For my wedding reception in India, I had a traditional mehendi, or henna, evening.
I began at 4 p.m. with up to four people drawing this intricate ancient art on my hands, arms, and feet. While I sat, other female members of my husband’s family arrived, getting a flowery henna design on their hands that is strangely called an arabic style, even though it looks rather like the flowers on a Hawaiian shirt. The men arrived, eating, feeding their henna-covered wives, waiting for the singing and dancing to begin. Finally, after four hours of sitting (relatively) still, I was finished.
Only to have it all wiped away by the sand.