Culo inquieto

Ya han pasado dos años desde que llegamos a California tras un paréntesis de otro año viviendo y trabajando en Madrid. El blog sigue su curso, esta vez más centrado en este "life'changing event" que nos está pasando. Y como siempre (o casi)el blog sigue llegando...¡¡¡EN ESPAÑOL!!! Sumamos y seguimos, y añadimos un nuevo miembro a nuestra familia: Sarita Do-Fernández.

lunes, 28 de noviembre de 2005

Thanksgiving in Madrid

It was Thursday, and it was freezing. Nothing was inviting about this Thanksgiving: almost the end of the week, no vacation, and threfore, we were tired. The freezing wind that made us cover all fromhead to toe. And the certainty there was no turkey to be found anywhere near. Nevertheless, we went out to "celebrate" in our own special way. Almost anything makes a good excuse for us to go out and eat!
And so, we ended up in the "American Dreams" restaurant, where we had everything except for American food - whatever that is, if that concept aside from turkey, hamburguers and chicken pot pie exists.
We had grilled chicken and meat fajitas, Tex-Mex appetizers, Coronita and brownie (ok, I'll give you the brownie as American food). Yup, that was our Thanksgiving dinner.
What was even more surprising than finding ourselves there dining, was to find two other couples of Americans. And what do you know... they were from Santa Clara! One of the guys turned around and asked me if WE were American, to which I said "I am not, but HE (vinh) is".
Not too much of a conversation started there, just a plain Thanksgiving greeting left at that.

I am still surprised in a way that whenever Vinh runs into Americans, he does not feel the same eagerness to talk to them as I do when I run into Spaniards abroad. But it surprises me just in a way, as I said, because I can also see why he does not feel compelled to talk and bond. Americans are so different from him... Vinh is American just by passport, by upbringing and some customs (like watching NBA games and liking Twinkies). But that is pretty much it.
As we over-heard them talking, there was something about them that made them so... white... and so... American.I don't know, it is unfair to label, I know. I have met some (a few) nice A-me-ri-cans, but for the most part, I feel I have very little in common with them.

So that was our Thanksgiving, with no turkey, but with incidental American company at an American restaurant in the heart of a sierra town in the middle of Madrid, Europe. Could it have been any stranger of a Thanksgiving?


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