If you do a search for Ukrainian wedding customs and practices, you’ll find a lot of what seem to be fairly archaic practices — and they most definitely are. Bartering for the bride, or having to ransom her back after she’s been stolen, feasts and celebrations lasting two or three days, I even remember reading something about the groom and a wheelbarrow.

As it turns out, many of those things are still done in one way or another. At least they are for many weddings. Fortunately, we weren’t going to the nines on our ceremony (since it was Viktoria’s second and I was a clueless foreigner who didn’t speak the language and was leaving in less than a week), but there were still a couple of those customs that were part of it.

Getting hitched at the registrar’s is rather like being wed at city hall. The Mariupol office (the central office, where we were) is a rather run down building, but they have this area where the ceremonies are done that is in slightly better repair. Still, it was nothing like what you’d find at your local city hall.

The whole family made it down (except for Viktoria’s son’s wife and son), as well as Svetlana, the translator Viktoria and I have used from time to time. We got a couple photos on the steps leading up to the wedding hall, and then it was time to get things started.

A recorded version of Mendelssohn’s wedding march is played (a tad too loudly, if you ask me), and the bride and groom enter the hall together, followed by anyone else who is attending. There is no giving the bride away; entering together is to represent the equal partnership of the marriage. We stood at about the halfway point of the room; Svetlana was behind me to provide real time translation. At the far end of the room, up a couple steps, was a podium for the official, a table for the documents we would be signing, and a keyboard player to provide some incidental music. (Apparently, music and singing are supposed to be big parts of a traditional ceremony; she played pretty much whenever the officiant wasn’t speaking.)

The official made a couple welcoming remarks, including a statement about what we were doing. A piece of cloth, about 2′ by 8′ (provided by Viktoria’s mother) was placed on the floor before us, and the official invited us to step into it. (The cloth, called a rushnik, symbolizes the hope that the couple will never have to live on bare floors, i.e., be poor.) Then it was time for The Question. The official asked (with appropriate pauses for translation) if we were both there of our own free wills, understood the vows were making, and would do our utmost to fulfill them. Of course, at that point the only appropriate answer was “da.”

The exchange of rings was pretty much what it is here too. The rings are presented as a pair, I put her ring on her finger, she my ring on my finger. The only thing that caused a raised eyebrow was that I insisted on wearing my ring on my left hand. Over here, wedding rings go on the right hand; being on the left signifies divorce or other such separation. (Or just casual fashion; basically anything except being married.) I had told Viktoria about using my left hand awhile ago, so she wasn’t surprised, but a couple folks at the office were. But I think they realized it’s a different custom and went along with it.

Next came the legalese, as Viktoria and I went up to the dais to sign the city registration book. Actually, we had to sign in multiple places, not only for the wedding, but also for the extra immigration paperwork we had requested, a total of six or seven places. The Ukrainian signature is a very economical and illegible thing, so Viktoria’s turn at bat was pretty quick; mine was a tad longer, which I think amused the official a little. (Yet another crazy American and his name-based signature…)

After returning to our places on the rushnik, it was time for a little bubbly. We had some special goblets, again from Viktoria’s mother, and as part of the ceremony, we drink of glass champagne. I’m not sure of the significance; I just thought it was interesting as part of a civil ceremony.

We didn’t have to drink the whole thing, at least not at first. After we each had a sip, we had reached the conclusion, and were officially designed as husband and wife according to the laws of Ukraine. Mozel tov! (And then we finished our glasses of champagne — people were suggesting it would be bad luck if we didn’t.)

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There’s a little more to tell, but our internet has been out for the day, so I’ll just post this and get caught up with everything tomorrow.