Early last week, British
Will, Thomas (fellow intern, also British) and I had very little work to do, so they were at my desk and we were just browsing the internet (boss people were away at a meeting). I came to an article about the turkey
pardoning tradition in America (the names of the turkeys this year were Liberty
and Peace…what creative school children picked those out? They really dropped the ball. Naming turkeys could be a lot of
fun. Mr. Big Stuff? Giblets is kind of cute. Erin Marie isn’t bad either.) Thomas said, “So Claire, what is Thanksgiving all about?” He wasn’t even trying to be funny—he
was actually asking in earnest. As
I explained the story of the Pilgrims and Squanto and the first Thanksgiving
feast, I half expected kindergarten children to emerge at any time, wearing
construction paper feathers and those pillow case tunics with beads on the
ends. After the story, Thomas
asked, “So, the Pilgrims...is that, like, Thomas Jefferson and all them?”
………….Really, Thomas? British people
must have just blocked that entire period of history from their memory. I explained to Thomas that his people
persecuted the Pilgrims, so they went to America to set up a shining city upon
a hill and America has been better than Britain ever since.
Thanksgiving Day turned
out pretty well. We had office
ice-skating at the Somerset House after work. It was very pretty and lots of fun. The architects-on-skates concept is
pretty hilarious.
Earlier that day at
work, Nicolas (guy from Cyprus who sits across from me. He is a great big teddy bear) sent me
an email to invite me to a Thanksgiving dinner that these American people were
putting on. It sounded like a nice
meet-and-greet of Americans in London and it was close to where I live, so I
said I’d go. It turned out to be a
group of about seven American friends celebrating Thanksgiving together and
they were pretty surprised to see us there. (It turns out that Nicolas peripherally knew only one of the
girls—luckily she was the host).
When we walked in the door, they all just stared. All the girls were wearing cute little
holiday dresses (they had clearly been planning this for a while) and there I
was in my jeans, pilly brown sweater, and smelly ice skating socks. Nicolas whispered to me, “It’s been a while since I’ve crashed
a party like this.” I was like,
“I’ve never done this before.” But
after the initial awkwardness, it was fine. They were a pretty yuppie group. At one point in the dinner,
they were all talking about retirement funds and pension plans and investing their
money, and I thought to myself, “Who are these people?” And
then I remembered that I had no idea who they were, because I was at a
Thanksgiving dinner I wasn’t invited to, hosted by people I’d never met. But the food was great, the wine was
wine, and there was pie for dessert, so I enjoyed it.
When I got home, I
skyped in to Massachusetts family Thanksgiving. They hooked the computer up to the TV so I was on the big
screen. It was definitely one of
the best skype dates I’ve ever had.
I took them all on the tour of my apartment, and Ashley said it sounded
like a ton of people on a roller coaster.
Before we ended the call, all the cousins gathered around the TV for a
picture. I haven’t seen it yet,
but apparently it looks like I’m actually there with the group—I just have a
gigantic head and shoulders.
UK Thanksgiving turned
out better than I expected it to be, but it still can’t compare to Thanksgiving
at home. I’ll be back next year!
