Malta – Week 2: A Gozitan Wedding
MALTA
Week 2: A Gozitan Wedding
April 20 to 27, 2023
PART I
Much like my first week had been taken over by social commitments, so too would my second week revolve around such responsibilities. This time round, it would be none other than my best friend Momma Bear’s wedding.
After many months on the road, far away from everyone I hold so close and dear to me, I found myself shirking my duties as her Paladin (a manlier noun we came up with instead of Maid of Honour – with her other best friend being the Dame). I mean, yeah, sure, I wrote her a damn book as a wedding present but given that I was part of the bridal party, I had been remiss in helping her with wedding planning at the most crucial of times. But finally, I could be there for her.
A Tasteful Hen Do
Before her big day, we’d get to reunite at her Hen’s Party – a low-key, tasteful tea party the rest of the bridal team had managed to put together over the previous few weeks.
The second she walked in, it all hit me at once. How much we had gone through, how lonely I had been without her, how much I truly appreciated her in my life. You see, I always pegged myself as the type to be fully independent. Attachments lead to vulnerability, and that’s the last thing I’d ever want. I am my own best friend – that’s the way it’s always been. But seeing her walk into that room had me reconsider my lifelong adage. She was my best friend. She was my rock. She was my person.
She stepped in, took a look around, and our eyes immediately locked. We stared at each other – a look that said it all. With my strawberry eyes on the verge of gushing, I waited until she made her rounds. I sat there tight, unmoving, waiting for our big reunion. By the time she finally got to our table, I was simply paralysed. As she came in for a hug that was meant to make up for eight months of not seeing each other, I found myself embracing her breathless – a show of strength and weakness all in one. I was once again with my best friend, my rock, my person. Everything was once again all right with the world.
Being surrounded by all those people who played an important role in Momma Bear’s life felt a lot like a privilege. There I was, feeling somewhat undeserving of being amongst the lot, taking it all in – how much she’s loved, how much she’s cherished. She has so many people in her corner – good people; intelligent, driven, humorous, amicable, warm. This truly was a testament to what a great person she is. No wonder she always emphasises how selective she is about the people she surrounds herself with!
The Inner Circle
The week leading up to the wedding was fraught with me trying to catch up with everyone else. As busy as I was, I had one thing on my mind – getting the damned book I had written for her while I was still in Argentina printed.
Once that too was done, I was finally ready to show my face. Momma Bear and Poppa Bear, her fiancé, welcomed me to their home once again. Honestly, it felt like being back home. I swear, that place is timeless. It took me back to all the hours we spent there – studying, gossiping, sharing, breaking down, building each other up. There, I was met with her perfect hubby-to-be and her not-so-perfect pug who stole my heart. This was their home, their family – one that I felt I was part of. And I don’t say that lightly. I’m not a family man – at all. Years and years of living with my dysfunctional family had made me repulsed by the idea of having one of my own in the future. But when they welcomed me as part of theirs, the idea of being happy as a solitary recluse started to change.
Needless to say, when we had met, we both had lives of our own, a past we could never be a part of. The tales I had heard, the memories they had created, the lives they both lived were things I could never even begin to understand. They already had best friends, colleagues, and families. And I too had mine. To become ingrained in their lives seemed not only unlikely, but impossible. How could I compare to everything they already had? What could I possibly offer? As close as we had become, as much trauma as we had shared, as many ups and downs we had lived through, there was still that thought humming quietly in the back of my mind.
Until the day Momma Bear asked me to be her Paladin, that is. Somehow, against all odds, against all doubts, our friendship had transcended all that. I was part of the inner circle. Somehow, I had made the cut. It meant that to them, I was one of the most important people in their lives. Me, Marius – one of the most important people in someone’s life.
This, to me, seemed irreconcilable with the idea I had of myself. All my life, it felt as if I’d always been on the side. Having grown up navigating the exhausting chaos of my own dysfunctional family, I had built my walls so high that being left out and never fitting in eventually just felt like a safe and deliberate choice. Then, I started learning more about myself and I grew to love myself. I loved myself so much I thought I’d never allow myself to let anyone else in. I had many best friends, but somehow, I was still my own. I knew that if push came to shove, I’d always be there for myself – unlike other people.
