The Ballad of Zhenia and Niko

Georgians, like a lot of Europeans, get married twice – once in an “official” civil ceremony and once in the church.  Our friend, Niko, was married several years ago in a civil ceremony.  Since his wife, Zhenia, became pregnant, however, she’s been thinking about getting married in the church so their baby can be christened/baptized in the church. Niko's been trying to make that happen, but he's been divorced before, something the Eastern Orthodox Church does not take lightly or kindly. So he's been talking to the Bishop of Tbilisi to get the Georgian equivalent of an annulment so he can make a church wedding happen. I say "talking to" when "financially negotiating" might be a better description. The Bishop decides Niko can get married in the Church if he makes a rather sizable "donation" to the Patriarchate (somewhere in the neighborhood of $2000). But, and here's the catch: he must get married TODAY. Seems that once he annuls the first marriage, Niko would be living in sin (despite the civil ceremony) so he has to get married immediately or move out of the apartment he shares with his wife and parents. Niko obviously decides to get married today.

So, since we're on the way to work while all this is happening, we do a U-turn and head back to Tbilisi while Niko makes phone calls. The only thing scarier than Niko's driving is Niko's driving while he's on the phone. His first call is not to his wife, as one would expect, but to his father to find out if the "donation" is reasonable. After determining that $2k is steep but reasonable (considering Niko has no choice in the matter), Niko calls the Bishop and agrees to get married today. Note he still hasn't called his wife.

Niko then calls his designated best man so he can leave work early for the wedding. He still hasn't called his wife.  As an afterthought, Niko says to us, "You guys want to come to my wedding?" We say, sure, why not? There's nothing good on TV tonight anyway.  THEN he calls Zhenia to break the news to her. She isn't thrilled, but what can she do? This is all her idea. Now, Zhenia's parents live in Moscow; they're not coming to the wedding. Niko's mother and sister are in NYC at the sister's house. They're not coming, either.

As we drop off Niko at his flat, Zhenia comes tearing down the steps (well, as much as a woman in her 7th month of pregnancy can "tear"). She has to go to the hairdresser. She gives Niko the stink eye, but what can he do? So off she goes -- zoom. Or more accurately, -- waddle.  We Americans meet in a local bar to have a beer and some lunch and wait for the announcement. Did I mention that Niko doesn't know exactly WHERE they're getting married or WHEN? Other than somewhere in Tbilisi today.

Eventually, we get a call that the wedding will be in 10 minutes at the oldest church in Tbilisi, the Basilica of St. Mary. Fortunately and coincidentally, we're IN the bar right next to the church, so we chug our beers and head over for the ceremony.

The ceremony is typical Eastern Orthodox. The women wear scarves (makes you wonder why Zhenia had to get her hair done), and the maid of honor has a piece of material wrapped around her waist to simulate a skirt since she's in pants. The only men wearing ties are the Americans.  Everyone else is in jeans and sweaters.  The church is cold, so the wedding party wears coats. A quick ceremony and they're married.

We congratulate the slightly breathless and annoyed couple, and head back to the bar to celebrate.  Niko tells us that there will be a “small reception party” at a local restaurant sometime tonight.  He’ll call us.

The call comes at 7:30pm:  “Hey, where are you?  We’re celebrating at the Fortuna.  Nothing big, just me and Zhenia and some friends.  Come on down.”  Not wanting to be rude, and because there’s no beer in my fridge, we head to the Fortuna Restaurant for a “small party.”  I must be the stupidest man in Georgia.

His “small party” is a full-blown supra for approximately 30 people.  Which means there’s enough food and alcohol for 60 people.  We certainly don’t want to offend the overwhelmed and slightly inebriated groom and his lovely and flustered bride, so we dive right in to the whole supra scene.  On a school night.  When we have a very important briefing the next day to the US Deputy Assistant Secretary of Defense for Eurasia.  I said I must be the stupidest man in Georgia.  We finally escape from the restaurant four hours later with the party still in full flight and the bride sleeping peacefully in an overstuffed chair in the corner covered by a tablecloth. 

Just another typically Georgian event, but one I’m glad I got to experience.  Thanks for reading.