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A fair amount of pressure accompanies the statement, “I’m looking forward to the best day of my life.” When the day in question is one’s wedding day, the pressure gets 2)ratcheted up even higher. And, there’s the unfortunate fact that such a positive, hopeful statement is occasionally met with cynical suspicion. It’s as if “I’m looking forward to the best day of my life” flies right off the 3)cliche-o-meter.
Already a light mist of suspicion had accumulated around my fiancee and myself, due to her immigrant status. But I was NOT indulging in sarcasm and the implication that we were getting married for anything but the purest reasons was 4)downright insulting. If my sincere, hopeful utterances did not convince everyone, it simply didn’t matter. I was too busy being the 5)giddy American guy, heading over to Austria, to the scenic 6)Tyrolean Alps, to marry a funny little Thai woman named Toi.
Western Austria is quite possibly the loveliest place on Earth. And the 7)chapel in which I was to be married was prominently pictured on postcards.
Despite the 8)idyllic setting, to hint that this wedding was to be dictated by tradition would be wholly inaccurate. Toi grew up in both Thailand and Austria and has a Swiss-born but Austrian-citizen father, and a Thai mother. Meanwhile, my mother is 9)as American as apple pie.
Before we’d really thought of ours as an “international wedding,” we had a house full of Austrian, Swiss, Thai, and American people, eating dinner and attempting to find common ground. Extraordinary Thai
dinners and numerous bottles of Austrian white wine went a long way toward bringing the cultures together, but as expected, the real connection was the English language. Europeans and Asians will 10)coyly apologize for their “bad” English (which is, of course, much better than our 11)butchering of their respective languages), but I suspect that, deep down, they
really, truly are laughing at the rather 12)cute linguistic
13)ineptitude of their American counterparts.
Our wedding service was to be bilingual, with a Catholic priest performing the service in German, and a 14)Lutheran pastor doing the English honors. The chapel itself, hundreds of years old, was tiny. It was formal, yet inviting, and in it we found a 15)quartet waiting for the correct moment to transform the chilly chapel into a miniature classical concert.
Somehow I had been made to believe that I would be saying my wedding vows in German. So, as the priest sped through the readings in German, I found myself attempting to play back his last six to eight words and subsequently say them, with correct pronunciation, in my head. By the time I realized he was as lost as I was (he was following the “English” 16)protocol from a 17)pamphlet), it was time to answer a few quick questions, of which I remember exactly one. Stumbling over his English, the priest became slightly frustrated while attempting to ask a question about how we’d raise any future children. I waited. Finally, uttered more as a statement than a question, he blurted out, “18)Kinder?” (“Children?”) Not understanding exactly how to respond, I hesitated.
“Just say ‘Ja’!” he commanded.
The audience erupted with laughter. So I did it. I just smiled and said it: “Ja.”
Afterwards, our wedding service was euphemistically described as “entertaining” and “interesting,” which, I suppose, is a lot better than simply “nice” or, 19)heaven forbid, “boring.” To further 20)muddy things up, internationally speaking, I sang Stand By Me to my new bride at the reception, and followed it by butchering the 21)venerable tradition of the Austrian waltz.
It wasn’t until later that the unintentional wisdom of “Just say ‘Ja’!” really dawned on me. Here we were, a 22)motley mix of American, Thai, Austrian and Swiss people. It didn’t matter whether or not we spoke certain languages. We got through the service with a mixture of respect and curiosity, and we’d get through the reception the same way. We were a newly created community whose 23)solidarity had been 24)engendered by the most basic, most universal language: love.
Together we had dined, conversed, taken pictures, given gifts, experienced, learned, laughed, and, for some, even cried. We had just said “Yes” to sharing our lives and our families with each other, and we had survived it all in a multicultural environment. We were a world, 25)albeit temporary, without politics or religious 26)grievances. Love had linked more than the bride and groom; it had linked cultures, it had linked worlds. The best day of my entire life? Ja. A wedding day that can, in a small but
powerful way, represent a model for humanity? Please, please! Just say “Ja!”
