Day of the Turkey

Remember that first holiday you spent living away from your parent's house? Chances are, though you were living in your very first apartment, you still went to their house for some of your mom's turkey and dressing like the big chicken you are.

Spending our first holiday ever out of the States is kind of like that, except that (1) we can't pop over for a bite of family-soup and (2) we are not surrounded by reminders of the holiday. (This year I am thankful I don't have to look at dancing turkeys on the television.) There IS no Turkey Day in Romania. It is very odd knowing that one of my very favorite days (in spite of dancing turkeys with a deathwish) is happening half a world away, when there is no evidence here that it ever existed in the first place.

What we are going to do about it, of course, is gather with our hostel friends this evening and have a little Thanksgiving Dinner with them. Since Ray from Texas is no longer with us (he's not dead, he's in Prague) we will be relying on Luca from Canada to help us out, since Canadians also celebrate Thanksgiving. They do it in October, but still. Luca knows all about cranberry sauce and that's enough to convince me.

Our other hostel friends, Spanish Betty, UK Steve, Andreas of Norway and The Girls will be enjoying their First Thanksgiving Ever, which will probably closely resemble our many other hostel feasts, except that we will do our best to souffle some kind of Romanian squash since there don't seem to be sweet potatoes here.