Wedding Day

“Weddings are important because they celebrate life and possibility.”

– Anne Hathaway

The next day, we fly to Cebu, the second largest city in the Philippines. We bring with us my baptism certificate and a certificate of divorce from a previous, short-lived marriage. Before we can get married, we must obtain an affidavit in lieu of certificate on our suitability for marriage – records necessary to obtain the affidavit, which must be signed by an official at a U.S. embassy or consulate. The only choices are Manila, which maintains the only U.S. embassy in the Philippines, or Cebu, which maintains a consular office. Cebu is half the distance, and it has beautiful beaches, so we settle on Cebu. It's the oldest city in the Philippines and the most developed – the center of trade, commerce, education and industry in the Visayas (the central island in the Philippines). 

The city fronts the sea and is surrounded by 167 islands, so I'm looking forward to the visit. Unfortunately, I come down with the flu (the first of many colds and flues I experience during the next several months in the Philippines) and we never make it to the beaches.

We arrive in Cebu, step outside the airport, and head toward the taxi stand. A woman accosts us and hustles us over to a limousine. “Same price,” she says. I'm skeptical, but Elsa thinks the woman is telling the truth, so we hop in. The driver twists and turns down side-streets past the same galvanized metal roofs, and hollow block homes and storefronts I've seen throughout Mindanao. We drive on through heavy traffic for about an hour until we reach a wide boulevard lined with trees and glass windowed high rises and Cebu is starting to look a little more American than Davao or Tagum. Finally we reach the Hotel Stella, a new budget hotel just across from a Seven Eleven in downtown Cebu.

Cooking pig entrails - the wedding breakfast.

The hotel has no restaurant, so we buy siomai (pork dumplings) and hot dogs and a large bottle of diet coke for dinner from the Seven Eleven and settle down in our room. The next day, after a breakfast of donuts and coffee from the Seven Eleven, we take a taxi to the U.S. consular office in the Waterfront Hotel. The hotel facade is early twentieth century Beaux-Arts style and it reminds me a little of the Fairmont Hotel in San Francisco.

We leave our bags with the security guard at the entrance and go inside. A clerk hands me a marital status form. I fill it out and return it to the clerk. We take a seat and wait for a short while and then the consular officer walks up to us. He motions us to follow him to his office, where he asks me to raise my hand and swear that my written statements are true. I so attest. And that's it. The whole process takes less than a half an hour; it can take over two hours at the embassy in Manila.

“That was easy,” I tell Elsa as we're heading back to the hotel. Too easy and too quick for any type of transaction in the Philippines. So of course, I complicate matters. We just make it through our hotel entrance when I realize we left our bags with the security guard. We spend another 45 minutes returning to the consular office and retrieving our bags before we settle down again in our hotel. The guard said he saw us leaving, but never called out to us that he had our bags.

We visit Cebu for a couple of days more with me spending most of the time in bed recovering from my illness. Then we take a taxi back to the airport (at less than half the price of the limousine we took to the hotel on our first day) and fly back to Davao. Hopefully, we will spend more time in Cebu some day.

With our affidavit in lieu of certificate of suitability for marriage in hand, we can now obtain our marriage license from the municipal offices in Montevista. Some municipalities will not accept an affidavit, but require the certificate, which the U.S. government will not grant. Fortunately, Montevista does recognize the affidavit.

We take a tricycle up to the municipal hall. On the lower ground level lies a cement walled complex with a stage for events, some government offices, a basketball court, tennis courts and a children's playground with slides. A narrow cement road used by joggers and tricycles wanders around and through this complex. Above the complex, stairs lead up past a blue fountain with no water in it, but a larger than life mermaid in the center. The fountain operates during fiestas and other special events. The stairs continue up to a second level.

We avoid the stairs and take the tricycle up a side road to a two story cement office building housing the municipal offices. The office building sits on a hill offering a panoramic view of the mountains rising from the east.

Inside, we ask a couple of clerks where to find Mr. Sanchez, the municipal registrar before one of them sends us up to the the second floor where another clerk finally points us in the right direction. Then we sit outside a small office waiting for Mr. Sanchez to return from lunch. While we're waiting, I head outside to the Comfort Room. There's no toilet paper inside the small cement box of a room, and so I will wait until we return home to use the facilities. When I return, Elsa is speaking to Mr. Sanchez. We fill out some more paperwork and hand him $50, the cost for an American to purchase a marriage license. For a Filipino, the cost is $5.