我盼望着一生中最美好的那一天。”随这句话而来的是相当大的压力。如果这句话指的是举办婚礼那天，压力也就变得更大。而不幸的是，这句积极的、充满希望的话不时会撞上人们的世故的怀疑。这时，“我盼望着一生中最美好的那一天”立刻就成了陈词滥调。
由于我未婚妻的移民身份，有些人早已用怀疑的眼光来看待我与她的婚事。不过，我不会过多理会这些冷嘲热讽，那些暗示我们结婚目的不单纯的推断简直是侮辱。如果我说过的那些真诚、满怀希望的话没能让所有人信服，那也无所谓。我这个高兴得发晕的美国男人根本无暇他顾，正准备飞往奥地利，在那美丽如画的阿尔卑斯山脉蒂罗尔地区，娶一位有趣的名叫托伊的泰国小女人。
奥地利西部很可能是地球上最可爱的地方。我结婚的那座教堂，常常在明信片上占据醒目的位置。
如果说这里的田园风光就暗示着这个婚礼会遵循传统仪式，那就大错特错了。托伊在泰国和奥地利两国长大，父亲是出生在瑞士的奥地利公民，母亲是泰国人。而我母亲呢，则是一个地道的美国人。我们都还没想过这个婚礼能否称得上是“国际婚礼”，屋子里已经到处都是奥地利人、瑞士人、泰国人和美国人，他们共进晚餐，努力搜索着共通点。出色的泰国风味菜，一瓶接一瓶的奥地利白葡萄酒都为文化的交融作了莫大贡献，但一如所料，人们之间真正的联系是英语。欧洲人和亚洲人都谦虚地为自己英语“不好”而道歉（但他们的英语再怎么差，也比我们对他们各自语言的蹂躏来得强些），不过我怀疑，他们内心深处其实在笑话美国人在语言方面矫揉做作的笨拙。
我们的婚礼是双语的，一名天主教神父用德语主持仪式，一名路德教的牧师用英语主持。那个有数百年历史的教堂并不大。它庄重，然而极具魅力。在教堂里，我们看到了一个四重奏乐队，正预备把这个冷冰冰的教堂变成一个小型的古典音乐厅。
不晓得什么缘故，我一直以为我会用德语说婚礼誓词。所以当牧师飞快地用德语说着那些套话时，我在脑海里试图回放他说的最后六到八个单词，并用准确的发音重复那些单词。最终，等我意识到我们俩都一头雾水的时候（他一直在跟读一本小册子里的“英语”文稿），已经到了我要快速回答问题的时候了，而我现在只记得其中的一个。牧师结结巴巴地说着英语，当他试图询问我们会怎么样培养孩子时，他有点绝望了。我等着。最后，他脱口而出，把问题说成陈述句，“孩子？”我不知道该如何回答，犹豫了一下。
“赶快说‘是’！”他命令道。
下面的人哄堂大笑。我也不例外。我微笑着说：“是。”
其后，说得好听点儿，我们的婚礼可以称得上是“有娱乐性”且“有趣”。我想，这起码比“不错”，或者——千万别——“无聊”好得多了。从国际婚礼来说，事情还有更糟的。我在婚宴上对我的新娘唱了《伴我同行》，然后又糟蹋了备受人尊崇的奥地利华尔兹传统舞蹈。
到了后来，我才真正理解了“赶快说‘是’！”这句话中不经意的睿智。我们聚集在这里，有美国人、泰国人、奥地利人和瑞士人。我们能否说某一种语言并不重要。我们心怀敬意和好奇完成了这个婚礼，并以同样的方式度过了婚宴。我们组成了一个新的团结的小社会，它是用人类最基本、最共通的语言——爱——构建而成的。
我们一起进餐、谈话、拍照、赠送礼物，共同体验、学习、大笑，有些人甚至哭了。我们开始愿意分享彼此的生活和家庭状况，在一个多元文化的环境中坚持交流。时间虽然短暂，但我们组成了一个没有政治和宗教压迫的世界。爱不仅仅把新郎和新娘连在一起，它还把各种文化、各种世界连在一起。这是我一生中最美好的一天吗？是的。这个婚礼能够以一种微小但强有力的方式成为人们的一个榜样吗？求求你，求求你了，赶快说“是”吧！
Already a light mist of suspicion had accumulated around my fiancee and myself, due to her immigrant status. But I was NOT indulging in sarcasm and the implication that we were getting married for anything but the purest reasons was 4)downright insulting. If my sincere, hopeful utterances did not convince everyone, it simply didn’t matter. I was too busy being the 5)giddy American guy, heading over to Austria, to the scenic 6)Tyrolean Alps, to marry a funny little Thai woman named Toi.
