It’s March. By this point, even this winter-obsessed girl has begun to tire of the cold. However, I will always say YES to a snow day! I woke up this… Read more “Thank’s, Obama, for the snow day!”
One if by land, two if by sea…is it three if by air? My last few weeks of winter freedom (before the insanity of work and grad… Read more “Into the Winter”
I live on quite a busy street: cars and trucks rumble by at all hours. They’re my alarm clocks, really. When the horns and engines reach a certain… Read more “Calm and Bright”
Musing and reflection may soon follow, but for now, simply some photos from my week spent drinking coffee, learning Swedish, kayaking in the archipelago, exploring Stockholm and… Read more “Coffee and Kayaking: A Trip to Sweden”
Although on this side of the pond the winter has really been quite mild, the first sunny weekend of the year still feels like heaven on earth.… Read more “She Loves Paris, Yoga, and the Sun”
I was a free man in Paris I felt unfettered and alive There was nobody calling me up for favors And no one’s future to decide You… Read more “Sittin’ in a park in Paris, France…”
And after a good long break…we’re back! Enjoy some photos from the past month: the nice-effort Christmas lights of Troyes; the stunning decorations of Strasbourg, France’s Christmas… Read more “Il était une fois Noël…”
A little vin chaud, some Christmas songs to sing along to, and plates full of cookies to decorate (and eat!) make the gray Troyes weather much more bearable.
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.