Wedding rehearsal / Courtesy of David Tizzard

I attended my first Korean wedding in the winter of 2005, trudging through the snow in an ill-fitting suit to an unfamiliar venue. I wasn't heading to a church. The invitation said that it was a "wedding hall." My only instructions were to bring cash. I wasn't quite sure what for but I had a bunch of green 10,000s tucked in my jacket pocket. The 50,000s didn't exist yet. Having grown up in the U.K., I was used to churches, drunk bridesmaids, discos, uncles smoking cigars and very late nights. I was about to experience something very different.

As I made my way up the elevator, I saw a sea of people dressed in dark suits and ties. I walked over and was greeted by a smiling old lady in a "hanbok" (Korean traditional clothing). I wrote my name in a book and was about to hand over the money I had prepared but then someone shouted my name. A co-worker had seen me walk in the wrong direction and was frantically waving at me from the other side of room. I was at the wrong wedding. There was more than one wedding? And people sometimes attend two or three weddings a day?

Wedding halls

All Korean weddings are slightly different but many of them will follow a similar pattern. Before the ceremony begins, people loiter in a lobby, greeting each other. The women grab each others' hands and shake them up and down as they let forth high-pitched shouts of “Unnie,” or some such. The men stand back, hands clasped either in front or behind of them, occasionally bowing to people. The bride sits in a room and people run in for photos, sitting their children on the lap and crowding around for the best shot. The clever people make their way into the hall early to get a seat.

The actual wedding ceremony itself often only lasts about 30 minutes. First, the mothers will walk down the aisle in hanboks and then light a candle at the front of the room. These are often the only hanboks you will see. It's somewhat ironic that the eldest women are asked to wear something so traditionally Korean while everyone else wears Western clothes. The groom will then make his entrance to whoops and cheers. He will often be wearing white gloves like a magician or a snooker referee. Upon arriving at the front, he'll turn and bow to the room. My favorite memory of this part is when my best friend walked down the aisle. I thought I had trained him in all the protocol and etiquette but my heart sank when he turned to the room and bowed but kept his eyes up, looking at people for recognition and acknowledgment. I felt every smothered chuckle deep in my plums. The bride then enters, escorted down the aisle by her father. This is often the highlight of the ceremony and the most emotional. It's generally all downhill after that.

All of this sounds pretty standard so far. But the noises, the movement, the rustling and the children: Everything is so different from what I'm used to. An English church is normally silent during a wedding, people whisper and exchange furtive glances. In a Korean wedding hall, however, the noise levels are far higher. At the first one I attended, an old lady ran down the aisle, pushing in front of the bride so as to get a chair next to her friends. Photographers run in and out of the seats, jostling for position. And the bride will constantly have someone picking at her dress, straightening things out and adjusting the material even during the ceremony.

The couple stands at the front and the person officiating the wedding will give some words of encouragement. The person in charge might be an elderly relative, a Buddhist monk, a priest, someone employed by the wedding hall, or, in some situations, even a British man, who was asked to do it because his suits are no longer ill-fitting and apparently he has an accent that will sound good.

Courtesy of Morgan Sessions

Changing culture

You will probably know that Koreans love singing. They sing when they are sad. They sing when they are happy. They sing in groups, and they sing alone at coin "noraebangs" (karaokes). They also sing at weddings. One of the features of a modern wedding is to have a friend of the married couple perform a song. As they sing the ballad of choice, the couple faces them and looks at their friend for the awkward three to four minutes this takes place. It used to be that the groom would have the soles of his feet beaten by friends until the bride agreed to sing and set him free, but modernization has done away with that culture. As far as I can make out, the current culture of having a friend sing has only been in place for a few decades at most.

After that, the couple will bow to the two sets of parents. If the man performs a deep bow by getting down on his knees and placing his head on the floor this normally receives murmurs of approval amongst the elderly and the odd “Aigo!” The couple then walk back down the aisle together to flashing cameras and the sound of phones clicking. At the end they'll kiss each other for the first time and the ceremony is done. Korean people like things done “bballi-bballi” and weddings are no exception. Those not in the family run down to the buffet to start eating all the sushi and "galbi." Relatives have to stay behind and congregate for the big group photos. A man normally shouts at people, moving everyone into position until he's satisfied with the chaotic arrangement of kids, grandparents and uncles, and the weird foreigner sticking out at the end.

A lot of photos for Korean weddings are amazing! Before and after the ceremony you'll see photos of the bride and groom arranged on tables. At some places, there'll be a slideshow of them on a big screen while you eat. This is all very different from the hungover and windblown attempts at decorum I had seen at British weddings.

The main photos will be taken two to three months before the actual ceremony. The bride and groom will go to a studio and perform a whole variety of poses with props and backgrounds. The vibe is normally something like 1930s England, with kettles, old cameras and chairs. They look brilliant but it does feel weird getting dressed up for a wedding months before the event. It's even weirder when you go to your friend's place and see their wedding photos on their wall — and they went to the same studio and have the same backgrounds and props in theirs.

The end

After the ceremony, the food is the main event for most people. That you only have to wait 30 minutes is brilliant. If you're at a wedding hall, there'll be beer and soju on each table. The Korean churches sadly don't always follow this protocol. You generally have around 90 minutes to eat and drink your way through everything on offer. As you do, the bride and groom will make their way round each table, greeting people, and thanking them for coming. By this point, the bride will be in her second outfit of the event. The wedding dress will have been replaced by a more formal gown.

It used to be common for people to perform a "paebaek" ceremony and have the couple dress up in traditional clothes and perform all sorts of traditional ceremonies that determine how many children they will have. I haven't seen one of these for a few years, however. To be fair, once you have seen a few of them, they kind of lose their excitement. But it's always fun watching the groom stick the bride on his back and carry her around the room.

And then, you're done. Pushed out into the cold streets. Many will head to a coffee shop to catch up with friends before heading home. The family will stay behind counting the money they received and making a note of who gave what. There is no disco. There's no kid sliding across the floor on his knees. There are no uncles with their ties around their head embarrassing themselves to disco music. No men holding up the bar and moving slowly up the shelves, from pints, to port, to whiskey. And no group of women making a circle around their handbags.

Korean weddings are very different. I was shocked when I first attended one and thought they were doing it all wrong. Today, I attended two, made a good impression on everyone with my language skills and formality, and am back home by early evening with a drink in my hand. Maybe they have got something right, after all?

David A. Tizzard has a doctorate in Korean Studies and lectures at Seoul Women's University and Hanyang University. He is a social-cultural commentator and musician who has lived in Korea for nearly two decades. He is also the host of the "Korea Deconstructed" podcast, which can be found online. He can be reached at datizzard@swu.ac.kr.