Every wedding teaches me something. This one reminded me that some of the most meaningful moments can't be understood at first listen. I spent hours with a translator, carefully working through each speech to find the stories and emotions behind the words. It was a slower process than usual, but one that felt incredibly rewarding.
What I'll remember most wasn't Mount Fuji, although it was spectacular. It was watching two families from different cultures become one. Seeing strangers become friends over a shared meal, hearing speeches filled with love and humour, and witnessing a celebration that felt less like a wedding and more like a reunion that had been waiting to happen.
Tucked away between the hills in a quiet valley beneath Mount Fuji, the winery felt almost hidden from the rest of the world. The daylight was warm and gentle, but as soon as the sun slipped behind the mountains, the cold followed quickly. Blankets were passed around, everyone wrapped themselves a little tighter, and somehow it only made the evening feel warmer.
The speeches moved between English and Thai, which meant a lot of time spent with a translator afterwards, carefully understanding each story and finding the moments that carried the most weight.
It was a lot of work, but so worth it. There was something incredibly heartwarming about hearing the same love expressed in two different languages. I think different languages pull at the heartstrings in different ways. The words, the rhythm, the way emotion is expressed, it all carries its own kind of weight.
Once everything was translated and I could finally understand the stories behind the laughter and tears, the film took on a whole new meaning.
The night ended with a raffle, with prizes ranging from prized Japanese liquor to an iPhone 17 Pro Max. One last bit of excitement before everyone piled into the vans and headed home, ready to rest before the long journey back to their corners of the world. A quiet ending to a day that had brought everyone so far from home, together in one place.
