Brooke in Belgium: Thanksgiving...Belgian Style.

My first “real” holiday in Belgium was Thanksgiving. To be honest, I have never really cared too much about. It always just seemed so hectic and stressful with all the traveling, cooking, and herds of family members packed together around an always to small table. For us Americans though, this chaos has always been obligatory every last Thursday in November since we can remember.

The first obstacle I faced was trying to explain this festivity to the Belgians. A lot of people were curious about this “amazing holiday of Thanksgiving” I spoke of, especially my host family. I tried my best to explain correctly to everyone what Thanksgiving was, but they always seemed so dumbfounded after my explanation. I would always start with, “Thanksgiving is a time to give thanks!” Which was always followed up by the question, “Thanks for what?” I then had to travel back a few hundred years to the first Thanksgiving. “We, Americans, traveled here to the “Promise Land” to get away from you, Europeans. We then had no idea what in God’s name we were doing. We had a few of the locals, Indians (no, not the ones from India), help us out. Then came harvest time. The Pilgrims were so pleased with the crops and all they had persevered through. They then had a big feast with the Indians to give back thanks and celebrate their good fortune!” I then continued with the explanation of the modern day Thanksgiving. “So, the last Thursday every November, we have family all get together, cook a giant feast, and eat like starving animals until we are sufficiently bloated, and then we all sleep!” This was always the part where I started losing people. They would always reply with something to the effect of, “How does that give thanks, give thanks to Indians, or really give thanks to anybody? Didn’t the Americans kill all the Indians anyway?”Being the very neutral person I am, I always responded to that remark and ended the conversation there with, “HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!!”

The day of Thanksgiving ended up being a little more of a struggle than I originally thought. I woke up that morning to my host family saying “Happy Fanksgiving!” (The “th” sound doesn’t work well with the French accent.) I arrived at school and every now and again people would stop and ask me if today some kind of holiday in the U.S. They knew it was because they announced several times on the radio that day. (This is the part where I would then have to explain what Thanksgiving is.) About mid-day, when I realized my mom would be up beginning the cooking preparations, I started to feel a little down. Then a few hours later I came home, went to my room, and Skyped my mom. I ranted on for hours about how depressed I was to miss this sacred American event. When I finished being obnoxious, she followed up by saying, “I would switch you places with you any day. I’ve been here slaving away in this kitchen since 6 a.m. to feed the in-laws.” (She actually calls them the “outlaws”, but that’s beside the point.)”I would rather be in Europe any Thanksgiving eating fresh bread, chocolate, and drinking beer,” she continued to say. And so yes, it was true for me too. This opportunity beats any Thanksgiving feast. Looking back now, I think I just needed an excuse to feel sorry for myself.

I then perked up and came down to the kitchen where my host family greeted me with another “Happy Fanksgiving!” They then proceeded to give me presents, yes, presents for Thanksgiving. I am not sure if they did this because they felt sorry for me, or thought this is what we did in the U.S. on Thanksgiving. Either way, I wasn't going to complain! I then had to go to my night French course. Before leaving the house my host mother, Christine, asked me what I would like for dinner that night to celebrate. She gave me a list of options; pizza, Chinese, hamburgers, and other things she thought a stereotypical American would enjoy. Jokingly while walking out the door I said I would LOVE some Chinese take-out.

Exhausted, I finished my 3 hour French lesson, and was picked up by my host dad like normal. We then continued on our way home, but he took a little different way than usual. He then parked a car in front of a Chinese restaurant. I really had no idea what he was doing. He got out of the car, and I followed because I was curious. He then went into the restaurant and picked up two big bags of Chinese take-out boxes. I was flabbergasted! My host family very rarely ate out, but cheap Chinese take-out? This was a huge sacrifice they were willing to make for me! We then went home and I stuffed my face with the best Thanksgiving meal I had ever had, while my host parents smiled, and picked around their Chinese (dog) food. They then followed it up by presenting to me four little cakes. Belgian cake doesn't compare to any cake I have ever had in the States. Mmmmm.

This was the best Thanksgiving I had truly ever had. I never imagined I would have such a great Thanksgiving being away from my family. Really though, I was with family; my Belgian family. I will never forget this Chinese take-out, cake, and presents Thanksgiving.