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Published: December 6th 2010
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I hate having people over to my house. This may seem like a negative way to start a bog, especially one about Thanksgiving, but it is imperative that you understand this, for it will shine a light on my forthcoming madness that is soon to be described. As a kid, I found it much more exciting to go to other people’s houses, play with their toys, be doted on by their parents, and not have to worry about MY parents nagging me. As I got older and entered high school, I would have friends over and be worried the whole time if they were having enough fun, cringe when they looked at baby pictures of me, and sigh when my mom chided me for using curse words and my brother flirted with my friends. In college, I hosted only one birthday party at my house (the rest were elsewhere or at a friend’s) and was freaking out the whole time about the music (would someone steal my bipod? Which songs said birthday party the best?), booze (jungle juice that stained our countertops), orchestrating beer pong, and worrying that my crazy drunk friends dressed as characters from Peter Pan would attack the
neighbors. So it must have been temporary insanity, perhaps a fever dream, that convinced me to host Thanksgiving at my apartment in Korea.
My apartment. Compared to others in Korea, my place is spacious and decked out. I have an oven and a much coveted bathtub. My bedroom and kitchen are in separate rooms and I have a closet. I am a lucky girl. But it is still an apartment and by Thanksgiving standards, it is small. The Smith Family way is to have a long table that takes up the whole kitchen with family members crammed around it and food covering it. The living room would turn into Kitchen Part Two and host all the other family members who couldn’t fit or didn’t want to be at the main crazy table. Thanksgiving decorations of fabric leaves, turkeys, orange lights, candles, harvest thingamajigs made of wood and buttons that my mom found somewhere, and a kitchen full of cooks making about ten things at one time. Our whole house is literally taken over and we have a decent sized home. I had no idea how I was going to fit around 20 foreigners, food, and all that attitude in
one apartment. I started to twitch a bit…
In the week leading up to Turkey Day I would wake up in the middle of the night and find myself trying to configure chairs and making mental checklists of guests and food. I was getting close to going mental. Sleep was elusive. I spent my time on Face book in confusing threads about what to get from Costco, how people would arrive and what they should bring. It was a bit of a mess trying to get friends from all over the province to my place with various Thanksgiving dishes. Most of which needed to be cooked in my kitchen. Three burners. One oven. 4 chairs. One table. I am an idiot.
My co-teacher/Korean mother/saving grace let me take ten stools and a small table from school. She even let my cheap ass take a industrial sized trash bag for the impending trash explosion. As students carried the chairs to her car, she said sweetly, “We all work hard for Hannah’s party.” I now had chairs, plates, cups, and the ingredients for fruit salad and green beans. Now all I needed was decorations. It’s important to be resourceful which
is exactly why I used my students to make decorations. Some call it child labor, I call it a stroke of genius.
“Ok class listens up!! I’m having a Thanksgivng party with my friends. Chingu’s!?? Some of them are BOYS (insert the sound of giggles and excitement) so I need you to help me make decorations! I will give you a sticker...”
It worked like a charm and I had my artistic 3rd graders draw turkey hands and then color them. After they were done I gave them a sticker and had them write one of my friends names on it. They seemed confused and perhaps hurt when I said “No, no don’t write YOUR name on it, write MY friend’s name. I don’t care if you made it!! This is FOR ME!” They are the luckiest students around.
That night Mary, a girl from my hometown who is also teaching in Korea, arrived at my place to help me put up leaves and turkey decorations. We drank some wine, she tried to chill me out, and we reminisced about our Placerville days. We went to bed with wine soaking our brains and with me trying to
put worry aside for the night. The next day I began to freak again. Leaves were falling off the wall and everytime they did I would scream like a banshee and Mary would look scared. I got various phone calls from friends at Costco who were buying rotisserie chickens (after reading this bog, do you really think I would attempt a turkey?) and getting sacks of potatoes. How many chickens should we get?? We don’t know where Steve is. Someone bought a pizza! What should we buy? My head started to hurt. But then the doorbell rang and it seemed my guests had arrived, I was instantly excited and opened the door and ten friends piled in with boxes of food and drink. It was time to cram my apartment full of thanks and much more.
The guests were as follows. We had Peru with pizza, Duane with hot chocolate, Tijuana and Senile with pasta and garlic bread, Nick with carrots, Jazz with salad, Steve, Stephen, and Wenonah in charge of peeling and mashing potatoes and the chickens, Margo with sweet potatoes, broccoli, and tomatoes, Chris with cranberry and walnut bread, Frank with donuts, Mark with apricots and snacks,
and I’ll attribute the pumpkin pie, cheesecake, and apple pie to Ruben, Jamal, and Phuong. South Afrca, England, Canada, Korea, and the USA were all represented. It certainly wasn’t traditional, but damn was it good. We filled a table in my dressing room with food and ended up stacking all the deserts in the corner. My kitchen was bustling and filled quickly with the smell of indulgence and crabs. People sat around chatting, laughing, and listening to random music on youtube. As Jamal finished up the asparagus, I announced at 4:30pm that it was time to eat. People had arrived at 2:00pm. I’d call that a record.
Before the eating could begin, Mary called everyone into a circle and I introduced the idea of going in a circle and saying what we were thankful for. Piro had the even better idea of passing a bottle of champagne along as well. I took a swig, choked on it gracefully, and then thanked everyone for coming. We passed the bottle and our germs along the group, making jokes, and giving thanks for our good friends, families, and amazing food. This was my favorite part of the evening because it made me
feel like I was home and in the holiday spirit. I really am thankful to have such beautiful and caring people for friends in this foreign place. Without them, my time here would not be as special or as wildly happy. As the night went on and people started moving sluggishly and passing out on my bed, we attempted some party games and a drunken adventure on a playground, but it was asking too much to do anything of much signifigance after all that food. At 10pm my guests sauntered out and I sat with Mary eating a donut thinking maybe it’s not so bad having people over to my house and feeling greatly satisfied with my Korean Thanksgiving.
That is until I saw the dishes…
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Megan Elrod
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Thanksgiving Abroad Always a Good Idea!
I'm glad it all came together! I remember in Italy we had a potluck Thanksgiving in a packed apartment ( with teachers from our school too!) and it still stands out in my mind as one of the best Thanksgivings ever. We had a schmorgasboard of foods, but one teacher actually managed to find a turkey for us; never has it tasted so good. Luckily I wasn't hosting! We were merry and full of wine by the end of the night, walking home with full stomachs and rosy cheeks from laughter. It was a great reminder of home. I'm happy you decided to do it even if parties stress you out.