Thanksgiving in Chiang Mai

The other day I was reminded of a message spray painted on a concrete pillar that used to support an old bridge over the Maumee River in Ohio. It said, "You can take the boy out of the country, but you can't take the country out of the boy." In this case, 'country' referred to sticks-ville rather than a nation (there are lots o hicks in that part of Ohio). Nontheless, it seems an appropriate sentiment in our cases this time of year -- Thanksgiving -- an 'All American' holiday. Perhaps that's why I thought of this old pillar and the spray painted message: it is my duty, as an American, to spend the last Thursday of November eating turkey and mashed potatoes and cranberry sauce until the buttons on my pants pop off. That's not to say I have forgotten the provenance of this holiday: it's a day to celebrate and give thanks for a good harvest. That's probably irrelevant to many Americans these days, those not in the business of agriculture at least, but still... it's a day to give thanks. And eat.

Benjamin and I spent the better part of an afternoon seeking out a bountiful Thanksgiving buffet -- we toured the city of Chiang Mai, visiting all the 'fancy' hotels and selected one of them for our Thanksgiving feast, which (incidentally) occured one day ahead of everyone in America -- that was yesterday. Technically speaking, we should -- again -- celebrate today although in order to 'celebrate' along with everyone else back home, we'd have had to dine on turkey for breakfast and I don't think the flavor goes well with morning coffee.

I would like to say our Thanksgiving dinner was out of this world. It was stupendous. It was delicious. But it wasn't -- Americans definitely know what they're doing when it comes to a Thanksgiving dinner and no-one in Asia can compete. Our turkey wasn't dry (the usual problem)... it actually seemed to be slightly raw. The stuffing and mashed potatoes -- they weren't quite right. That's understandable, though... most Western food in non-Western countries is that way: a good effort, but always slightly off. And, the worst part of it all: there was no pumpkin pie.

The staff of the restaurant did make an effort to create an 'American vibe' for the occasion, though. 'American' being cowboy hats and boots, tight jeans, and gingham shirts. Even though they had informational signage about the history of Thanksgiving posted outside the entrance of the restaurant that pictured European pilgrims in funny hats and uncomfortable, puritan clothing, no-one thought to dress that way. No-one chose to dress like an American Indian, either, and they also had pictures of them on the signage. It was the Indians who taught the European immigrants how to plant crops in their new environment and according to lore, Thanksgiving was a banquet to thank the Indians for their part in keeping the pilgrims from starving. Ah, if only they knew their fate... one year it's all, 'come and eat with us,' and the next it's, 'here... snuggle up with this smallpox-infested blanket'.

Benjamin and I traded 'best and worst' Thanksgiving stories over dinner. Benjamin wistfully recounted a beautiful 'Italian' Thanksgiving and upon further thought decided it was not Thanksgiving after all. Just a big dinner party. His worst Thanksgiving was, again, another dinner on an ordinary day -- not Thanksgiving. Finally, he settled on a story that was neither 'best' nor 'worst' but 'funny' instead -- funny for him, but not for the sweet old lady from the old-folks home who pissed her pants at dinner.

I had difficulty thinking of my 'best Thanksgiving' as well and decided that... well, it's because nothing really happens on Thanksgiving -- it's not like Christmas with all its excitement of parties, heavy drinking, and shiny new toys. Thanksgiving is rather dull in comparison... unless you're a Flanagan, that is, and Thanksgiving is an accident-prone time of year with upside down cars in ditches (my brother wrecked the car 1/2 hour before dinner one year) and burnt down houses (a faulty outlet in the basement and poof! almost everything lost).

This year certainly won't constitute anything of significance in our memory either: we both agreed that it didn't feel like a Thanksgiving and decided it was not the Old West costumes, the empty restaurant, or the lackluster fare but the lack of friends and family to celebrate with. That's really what Thanksgiving is about : getting together with your favorite people and making a day of it. The food is really secondary come to think of it... but a pumkin pie is always nice.