In a foreign country, everything is strange. You walk the streets like a child, trying to understand the stream of newness pouring over you.
I was in Kyoto to see the gardens, which are marvelously strange, and unlike anything in Europe. We went one day to a fancy hotel to see a vertical garden: an interior wall, planted in mosses and orchids and vines. We couldn’t get close, because it was in a reception room where a private event was being held. We stood in the doorway, in the back.
The room was full of seated well-dressed people. They were all watching the stage, which held a young couple and a middle-aged woman. The older woman stood at a podium, with a book and a microphone. The young man wore a dark suit and the young woman wore a long white dress. Clearly they were getting married. The officiant spoke and they answered, in a formal ritual exchange. I couldn’t understand the words, but I understood the import, the grave message of commitment and responsibility.
When it was over the groom turned to the bride. He was much taller than she, and he leaned down toward her. He put his hands on her shoulders, moving his face close to hers. But the bride shrank away, her body dropping, her head turning to one side, refusing him.
It was a mystery. What was this strange ritual, the approach, withdrawal, public rejection? For a moment they were motionless on the stage, his hands poised over her shoulders, her hands behind her back, face turned utterly away.
Then I became aware of something—movement and sound—that was rippling through the audience. It started in the front and ran softly through the guests in their elegant clothes. It reached all the way to the back to the foreigners in the doorway. It was a ripple of laughter.
The bride had got the giggles. Her body shrank because she couldn’t hold herself sober. Her body had given way to that joyful explosion that laughter makes inside us. As her groom approached, something had taken her over. And that something had taken over the audience. Everyone felt the visceral recognition of this private, intimate eruption. Everyone was giggling quietly, remembering how delight takes over your body. We all gave way, remembering how gravity is only one side of something else, something that can’t be controlled, something that makes us helpless and unrestrained and joyful.
The giggle spread quietly through us, quick and subversive. We were invaded by laughter. Then, like a wave, it smoothed itself out and vanished into the sand. The bride straightened, her face turned serious. The giggle had moved through her. She straightened and looked up at the groom. Her face was now calm and radiant.
Again he leaned toward her, now hesitant, aware that anything could happen, any kind of explosion might pull them apart.
But it did not. He brought his mouth to hers, she lifted her lips, and they kissed. We watched, remembering that, too.