Western Austria is quite possibly the loveliest place on Earth. And the 7)chapel in which I was to be married was prominently pictured on postcards.
Despite the 8)idyllic setting, to hint that this wedding was to be dictated by tradition would be wholly inaccurate. Toi grew up in both Thailand and Austria and has a Swiss-born but Austrian-citizen father, and a Thai mother. Meanwhile, my mother is 9)as American as apple pie.
Before we’d really thought of ours as an “international wedding,” we had a house full of Austrian, Swiss, Thai, and American people, eating dinner and attempting to find common ground. Extraordinary Thai
dinners and numerous bottles of Austrian white wine went a long way toward bringing the cultures together, but as expected, the real connection was the English language. Europeans and Asians will 10)coyly apologize for their “bad” English (which is, of course, much better than our 11)butchering of their respective languages), but I suspect that, deep down, they
really, truly are laughing at the rather 12)cute linguistic
13)ineptitude of their American counterparts.
Our wedding service was to be bilingual, with a Catholic priest performing the service in German, and a 14)Lutheran pastor doing the English honors. The chapel itself, hundreds of years old, was tiny. It was formal, yet inviting, and in it we found a 15)quartet waiting for the correct moment to transform the chilly chapel into a miniature classical concert.
Somehow I had been made to believe that I would be saying my wedding vows in German. So, as the priest sped through the readings in German, I found myself attempting to play back his last six to eight words and subsequently say them, with correct pronunciation, in my head. By the time I realized he was as lost as I was (he was following the “English” 16)protocol from a 17)pamphlet), it was time to answer a few quick questions, of which I remember exactly one. Stumbling over his English, the priest became slightly frustrated while attempting to ask a question about how we’d raise any future children. I waited. Finally, uttered more as a statement than a question, he blurted out, “18)Kinder?” (“Children?”) Not understanding exactly how to respond, I hesitated.
“Just say ‘Ja’!” he commanded.
The audience erupted with laughter. So I did it. I just smiled and said it: “Ja.”
Afterwards, our wedding service was euphemistically described as “entertaining” and “interesting,” which, I suppose, is a lot better than simply “nice” or, 19)heaven forbid, “boring.” To further 20)muddy things up, internationally speaking, I sang Stand By Me to my new bride at the reception, and followed it by butchering the 21)venerable tradition of the Austrian waltz.
It wasn’t until later that the unintentional wisdom of “Just say ‘Ja’!” really dawned on me. Here we were, a 22)motley mix of American, Thai, Austrian and Swiss people. It didn’t matter whether or not we spoke certain languages. We got through the service with a mixture of respect and curiosity, and we’d get through the reception the same way. We were a newly created community whose 23)solidarity had been 24)engendered by the most basic, most universal language: love.
Together we had dined, conversed, taken pictures, given gifts, experienced, learned, laughed, and, for some, even cried. We had just said “Yes” to sharing our lives and our families with each other, and we had survived it all in a multicultural environment. We were a world, 25)albeit temporary, without politics or religious 26)grievances. Love had linked more than the bride and groom; it had linked cultures, it had linked worlds. The best day of my entire life? Ja. A wedding day that can, in a small but
powerful way, represent a model for humanity? Please, please! Just say “Ja!”
