I know I’m a little behind here, but I absolutely must write about a few other things before getting to my Swiss, French, and Belgian adventure this past week.

Two weekends ago I had probably the most memorable Thanksgiving of my life. It had quite a build up, as I spent the entire week telling my students about this holiday we have in the United States in which we eat ridiculous amounts of turkey and potatoes with our families. My friend, Caitlin, who lives in Almuñécar, a town about an hour east from here, was gracious enough to host the dinner. All I really had to do was make the sweet potato casserole (which turned out perfectly) and show up.

So on Friday that weekend (like all things in Spain, we did this a little late) two other friends from Málaga and I headed out to Almuñécar. The guests included three Americans and about eight Spaniards, who were mostly Caitlin’s coworkers. For all of them this was their first Thanksgiving, and they were very curious to experience for themselves what they have seen in movies so many times. After helping with the final touches on most of the dishes, we served dinner to oohs and aahs.

The food was amazing, and Caitlin deserves a trophy for plucking the turkey (Yes, it came with feathers still attached. Not very many people ask for whole turkeys here). We had all the necessities: turkey, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, cranberries, banana cream pie for dessert, and plenty of Spanish wine to go around.

However, what made the dinner truly memorable were the priceless reactions from our Spanish friends. When I told them what the sweet potato casserole contained they were skeptical that a sweet vegetable dish would be good, but by the end of the meal they were sold. All agreed that Thanksgiving is a fantastic tradition that they would like to celebrate for years to come.

Anyone who knows me at all knows that I am not exactly the biggest patriot, but living outside the U.S. is gradually changing that. I was excited to have shared American pastimes with others, and whether or not the “family” I celebrated with is actually my blood family, I am thankful for the experience.

This entry was posted in Expat Life and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s