And I was okay with that. I would always have myself at the end of the day. But when she asked me to be her Paladin? For the very first time in my life, I wasn’t alone, I wasn’t replaceable, I wasn’t taken for granted. For the very first time, I felt loved, cherished.
PART II
The Prelude
And that takes us to the wedding weekend. Having been away since they had started planning the entire thing, I felt I had a lot of ground to cover in order to start making up for what I had missed. Offering my help wasn’t just about that, it was also a way for me to start showing my gratitude towards them and live up to the social expectations that come with being in the wedding.
Getting to drive them around and helping out with some stuff here and there was the least I could do, and I was genuinely elated to lend a hand. From checking out the venue and the supplies to organising the driving route to their photoshoot, from distributing the money owed to figuring out logistics, from confirming the flower arrangements to dropping off parking permits, it was a crazy couple of days. And this was just a tiny glimpse of everything they had been dealing with for months on end. It’s crazy how so much time, money, and effort goes into just one day, huh? Being the organisational freak that I am, I simply loved all of that – especially when it meant I could put my Excel skills to good use.
A Gozitan Affair
To do all of this, we used her parents’ house as our base of operations. I had met Big Momma a couple of times and I adored her from the very first time. She calls me Marcus at least two-thirds of the time, she gives me the blessed olive branches which I oh-so believe in, and she is the most quintessential Gozitan matriarch you could ever meet.
I had heard much about her Big Poppa, though until that point, he could have just as much been a literary figure – an old fisherman with a quirky personality. Her sister and her niece I had met just once, unlike her other kid – Baby J – whom I hadn’t ever seen. This was the family she’d talk about relentlessly. These were the very same people she loved, the very same people who drove her nuts on many an occasion. And these were the very same people I’d grow to love, the very same people who’d drive me nuts.
I stepped into their house expecting to feel like a complete stranger, an intruder, someone who doesn’t quite belong. In I went, nudged on by both Poppa and Momma Bear. In the doorway stood the Big Poppa – a short and stout, wizened man in his flannel shirt who greeted me warmly as if he had known me all along, pointing me immediately to the five calendars featuring the family members he’s so proud of. Then came Baby J (who’s no longer a baby), running up to me and ambushing me with a hug. His sister, in the meantime, stood by the door, eyeing me – a bit shy but also curious and somewhat attention-seeking. Big Momma was out on an errand, but she’d be there soon, I was warned.
As I stood there, inspecting the living room – cluttered by hundreds of frames and photos showing the two young sisters in their prime and the new additions to the family, it felt like I had stepped into the past itself. It was very reminiscent of my grandma’s living room in fact. Then I was led into the kitchen – a timeless space that seemed to have been truly lived in. There was something so nostalgic about it all. This was where the formidable Momma Bear grew up. No wonder she had such a strong sense of familial love. This place screamed love and warmth and affection.
Of course, that feeling of stillness and tranquility didn’t last long. In came Big Momma. Screaming and shouting, all kinds of food being flung my way – strawberries, honey rings, toast, a sandwich. As I impossibly shoved everything down my throat whilst holding Baby J and entertaining his sister’s turtle nest story, I was subtly handed a cup of coffee by Poppa Bear who pointed me towards the terrace where we could go out to enjoy a cigarette – realising how overwhelmed I was. Talk about being over-stimulated! For all it’s worth, I got used to it pretty quickly. The mayhem and the noise and having multiple conversations at one go became my new norm over a couple of days.
I felt right at home. I felt as if I belonged. I felt as if I had known them forever. And, much like Momma Bear herself later put it, it’s like I had been inextricably interwoven into their family – as if I had been a part of it all along. For the first time in my life, I found myself wanting to be a part of such a family, to have grown up there, to not have missed out on a childhood with them. It felt like I was living in a dream – one I didn’t know I had.
I’d be in their company for just a few days, but I truly felt as if I could go back to that whenever I’d want. Once again, I found myself overwhelmed with love. And once again, I felt loved, cherished.
PART III
The Calm Before the Snot Fest
And just like that, it was finally time. Three whole years of planning led to that one day. Ten years of Momma Bear and Poppa Bear, culminating on this one day – their wedding.
