I honestly thought it would make no difference if I skipped celebrating Thanksgiving this year. After all, the rest of Europe would take no notice of our little American holiday, and I wouldn't either if I could manage to avoid Facebook for the day. Luckily for me, I have wonderful friends who believe in the power of mashed potatoes and patriotic celebrations in Barcelona hostels. This is the story of an expat Thanksgiving. (And I'm not quite sure we fit the exact definition of "expatriate" but lets go with it.)
It began as a normal day. Well, normal for us. Actually, that's not true either, because our week long stay in Barcelona was shared with (dun dun nun na!) Kurt Oleson, who flew all the way from Boston to spend his Thanksgiving break with us. So many thanks for your presence! After traveling as two for so long, it was fun to have another person involved in the mix. It shed light on the little ways Liz and I have adjusted to life on the road with each other. For example, I know that for hangover breakfast we need to settle for the incredibly average-looking cafe on the corner because Liz will not have the stamina to search for a better one in her fragile state.
Back to that morning! Kurt, Liz and I left our apartment style hostel and walked down the popular La Rambla for the hundredth time. It's a must-see street in Barcelona, but by the end of our stay we were taking any possible route to circumvent the demanding tapas restaurants and men selling beer and glowing parachute toys. There is one haven tucked between all this madness: La Boqueria. This food market had equivalent amounts of chaos, as most markets do, but it was the kind that made your senses come alive. We were surrounded by heaps of fresh fruit and vegetables, rows of juices, gelato, giant sea creature still moving on the ice, old ladies laughing and chatting as they butcher the head off of a fish. One stand in the fish section had only one fish, it was so massive that they just kept hacking pieces of it off to sell. Needless to say, we frequented this place for the food as well as the entertainment. We got breakfast here on Thanksgiving, as well as ingredients for our dinner.
It's not every Thanksgiving that you can go by foot to the Gaudí houses before cooking commences, which is precisely what we did. Casa Batlló and Casa Milà are two of Catalan architect Antoni Gaudí's designs. We were pleasantly surprised to find them nestled between the more traditional buildings of Passeig de Gràcia, a wide high street. I really do enjoy his work, his modern architecture is unlike anything I've ever seen, and is especially refreshing after all of the Gothic and Renaissance style we've seen repeated throughout Europe. On other days, we visited Sagrada Familia and Park Güell to get our fill of Gaudí.
The next stage of Thanksgiving Day was grocery shopping for the food we couldn't find at the market. We hadn't intended to cook a feast, but there were a few dishes we wanted to make, like mashed potatoes and nachos. (We had to capitalize on the availability of queso, in case you were wondering.) After stopping twice in Carrefour, once in Dia, and once in the tiny Asian grocer across the street for a few simple ingredients, I flooded in frustration with European grocery stores. It had been building up for the past two and half months, to be honest. Why is there only one brand of overpriced salsa? Why isn't there cookie dough when I need it? Combined with how accustomed I am to abundance at Thanksgiving, I must admit I missed the ease and familiarity of being in my own country. Luckily Kurt was there to follow me around with a basket as we went up and down the stairs looking for tortilla chips. It's not about the food, anyway, but rather, the company.
The grocery crisis took long enough that we were forced to forgo siesta. Another problem: I'm not very knowledgable about cooking, so I stood by while Kurt and Liz attempted to peel and cut the mysteriously hard "squash" that we had purchased earlier. We never did find out exactly what it was, but it was delicious. Enya spotify was the soundtrack to our making-do in the hostel's little kitchen. The hostel, by the way, was entirely empty, so it quickly became our own space where we could do as we pleased. After an hour or two, we had produced an amount of food that pleasantly surprised us. It may not have been the classic thanksgiving lineup, considering we replaced turkey with nachos among other tweaks, but that didn't stop us from reaching the ultimate Thanksgiving goal: getting ungodly full to the point that we all needed to lay on the couch.
That definitely happened. But in all seriousness, what made our dinner a true Thanksgiving was the fact that we each shared something we were thankful for (at my request, it's a tradition), and we had a chance to reflect on how far we come (or gone) in only 365 days. I would have never imagined last Thanksgiving that, in a year, I would be in Barcelona, with two people I met at Tufts, drinking crappy wine we bought at a Supermercat. I'm still so struck by the unpredictable ends the cumulation of our choices brings us to, even in the short span of one year.
I know this blog post is belated, but I'm going to give my thanks anyway. I couldn't be more thankful for being on this incredible, ridiculous trip. I've learned so much about the world and about myself already. I'm thankful for the people who supported us in this endeavor: our parents, family, friends, counselors. For those who have helped us along the way with their advice or kindness, or by opening their homes to us. I'm thankful for Liz and my miraculous relationship, which allows us to be in silence together and also share things no one else would want to hear, and that has impressed people who are used to hearing travel partner horror stories. I'm thankful for Kurt coming to visit, we wouldn't have pulled off Thanksgiving without your help and your spirit. Thanks for bringing us a piece of home. Literally...the Poptarts and Cracklin' Oat Bran were just what we needed.
If you're still reading, I hope you had an equally (ful)filling Thanksgiving, and props for making it this far in the post. I figure I need to share these thoughts now while I have reliable European wifi! Expect a bit more on Barcelona when I get my shhh together at last.
Love,
Alexis
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