A traditional, all-night, foot-stomping wedding reception

July 20, 2003|Peter DeMarco, Globe Correspondent

ARHUS, Denmark -- After five hours of nonstop speeches, raucous song, and more rounds of wine and other drink than I could count, the call went out to every man still able to stand in the castle's centuries-old ballroom. Hoisting the groom mosh pit-style above our shoulders, we plucked off his black shoes, put scissors to the ends of his outstretched socks, and unceremoniously snipped them off. Cries of "Skal! Skal!" echoed through the hall as the groom wiggled his naked toes and wild dancing commenced. The Danish, so I learned, take their wedding traditions seriously, even the goofy ones.

We all know the Danes can make pastry. But believe me, they can also throw a party the likes of which you have never seen. Though the bride walked down the aisle at 3 p.m., I didn't stumble back to my room until sunrise the next morning. The setting for my friends' wedding, meanwhile, was straight out of a fairy tale, with a simple service in a lakeside chapel followed by a night of revelry in a 16th-century castle nestled among the rye fields of the Danish countryside. Cross your fingers you and hope you get invited to one of these shindigs some day.

The bride, Victoria Marcinkowski, a former professional dancer turned journalist, is a native of Arhus, Denmark's second-largest city. The groom, a blond-haired Bentley College graduate named Brian Woodward, hails from Colorado.

I got to know them in graduate school and last fall they asked me to be in their wedding party. I soon learned, though, that Danish weddings do not normally have groomsmen or bridesmaids. We were there at Brian's request.

The couple also asked me to give a speech, an honor I gladly accepted. More than a dozen people speak at Danish weddings, so many that a "toastmaster" is appointed to schedule speeches.

The ceremony was in Danish, with the minister repeating the sermon in English for the benefit of the 25 or so Americans who had made the 2,000-mile journey. We threw rice at the newlyweds as they emerged from the church and hopped into their funky wedding car: a 1969 white Cadillac convertible with tiny US and Danish flags flying diplomat-style from the front fenders. The car was the last vestige of Yankee influence at the wedding.

Though everyone spoke English for the Americans' benefit for the remainder of the night, the reception was traditional in every other way.

The bride and groom strolled into the main dining hall of the Rosenholm Castle to a standing ovation. Thanking their guests, who had traveled from as far as California and Poland, they took a seat at the head table.

Within moments, Victoria's side of the family began stomping their feet, an order for the couple to crawl under the table and kiss. Such playfulness was repeated several times throughout the evening.