On the very last day of Summer this year, I married my husband.
— Who, as I’d mentioned previously, is not the man of my dreams, but in many ways, is so much better than him.
Even though he has still not read one “Harry Potter” book or watched a single episode of the “Game of Thrones,” my husband is a kind and sensitive soul, generous to a fault, and a fantastic cook.
Which is also why he wasn’t a “hard sell” to my friends and family, who didn’t mince words when they expressed their worry about the cultural and religious differences, but whose doubts were already half dispelled by the time they learned that Strange-Egyptian-Muslim-Boy-We-Never-Met-Before doesn’t smoke or drink.
When I was in elementary school, I remember seeing an illustration of a Muslim couple in my Social Studies textbook.
Sort of like this, except that our textbook drawings in the 90s were in black and white
The man was wearing a type of turban on his head and brandishing a long blade in one hand, while the woman wore a hijab and was very meekly holding her hands together.
My Catholic Social Studies teacher taught us that these “Muslims” (who are commonly found in Southern Mindanao and not so much in our home city of Cebu) did not believe in Jesus Christ (she was wrong) and did not eat pork (she was right). They followed the teachings of a Prophet called Muhammad (right), the Five Pillars of Islam (right), and oh, their men could marry as many times as they wanted (dead wrong, teach).
Unsurprisingly, for a sheltered Catholic schoolgirl like me and the rest of my peers, Islam was very early on painted as a strange, even undesirable religion.
A passing footnote in Social Studies class, even as we were made to attend 3 hours of Christian Education class per week.
So you can hardly blame me if marrying a Muslim man was the last thing on my mind.
If I had never left my home city, I probably would have never married a Muslim, or anybody for that matter.
Because as far as romantic prospects went, I had a very uneventful teenage/early adult life.
I didn’t date — partly because nobody asked me out, but mostly because I had an impossible set of criteria for my elusive “Dream Boy.”
And the few times I was interested, he was either completely oblivious and/or emotionally unavailable and/or totally fictional.
But lo and behold, the girl who never had a boyfriend married her first boyfriend at 25.
— And no, I’m not pregnant.
This isn’t even my photo. I just got this online to taunt you. Hahaha!
I feel that in this day and age, you have to explicitly mention that you’re not, or else people will assume you are.
So allow me to jump back into the details.
When our year-and-a-half-long odyssey of preparing documents was over (a separate blog altogether), Adam and I were more than ready to get married, even if it meant just 1 week of actual wedding preparations.
Which is exactly what happened.
I booked the hotel and ordered the cookies and cupcakes and Adam went to the Abu Dhabi Court and set an appointment with the Mazoun — all in 7 days.
We had already pre-decided on a venue a few weeks back, when we had dinner in one of their on-site restaurants, Printania.
Image Source: Groupon UAE
The Royal Rose Hotel is a 5-star hotel with a 17th century French palace concept, an anachronism in the middle of downtown Abu Dhabi.
But the best part was that the ambience and staff made you feel like royalty without having to break the bank.
I thought that the service part was especially important, because the last thing we needed was a bunch of snobs turning up their noses at us and our guests.
I’ve had far better experiences in 4 and even 3-star hotels than 5-star hotels when it comes to the staff, but I thought that for our wedding, considering how small and private we wanted it to be, we also wanted a more exclusive location.
We booked the Deluxe King Room and Boutique Suite for 3 nights.
I arrived in Abu Dhabi the day before the wedding, and after a hearty dimsum lunch in my favorite Panda Bao Bao Cafe.
I checked into my room and freshened up before hearing Anticipated Mass in St. Joseph’s Church.
I had a good night’s sleep which lasted almost mid-Sunday morning, because our wedding ceremony was still at 7 that evening anyway.
I took my time eating breakfast and exploring the hotel facilities.
Adam arrived at the hotel at 4:00 p.m., only to tell me that he forgot all our marriage papers at home.
Luckily, he only lived 5 minutes away, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t more than a little bit annoyed.
That’s one funny story to tell our future kids and grandkids someday!
The same time I tried to lug Adam’s overnight bag and kandura up my room, our wedding cookies and cupcakes arrived.
Before I could even think about sprouting extra hands, one of the hotel bellboys was already ready with a luggage cart.
Now that’s 5-star service!
He assisted me to my room and still left with a smile despite my absolute failure to give him a tip in my excitement to see my custom-made cookies and cupcakes.
I’d like to give a shoutout to Mama’s Cupcakes (“The Capital’s Award-winning cupcakes!”) for creating the sweetest masterpieces I’d ever seen.
Not only did they graciously accommodate my small order, but they also used pastel pink ribbons for the cookie bags (just as I’d requested).
I’d initially placed an order with another, more “popular” pastry shop in Dubai, but the amount of chasing I had to do left me feeling snubbed.
In the end, I’m so glad I went ahead with Mama’s Cupcakes.
The cookies and cupcakes were A+ and communicating with Miss Faiza Taha was as easy as pie!
Adam stayed in the suite, so he can prepare himself and welcome the guests when they arrived at 6, while I stayed in my room on the 4th floor.
I had about an hour and a half to do my own makeup and hair.
At the last minute, I wore my wedding dress, a traditional Vietnamese ao dai, custom-made from Heaven Ao Dai in Vietnam (thanks, Ngoc Anh Vong!)
To add more sparkle to my “simple” wedding dress, I wore a tiara, glitter stilettos and accessorized with a diamond jewellery set gifted by the one family member who could physically attend my wedding.
