A Nomad’s Thanksgiving

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I have not spent a Thanksgiving in the United States since 2009. C’est fou, hein! That’s totally crazy! Even crazier: in the last eight years, I don’t think I’ve had any two Thanksgivings in the same city.

Just another example of this nomadic life I lead.

This past weekend, I celebrated a belated Thanksgiving at the home of my flat-mate’s cousin, an American who has been living in Brussels for about three years. As the seat of the European Parliament, Brussels is one of the most international cities I’ve ever visited. Walking down the street, it is perfectly normal to hear French, Dutch, or German (the three official languages of Belgium), but also to hear people speaking Spanish, English, Portuguese, Italian, or Russian—citizens of the world all transitionally calling Brussels home.

Our Thanksgiving was similarly diverse: two Americans, one Colombian-American (me!), a Chinese-American-Belgian, a Belgian of French decent, an Irish woman, a man from Holland, a Dutch-Iranian-American, and a Frenchwoman. You’ll think it’s strange, but I think this diverse crowd actually provided me with my most traditional American Thanksgiving yet!

As a first generation American on one side of my family, and as a member of a very spread out American family on the other side, Thanksgiving was rarely a major event growing up.  It was an annual day off school, but only an occasional cause for large celebration. I remember one year volunteering at a soup kitchen, several quiet Thanksgivings at family friends’ houses (often also homes of mixed-nationalities), a couple years eating at fancy restaurants, and several Thanksgivings celebrated abroad (mostly as an adult). Thanksgiving was always spent somewhere new, traditions were barely existent, and appreciation for the holiday didn’t have much opportunity to grow.

It is only as an adult, and an American living abroad, that I’ve really come to love Thanksgiving. Far from home and from family, I miss Thanksgiving’s beautiful excuse for families to gather together at table, laughing, talking, joking, sharing, loving, and yes, eating, for long hours of the day and night.

It’s a dash of melancholy and a pinch of longing that makes this wanderer value Thanksgiving. However, I’ve also learned to love expat Thanksgivings. Although Saturday was the first time I’d met any of the people I celebrated this holiday with, it didn’t feel like sitting down at table with nine strangers. For, since holidays are for family, and our blood relatives were far, we created our own family. Over the years, that hodgepodge family of mine has been a whole host of crazy characters: sometimes my family was a roommate; sometimes it was a host family; sometimes it was Europeans who learned to love Thanksgiving through an American son- or daughter-in-law; sometimes it was fellow Peace Corps Volunteers; and sometimes it was the random Ukrainian met in a hostel who helped make a last-minute-decision pumpkin pie.

This Thanksgiving felt more typical and traditional than any I’d ever celebrated. This was due partially to the large group gathered, partially to the enormous table laden with traditional dishes (Of which I partook this year. As a former vegetarian I used to reach only for green beans and salad, avoiding the turkey, stuffing, and gravy.), and partially for the very honest feelings of gratitude I felt this year.

Sometimes expat life is difficult in a way that most people don’t realize. Living abroad is not all romance, as it is often stereotyped to be. Life abroad is just life, with all its ups and downs and twists and turns. But it is also life made a little harder by not having family or familiarity close by. Yet this Thanksgiving, I remembered the wonderful parts of this nomadic life that I lead. I felt thankful for the blessings that come with wandering, wondering, and travelling through life. I spent a day with a wonderful new set of friends; I found family among strangers; I heard the most interesting stories; I got to experience a little more of the world. And for all of these things, this little nomad is truly thankful.

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4 thoughts on “A Nomad’s Thanksgiving

  1. So glad you had a ‘thankful’ Thanksgiving. I was trying to think of the last time that I had Thanksgiving with my Ulrich side of the family, and honestly cannot remember when it was; probably more than 20 years since I’ve been married to Rowdy Newingham for more than that number of years and haven’t left Texas in winter since before being married…so I can understand how you feel, Alexandra or should I now call you Sasha (nope – since I can’t seem to call your Father George instead of Jorge!). I’m glad you had new-found friends to celebrate with. Your pictures are interesting as usual and I’m also glad you are a ‘former vegetarian’ – as meats taste so good! Keep warm, dear niece, and know that you are loved and thought of often. Aunt Shirley

    1. :) I had a great time! I hope you enjoy the pictures. I’ll send them along with Katy on a flash drive in a couple weeks too.

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