Bright and early we woke up at the fancy five-star hotel they had rented for us. As I sat out in the balcony admiring the glorious sunrise promising a wonderful day ahead, I lit up a cigarette – the calm before the storm. We’d have a long, long day ahead of us. After having breakfast with Poppa Bear and the groom’s party, I was dropped off at Momma Bear’s to join the bridal party where everyone was busying themselves getting ready for the big day.
I have to admit I expected way more disarray. In fact, it was like everyone was part of a perfectly choreographed dance, with the girls rotating between the hairdresser and the make-up artist without so much as a hitch – the photographer going around them unnoticed. It was so calm that at one point Momma Bear herself requested me to put on some music. With the Dame and myself having pretty much nothing to do, we took the DJ duties quite seriously, as the rest of the bridal party got all dolled up.
Then it was my turn – the simple act of putting on a suit a daunting one that had me feeling conflicted. You can imagine how it felt after spending the better part of a year half naked wearing nothing but swimming trunks by the beach. I didn’t have much time to dwell on it though. A few minutes later, Momma Bear stepped out of her room in her wedding dress – prompting everyone’s tear ducts to start doing their job. She looked like a proper Greek Goddess – simply magnificent and resplendent in her white, flowy dress. It all suddenly felt too real – our Momma Bear was getting hitched!
The lack of commotion and drama was surprising to say the least. Knowing Momma Bear and the perfectionist that she is, I would’ve assumed she’d be freaking out or going crazy over some minute detail. That couldn’t have been further from the truth. When her veil wouldn’t hold onto her hair, she simply had her bridesmaids, clip it on with a bobby pin. When her parents wouldn’t stop fussing, she told them to shut up. When we had been informed the ceremony would start a bit later than planned, she just doled out a simple “It is what it is!”.
After getting some more shots in, she got onto her Rolls-Royce with her family, and the rest of us got on a vintage Mystery Machine-like minibus. And just like that, we were on our way to the ceremony – all of us unable to contain our excitement (and tears).
Meeting at the Altar
Her Royal Majesty, stepping off the Rolls-Royce, was shortly followed by her family and then the bridal party on the churchyard. We then went into formation, as we had back at the rehearsal. The kids at the very front, followed by the bridesmaids, the Paladin and the Dame, and then Momma Bear flanked by her parents. You’d think we would’ve been serious and stoic, but we continued cracking jokes and laughing right till we actually started the whole thing.
Keeping in mind Big Poppa’s advice to take it easy and walk down the aisle slowly, instead of rushing as I had done during the rehearsal, I paced myself and got the tempo right – only screwing up the seating arrangement much to the wedding organiser’s chagrin. Then, with everyone in their place, we could finally admire the bride as she walked up the aisle to meet her groom – who, by the way, looked smashing (and on the brink of a complete and total nervous breakdown).
We all cried – mostly tears of laughter, as the narrow aisle had the blushing bride push her dad repeatedly into each and every bench. With every awkward bump, Big Poppa let out a muffled grunt while Poppa Bear stood at the altar desperately biting his lip to keep from bursting out laughing, before Momma Bear finally gave up the V-formation and walked up the aisle on her own. That said, by the time her father gave her away to her husband-to-be, most of us were already ugly crying.
The Newlyweds
That’s how it went throughout the entire ceremony. Luckily enough, I had remembered to carry around a packet of tissues, otherwise I would’ve been royally screwed. I found it ironic that I got so emotional given my aversion to religious ceremonies. That said, having two of my best friends confessing their undying love for each other with all their loved ones standing witness is way more than just a symbolic ritual. Plus, I’m a sucker for a good old Grey’s Anatomy wedding, so I guess it wasn’t entirely uncharacteristic for me to end up bawling my eyes out.
After an unnecessarily long and somewhat apocalyptic sermon delivered by the absent-minded priest who kept on shuffling his papers around and getting his speech all mixed up, they then proceeded to the vow exchange – the part we had all been waiting for. By this point, the Dame and I had managed to compose ourselves, with only a quick glance towards each other breaking us down again immediately. Poppa Bear went through with his proposal without so much as an “erm”. Momma Bear, on the other hand, broke down and couldn’t stop crying – prompting the entire audience to join her in her sobs. I swear, it was a complete and total snot fest. And I for one wouldn’t have had it any other way. I don’t think I had ever cried in front of so many people before, but at that point, I just couldn’t give less of a crap and indulged in giving my tear ducts a good run for their money.
