Friday, November 26, 2004



I've been blogging like a day now and I've already devolved into putting up snapshots of the uninteresting things I do. Oh well, I guess this whole thing is more for my own edification than for my hypothetical reader.

Last night was, of course, Thanksgiving, and I passed it quite happily with a motley assortment of Americans and Brazilians at an expat apartment here. I made an apple pie, the most American thing I could think of, in some sort of elliptical earthenware casserole dish, without the aid of measuring cups or a rolling pin. And it was totally edible; good, even. The rest of the food was excellent. I stuffed myself big-time.

Thanksgiving is maybe my favorite holiday because it is so purely focused on things I care about deeply: food and friends. There's no religious hogwash or anything else to get in the way. And it's also inextricably linked in my mind to my family, and to America. With the possible exception of the Red Sox winning the World Series, it is maybe the time I want most to go home. But actually I did well. I was pretty happy here, pretty content. The company of random folks you only recently met, especially if they're your countrypeople and it's a national holiday, can sometimes be very comforting.

I know what you mean. I spent Christmas and New Year in Sydney a few year ago, and despite the fact that it was boiling hot and I was with a load of complete strangers, I had a really great time. BBQ on Bondi beach on Christmas day! Not exactly traditional for a Brit, but fun nonetheless.
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