I took the lift to our suite on the 13th floor, and thankfully, both the corridor and the lift were devoid of spectators.
My bridegroom answered the door, dressed for the first (and possibly the last) time in full Emirati kandura.
We had a good laugh at each other’s expense, and he introduced me to his friends who had already arrived.
2 Karims, 2 Mohameds, 1 Maryam… You get the picture.
We had a grand total of 9 guests: 90% of which are Arabs.
I didn’t understand what they were talking about more than half the time — including the actual wedding ceremony.
I had attended over a hundred weddings before but not a single one of them was a Sharia Wedding.
Come to think of it, I’d never even attended a Civil Wedding in the Philippines!
So I was not only an excited bride, but also doubled as an excited anthropology student, observing a foreign culture I was about to be initiated into.
The Mazoun (Muslim Cleric/Judge who officiates marriages) arrived a little after 7 in the evening.
Like Adam and Walid, my Wali (Islamic legal guardian), the Mazoun also wore a crisp white kandura.
Even though he was all smiles when he came in, he still commanded authority and respect.
While he was inspecting our marriage documents, he took the time to get to know the guests and asked which part of Egypt they came from (so we all kind of assumed he was Egyptian too).
We were missing photocopies of our Emirates IDs, and one of our guests eagerly volunteered for the task.
Turns out, he was Adam’s direct manager, and I greatly admired him for that.
After the 20-minute document inspection, the lively Arabic conversation was hushed to make way for the solemnization.
Which was 100% in Arabic.
Truth be told, the only words I understood were Adam’s name, Walid’s name, and my name and Dad’s name (pronounced in a heavy Arabic accent)
The strangest part was, I didn’t have to say a single word in English or Arabic.
I signed a couple of documents before the solemnization but during the ceremony itself, I was silent — and not the meditative type of silence but the really dumb, I-don’t-understand-a-single-word type of silence.
I didn’t even know I was married and the ceremony was over until everyone started clapping!
And instead of the Bride and Groom kissing, it was the Groom and Wali!
But there was one more surprise coming.
At Adam’s signal, one of the guests brought him two white jewellery boxes, which he presented to me.
The first one he opened was a diamond ring in rose gold.
I know, I know.
Getting a diamond ring from your newly-wedded husband isn’t exactly big news, but the road to our wedding was long, winding and very expensive.
I had no expectations whatsoever from Adam, who made it a point early on in our relationship to fully disclose his financial situation with me.
And seeing as that he had already presented me with a solid gold ring the year before on our engagement, I didn’t see any reason to get another ring.
But there it was, sparkling under the tiny spotlight fixed inside the box.
Frankly, I was more fascinated with the light in the box than the ring itself, not because the ring wasn’t up to my standards, but because I’m just not a jewellery-type of person.
Still, for the sake of keeping up appearances, I had to appear happy.
The second box contained a gold and diamond heart pendant.
They were the kind of beautiful gifts at the expense of another person’s arm and leg.
Adam explained to the guests that I had often complained to him that he never “properly proposed” to me — that is, getting down on one knee and asking for my hand in marriage.
Just like the movies (and Jane Austen novels!)
For the record, I was after the romantic gesture over the size of the rock.
Anyway, he finally got down on his knee and asked for my hand again and fitted me with my brand new diamond rose gold ring.
We asked our guests to proceed to Printania Restaurant on the Mezzanine floor ahead of us.
Adam and I stopped by my room to get the cupcakes, which I arranged around a 2-tiered heart-shaped cupcake stand I’d ordered online.
Together, we made our way to Printania and were greeted by Htike, the Assistant Restaurant Manager and one of the best human beings out there.
She was just as sweet when Adam and I had first visited in jeans and sneakers as when we came in our full wedding attire.
She very kindly responded to our 1 million emails, offered us a great dinner buffet rate, along with a complementary cake, accommodated our request to make said cake in vanilla (following a bizarre Filipino-Chinese wedding superstition to avoid chocolate) and finally allowed us to select an area in the restaurant for our small party.
She also happens to have a minor celebrity status, having been featured in YouTuber Sophie Kim’s “Sophie’s Travels” Abu Dhabi video.
Htike led us to our table, where our guests looked famished and relieved to see us finally arrive.
We invited them to eat, since it was already 8:30.
There was enough variety for everyone: plenty of fresh vegetable appetizers, soups and breads, hard-shell tacos, spiced rice, chicken, fish and lamb main entrees and even a chicken shawarma. There was also a long table of sweets and pastries, and when I noticed some guests working their way to dessert, I asked Htike to roll out the cake and cupcakes, which looked too good to eat.
Following wedding customs, Adam and I fed each other a slice of cake.
Afterwards, his manager announced we also needed to eat the cake Egyptian-style, which was accomplished by entwining two forks, so we had to bring our faces close together.
Believe me, it would’ve been a lot easier if Adam had a flatter nose.
We gave our guests cupcakes and cookies to take home and called it a night by 10:30, ushering our guests to the lift that will take them directly to the lobby.
Adam and I breathed a sigh of relief, and tired though we were, he whipped out his phone to take selfies of us in front of Royal Rose’s iconic chandelier.
Htike (bless her) was quick to offer her assistance as our photographer and coached us on some poses.
She also had our wedding cake sent up to our suite in a trolley.
Once upstairs, Adam confessed that he didn’t much like the buffet food (no surprise there — he’s quite the picky eater) and that he was still hungry.
So we went out to a late-night cafeteria next to the hotel.
Because hey, marriage is about putting the other’s needs before yours, even though all you want to do is hit the sack after a long, life-changing day.
