The Wanderer's Thanksgiving Table

On the last Thursday of every November, families all across the U.S. come together to share their love and gratefulness for each other. Children play in the autumn leaves and, if snowfall is generous that year, are finally able to drag their sleds out of storage. Aunts and uncles and grandparents share cutting boards to save counter space; six different oven timers are set for seven different times, and A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving plays at low volume in the living room. At 4pm the turkey comes out of the oven, and all sit down to a feast. The evening progresses with reminisces, wine, sugar coated passive-aggressive comments about the upcoming election and a sibling's career choice, children sneaking finger dips into the whipped cream, and a dog fight or two over food dropped under the table. At nightfall, family members struggle to swallow their last bite of pie before succumbing to the food coma on the couch and peacefully drifting off to sleep, as another Thanksgiving has come to a nearly vomit-free close.

Meanwhile, all across the world, travelers and expats awake on Thanksgiving day to no festive music on the radio. They go to work, where there is no holiday for which to give a day off. No giant inflatable turkeys are displayed in windows. People on the street go about their normal business.

But on my walk to work on November 28th, a fellow gringo who I have hardly just met shouts "Happy Thanksgiving!" to me from across the street. A gust of wind throws over a few umbrellas and leaves are ripped off of the trees, cutting my face as they fall and filling my body with the warmth of reminiscing of Colorado's autumn leaves. On the way home, I walk by a sign, written in English, advertising turkey that my traveler's budget can't afford. I pass the sign and head towards the market, where I buy two chickens instead.

Elizabeth says, "Show all your Facebook friends how gross
the inside of this raw chicken is!"

My roommate Kayla and I start cooking around 4:00, having left work "early" to prepare for our Thanksgiving feast. Celine and Cecile, Chilean and French travelers whom my roommates met in Mexico, help us whip the egg whites until stiff (which, without an automatic whisk, takes three people switching off). Elizabeth, my fellow Starfish volunteer, arrives a little after 5:00 with our new friend Angus and his coworker, Erin. They arrange a cheese platter and pour glasses of Chilean wine (real cheese is a monthly treat). Patrick, my second roommate, comes home at 5:30 and we begin to prepare the chickens. Angus whips up a mind-blowing stuffing from baguette scraps, some cooked veggies, garlic, and chicken soup powder. The chicken goes in the oven at 6:30, just as Allison, another volunteer, and Leif, a world traveler spending some time in Guatemala, walk in the door.

Candles and one-eyed turkeys provide
our Thanksgiving ambiance.

We set the table for 11. This involves combining our dining room table with one of our desks, bringing in the plastic chairs from the backyard, and interspersing four barstools (where we would make the shorter people sit). We are able to scavenge six candles from around the house. Elizabeth and I have made turkeys out of toilet paper rolls and construction paper at a Thanksgiving craft party for 3-6 year olds; they now act as center pieces.

At 8:00 p.m., the chickens come out of the oven. Angus elegantly carves them onto a cutting board (which he is sharing with Patrick to save counter space). Cranberry sauce, stuffing, vegetables, mashed potatoes, and guacamole (a Celine and Cecile specialty) line the table. And we take our seats - one big, strange, international, and jolly family - in our chairs of varying heights, as Prince Royce plays at low volume in the living room.

Clockwise, starting from far left: Angus (pretend adult), Patrick (snowboarder with a degree in international economics), Eliza (fake-it-till-I-make-it travel expert), Elizabeth (tour guide who went to art school), Erin (real grownup), Celine (Chilean slowly heading home), Cecile (French with no known destination), Leif (run-away travel blogger), Allison (designer with great Vietnamese accent). Photographer: Kayla (professional short-term employee)