Going Bananas Part II

On the one hand, it's terribly exciting to be seeing my family again after more than eight months, to be walking, talking (and fighting) with them in person rather than the telephone calls. But the thing is, M. and I are not going for a holiday to Seoul - we are going there to be the main performers in a massive, overblown drama as bride and groom. So my mind seesaws between joy and anxiety ("Whoo hoo! I'll be having mum's cooking!" "Shoot, I don't even know where the hairdresser's is, or whether the bouquet has been ordered!") all day long.

The painful thing at the moment is that, despite my conversation with my parents and M.'s parents having a talk with my parents, my mum decided to send M.'s parents a dowry anyway.
"Your parents are just trying to make sure everything is done in the traditional formal way, since it's the first wedding in your family," H., a friend of mine from Seoul, said, in an attempt to soothe me when I called him in a fractious manner.

I know why my parents are doing what they are doing. They're trying to make sure we follow tradition impeccably. I never would have consented to my parents presenting M.'s parents with a dowry. This is too medieval, too undignifying. Why should anyone have to pay for consenting adults joining in matrimony? It's frustrating, but it is too late now to do anything about it. So M.'s parents now feel they should do something in return, and M.'s mum called to tell me she's expecting to see me at an appointment to tailor a hanbok, the flouncy Korean dress. I've never worn one, and I don't know if I'll ever have the occasion to wear it past this wedding, but all this is really beyond my control.

They say in Korea the wedding isn't about the bride and groom, it's about the family. I can testify to that, and I would recommend eloping to combat the situation. Go to Bali or Hawaii you unmarrieds, and be wed in peace.