"And then, there were the wonderful little and bigger things that people did to make it a perfect day after all. My parents organized the reception at a remote and adorable inn/farm. I feel extremely lucky that the relationship between me and my parents, and also the relationship between my (divorced) parents is of a nature that they can tell me: "We'll organize your wedding reception", and I know it will a) work, b) it will be just perfect, and c) I really won't have to worry about anything. The inn was an old farmhouse with lots of wood, there were friendly cats and dogs sitting around, and the room we stayed in was really cozy. The room we ate in had a vaulted ceiling, the food was simple, locally sourced, and excellent, there were bunches of tulips on every table, and my father delivered a really nice speech. My parents also had each baked one of their amazing tortes as wedding cakes.
They weren't white, but who cares, neither was anything else, they were delicious, and that's what matters. And there were all the contributions from other people: My grandmother made a traditional bridal wreath for me. My boss lent me a set of baroque Dirndl jewelry. My father's girlfriend cooked lunch for nine before the ceremony, and one of my friends served a triple-role as translator, cellist and witness. My aunt brought Uhudlersekt (a sparkling wine from her region) for a toast after the ceremony, to which my mother served home-baked hors d'oeuvres, and two friends from town surprised us by throwing rice and flowers as we walked out of the town hall. The most intricate feat was accomplished by Steve's brother: On day -4 he booked a flight from Connecticut to Vienna for day -1. He arrived, with a bag packed for 2 days in Austria and his family vacation in Florida, which he was leaving for after the reception. At 1 a.m., to be precise. Rumor has it that the price for the nocturnal taxi ride from the remote and adorable inn to Vienna International Airport rivaled the expense of the short notice open-jaw transatlantic flight. Which brings me to the one MAJOR drawback of the 12-day timeline. Steve's brother was the ONLY person from the US who could make it. His wife and children were on their way to that family vacation in Florida. It is one thing to spontaneously re-direct travel for one, quite another for 5. Steve's sister made a serious attempt, but failed at the impossibility of having her passport renewed within less than a week. (Let this be a warning to all of you passport-less Americans! Better get it done! You never know when your brother will get married abroad on short notice!) And most sadly: Steve's parents could not make it. They are wonderful people. I liked them from the moment I met them, and when I first walked into their house, it felt like I was walking into my grandparents' house. Not in the sense that they are very similar to my actual grandparents, but in the sense that, if I could adopt another set of grandparents, it would be them. (Come to think of it, they are my parents-in-law now. Even better!) But, when it comes to traveling overseas on short notice… they are in their late 70's/early 80's and were moving houses that very same week. There was no way. We so wish they could have been there.
Let me get to the last incredible thing that worked out: we simply picked one of the three invited friends and asked him: "Would you mind being our wedding photographer?" We had no idea we picked exactly the right man for the job. He recorded the wedding with my camera, mostly for Steve's parents to look at, and took 300+ photos with his own, the majority of them good. There is all sorts of stuff that can happen when you randomly hand someone the camera. We are thrilled with this outcome!
Failing a church and a large crowd, we just decided to take a walk through town for a procession.
We were contemplating sending this picture overseas and telling everyone that the barn will be our new home....
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