Blogabroad
by Mary Pinckney Waters
November 24, 2005 - Thanksgiving
We pulled it off. A group of 20-somethings thousands of
miles away from their mommies pulled it off: Thanksgiving
in Germany.
It wasn't easy. First, we had to endure the obnoxious instant
messages from friends back in the states: "Have fun
at school today. It seems I don't have to go, seeing as my
whole country is taking the day off" or "Hope you
get to watch plenty of football today! Oh wait, Germans don't
play American football. What a shame."
Well, what are friends for, anyway -- if not to make you
feel like crap on a national holiday that nobody around you
knows about.
But we weren't going to let our friends do their job; we
weren't going to feel like crap on Thanksgiving. On Friday
the American exchange students in Bamberg mustered themselves
into the community kitchen in Hornthalstraße's dormitory
to claim a few German square feet (or meters, what have you)
as American territory for some hours.
First, we invaded Bamberg's spread of grocery stores in
a raid for any remotely American ingredients. Then we shelled
out international-phone-call charges for the sake of our
taste buds' well-being: we phoned home to ask Mom for those
secret family recipes (as well as some "cooking for
dummies" instructions). Finally, we googled conversions
for Fahrenheit to Celsius, ounces to milliliters and Budweisers
to Warsteiners.
Then we tried to remember everything we had ever learned
while watching The Food Channel, or rather, we tried to convince
ourselves we actually did learn something other than how
to say "Bam!" and add a splash more than required
of any unhealthy ingredient. Well, we put that lonely expertise
to use and added twice as much butter to every dish until
the entire top floor smelled like a Land O' Lakes factory.
What? Honestly, can you say anything against that? You
know you like to use too much butter. Come on, admit it.
Anyway, we shoved our buttery creations in the oven, made
bets on the edibility of the finished products, and crossed
our fingers.
A little while later, 10 of us sat around pushed-together
tables in the dorm's event room with a Thanksgiving spread
any grandma would be proud of, as the occasional German student
strolled by with a what-the-heck expression. We served food
in tin-foil platters, used no napkins (as they were out of
the budget), and forced the corks into our wine bottles (as
a bottle opener was also out of budget).
Forks entered mouths for the first time, eyebrows jumped
and quiet veiled the room. The food tasted two times better
because we hadn't indulged in a full-fledged American meal
in three months and five times better because we'd expected
it to taste like cardboard. Well, buttery cardboard.
"So what are you guys thankful for?" asked Wes,
our group's manager-type.
"Turkey!"
"Macaroni and cheese."
"Friends."
Friends, indeed. As long as you have them (along with some
macaroni and cheese), I think you can have home wherever
you are.
Mary Pinckney Waters welcomes your
comments and feedback: marypwaters@yahoo.com |