After the ceremony was over and everyone started heading to the reception, the newlyweds, their parents and the bridal party stayed behind. It was at this point that I ran up to them for a congratulatory hug, and, as I held Momma Bear tight in a vice grip, I continued to confirm that I’m not as emotionally stunted as I thought I was – both of us unable to verbalise what we were feeling as we sobbed and ugly cried, trying to utter the words “I love you” in between sniffles and gulps. I never thought I’d allow myself to display such emotions out in the real world, away from the safety of my room whilst watching Grey’s.
After ten years together and three years of wedding planning, they had finally done it. They were husband and wife! To me, it felt like they had been married ever since I had met them the first time, and, as much as I don’t believe in weddings, it truly did feel like one of the biggest days in their lives – and mine too. The ceremony might not have changed much, but, seeing them surrounded by all their loved ones as they promised themselves to each other was a testament to something way bigger – something they had managed to build over those ten years.
A Dream-Like Reception
After the ceremony, the newlyweds hopped onto the Rolls-Royce and I trailed behind as we made our way down a narrow road leading to a picturesque church in the middle of nowhere where they had scheduled their photoshoot. While they were busy taking their shots, I took care of the kids who insisted to tag along. As fun as that was, it only reinforced the idea that I’m more cut out to be the cool uncle, with the few minutes we spent together wearing me out completely.
Then, we all headed to the wedding venue – the hotel we had stayed in the night before. I quickly made my way to the crowd, getting ready to welcome the newlyweds with a hearty applause and a shower of screams. As they started making the rounds and greeted everyone, I was snatched by the wedding planner to make sure everything was going fine, which, luckily, it was. The entire venue was exquisitely set up, with white linens and white-green flower arrangements making for a simple yet tasteful layout.
After a round of champagne, we all proceeded to the outside area, everyone taking their seats on their tables as the band started to play. As the guests mingled, they were served all kinds of foods – every single dish divine and mouth-watering. And of these, there were plenty and much to go around. I swear, the truffle risotto and the Paccheri alla Vittorio were to die for. I still have dreams about those two.
A Toast to the Bride & Groom!
In between meals and catching up with people, I did have some other duties. Together with Poppa Bear’s witness, I was in charge of checking up on the bar to make sure they weren’t low on any drinks. While trying to solve all kinds of issues, like the staff serving drinks which weren’t on the menu, and helping Momma Bear fix her dress after her zipper ripped (lucky for us one of the guests was a seamstress!), the reception was a blur. Well, it was, until the Dame and I had to give our speeches, that is.
For weeks on end I had been perfecting the toast I’d give in honour of the newlyweds, doing my best to turn it into the perfect mix of tear and laughter-inducing. We had agreed that the Dame’s would make an emotional wreck of everyone, whilst mine would be a bit more laid back and funny – my specialty. Having said that, my crippling stage-fright was something I had been anxious about all throughout. But, when push came to shove, I realised everyone there was either tipsy or in a food coma, providing a reassurance unlike any other. As expected, the Dame’s speech had everyone in tears, and mine elicited a number of LOLs and applause. Especially when I lost my line and made reference to the priest – who happened to be at the reception himself. Oops.
Then it was time for the newlyweds’ first dance to their favourite song, a traditional Maltese song which had everyone waving from side to side as bubbles, sparks and smoke made for a magical scene. Perhaps a tad over the top but it was truly beautiful, with her sister’s partner having set up the entire thing behind their backs. After this, we all joined in the fun, dancing and singing like crazy – the fun interrupted only for the cake-cutting bit. The upside-down wedding cake was not only a work of art – it was simply decadent!
More dancing, more drinking, more Paladin duties, and then most started to call it a day and headed back home, leaving the intimate party behind to reminisce on the magical, fairy-tale kind of day we had and talk about what’s to come. As much as I had warned Momma Bear that most stuff wouldn’t go as planned, it was truly the perfect day. With their big day behind them, we could now unwind and look forward to their happily ever after… To Momma and Poppa Bear!