我盼望着一生中最美好的那一天。”随这句话而来的是相当大的压力。如果这句话指的是举办婚礼那天，压力也就变得更大。而不幸的是，这句积极的、充满希望的话不时会撞上人们的世故的怀疑。这时，“我盼望着一生中最美好的那一天”立刻就成了陈词滥调。
由于我未婚妻的移民身份，有些人早已用怀疑的眼光来看待我与她的婚事。不过，我不会过多理会这些冷嘲热讽，那些暗示我们结婚目的不单纯的推断简直是侮辱。如果我说过的那些真诚、满怀希望的话没能让所有人信服，那也无所谓。我这个高兴得发晕的美国男人根本无暇他顾，正准备飞往奥地利，在那美丽如画的阿尔卑斯山脉蒂罗尔地区，娶一位有趣的名叫托伊的泰国小女人。
奥地利西部很可能是地球上最可爱的地方。我结婚的那座教堂，常常在明信片上占据醒目的位置。
如果说这里的田园风光就暗示着这个婚礼会遵循传统仪式，那就大错特错了。托伊在泰国和奥地利两国长大，父亲是出生在瑞士的奥地利公民，母亲是泰国人。而我母亲呢，则是一个地道的美国人。我们都还没想过这个婚礼能否称得上是“国际婚礼”，屋子里已经到处都是奥地利人、瑞士人、泰国人和美国人，他们共进晚餐，努力搜索着共通点。出色的泰国风味菜，一瓶接一瓶的奥地利白葡萄酒都为文化的交融作了莫大贡献，但一如所料，人们之间真正的联系是英语。欧洲人和亚洲人都谦虚地为自己英语“不好”而道歉（但他们的英语再怎么差，也比我们对他们各自语言的蹂躏来得强些），不过我怀疑，他们内心深处其实在笑话美国人在语言方面矫揉做作的笨拙。
我们的婚礼是双语的，一名天主教神父用德语主持仪式，一名路德教的牧师用英语主持。那个有数百年历史的教堂并不大。它庄重，然而极具魅力。在教堂里，我们看到了一个四重奏乐队，正预备把这个冷冰冰的教堂变成一个小型的古典音乐厅。
不晓得什么缘故，我一直以为我会用德语说婚礼誓词。所以当牧师飞快地用德语说着那些套话时，我在脑海里试图回放他说的最后六到八个单词，并用准确的发音重复那些单词。最终，等我意识到我们俩都一头雾水的时候（他一直在跟读一本小册子里的“英语”文稿），已经到了我要快速回答问题的时候了，而我现在只记得其中的一个。牧师结结巴巴地说着英语，当他试图询问我们会怎么样培养孩子时，他有点绝望了。我等着。最后，他脱口而出，把问题说成陈述句，“孩子？”我不知道该如何回答，犹豫了一下。
“赶快说‘是’！”他命令道。
下面的人哄堂大笑。我也不例外。我微笑着说：“是。”
其后，说得好听点儿，我们的婚礼可以称得上是“有娱乐性”且“有趣”。我想，这起码比“不错”，或者——千万别——“无聊”好得多了。从国际婚礼来说，事情还有更糟的。我在婚宴上对我的新娘唱了《伴我同行》，然后又糟蹋了备受人尊崇的奥地利华尔兹传统舞蹈。
到了后来，我才真正理解了“赶快说‘是’！”这句话中不经意的睿智。我们聚集在这里，有美国人、泰国人、奥地利人和瑞士人。我们能否说某一种语言并不重要。我们心怀敬意和好奇完成了这个婚礼，并以同样的方式度过了婚宴。我们组成了一个新的团结的小社会，它是用人类最基本、最共通的语言——爱——构建而成的。
我们一起进餐、谈话、拍照、赠送礼物，共同体验、学习、大笑，有些人甚至哭了。我们开始愿意分享彼此的生活和家庭状况，在一个多元文化的环境中坚持交流。时间虽然短暂，但我们组成了一个没有政治和宗教压迫的世界。爱不仅仅把新郎和新娘连在一起，它还把各种文化、各种世界连在一起。这是我一生中最美好的一天吗？是的。这个婚礼能够以一种微小但强有力的方式成为人们的一个榜样吗？求求你，求求你了，赶快说“是”吧！