So all the arrangements have been made and we wait in Tagum City for our wedding day to arrive. A couple of days before the wedding, we take the bus back to Elsa's home in Montevista. The house is filled with relatives staying overnight in preparation for the wedding. At the last minute, Elsa's former in-laws call and tell her they plan to attend – the four sisters and brother of her deceased husband and four of their kids. The full house is now overflowing. Relatives lie sleeping on the sofa, the beds and the floors throughout the house. The grandchildren sleep on the floor in our bedroom with the two youngest sharing the bed with Elsa and me.

The next morning, we awake early. The photographer/ videographer has already arrived as have two makeup artists who spend the morning applying make up and coiffing hair for the grandchildren, Elsa and her parents. Each sits quietly on the front porch awaiting his or her turn. Meanwhile Elsa's in-laws are cooking the pig's entrails in a large pot on an open fire in the backyard. The wedding party will dine on the pig at the reception, but the innards will be breakfast for everyone – except me.

Elsa and I pose with the godparents following the wedding ceremony.

The photographer snaps photos of all the morning's proceedings, including several pictures of our wedding garments and shoes that Elsa has laid out on the bed. Elsa's wears the traditional white gown and veil and I wear my black business suit instead of the traditional white barong.

After breakfast, we head over to church in Mare Vising's red KIA Sportage chauffeured by her driver. Most of the godparents are already there, including the Maestra's who will accompany me to the altar. The grandchildren and their cousins line up to serve as the ring bearer, flower girls, and the little bride and groom (an ancient custom in many cultures designed to fool the evil spirits and keep them away from the actual bride and groom – the little bride and groom are children and thus innocent and not subject to the evil spirits). Lilith, Elsa's sister-in-law, will do the reading from the bible. There are no bridesmaids or best man – just the godparents. 

Elsa and I with the children following the wedding.

The ceremony begins and I head down the aisle with the Maestra's. Next Elsa's parents accompany her down the aisle. Both parish priests stand at the altar and jointly conduct the ceremony. We exchange vows and wedding rings. Then I pour ten one peso coins into Elsa's hand from a bag called an arrhae to symbolize a monetary pledge to Elsa (arrhae means “earnest money”) – another old custom. Then two cousins, serving as the veil sponsors, place a veil over our shoulder and pin it to our chests while we kneel before the altar. They they drape a cord over our shoulders (called a “yuga”) to symbolize our union. The ceremony ends and we both sign the marriage license (it will take another three months to receive the officially recognized certificate).

Then the photographer snaps several pictures at the altar. First, he lines up all the godmothers behinds us and snaps a photo. Then he lines up all the godfathers behind us and snaps again. Then he lines up both the godmothers and godfathers behind us and snap. Then Elsa's daughters and grand kids. Snap. Snap. Then Elsa's brothers and sisters. Snap. Snap. Snap. Then the cousins. Snap. Snap. Snap. Snap. I'm afraid he's going to photograph us with each member of the audience and that we'll be there all day.

Finally, the photographer finishes, and Vising's chauffeur drives us to St. Bridget's convent for the reception. Just as Sister Carmen said many more show up than were invited. The table's are full and we open another room for relatives to dine. Elsa's brother Ray serves as master of ceremonies and her other brothers Manny and Bert also speak. People start clinking their glasses with spoons and Risa tells me I am expected to kiss Elsa each time they clink. People keep clinking and I keep kissing Elsa. After a while she tells me to stop, that they're joking me. I stop and there's no more clinking. The resort manager sings a few songs. Elsa and I dance briefly and each of us speaks and then it's over and we head back to Tagum. I'm already exhausted, but we have my birthday party to attend that evening. 

Elsa and I greet the godparents during the wedding reception.

Soon they arrive, mostly family, but also choir members from St. Joseph's, other friends of Elsa's and Ray's motorcycle club. We serve food left over from the reception and people sit and talk and sing karaoke until late in the night. In one corner of the sala sit the wedding gifts. Most will remain unopened until morning, but the group asks us to open one box. It contains a pair of underwear for each of us. Mine are, of course, a size too small. The group takes pictures of us holding up the underwear. Then there are more pictures. And more. Snap. Snap. Snap. There's more singing. And drinking. And finally it's over.

I'm exhausted and I've exhausted most of my money, so the honeymoon will have to wait until later. The Cebu trip will have to serve in its stead for now.