There are lots of things that, when moving to another country, you give up because they are not a part of your new culture. Here, Thanksgiving dinner is not one of them. We had a group that came down from the states specifically to cook Thanksgiving dinner for us and it was superb! It was just missing mom’s homemade zupfe. All of the foreign missionaries ate it up, but the kids were slightly less impressed until it came time to for the pie. My favorite anecdote from the evening, besides our little five-year-old boy falling asleep on my lap before the food was even served, was the 11-year old sitting next to me. As I passed him the food he only took a few dishes with interest. When he say the gravy he got a little more excited. He leaned towards me and asked, “Pica?” (is it spicy). “No,” I replied.
His face immediately dropped. Apparently, unlike all of us Americans who ask the same question of others when we are concerned that the salsa will be too hot, this little boy was greatly disappointed to discover that not only were there no tortillas with which to eat his turkey, there also was nothing to spice it up a bit. Ah, the differences in taste-buds between two countries!
Two of the boys enjoying the pie with whipped topping.
Our wall of thanksgiving…people added to it throughout the evening.
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