Life in Ink and Footsteps

Thanksgiving, the most American holiday in my imagination. The peak of autumn is the time to give love and gratitude. Calm and retrospective moments, when people appreciate their loved ones and relax together at the family meal. Everything is in the warm shades of orange and brown; the smell of delicious food surrounds you at every step, while leaves crunch under your shoes. Idyllic moments. At least that’s what I imagined.

Wrong! It’s hectic, fast-paced, and full of tension. How many people will come to our house? Who cooks what? Where do we get the biggest turkey? What time do we sit down, and where do we all fit? Who will keep the kids away from all the sugar? And most importantly, how many cars will we take to the mall for Black Friday shopping? Okay, I might be slightly exaggerating. But it is not as peaceful as the movies portray. At least not at the table that I was a part of.

My family decided to fly to Florida to visit relatives there, which meant I had a few days off for myself and no plans for Thanksgiving. Thankfully – HA, you see what I did there – the family of C., my French friend, was very welcoming and kind and invited me to spend the day with them. I am not going to lie, I was a little hesitant. I didn’t have the best opinions about the children and wasn’t really all that excited to be around them the whole day. But I also wanted to see this American holiday from the inside. To actually be a part of it. So I agreed. It was, after all, a wonderful gesture from them. C. and I went to some kind of a preserve in the morning, just enjoying the time off. I don’t remember how it all went, honestly, but I am surprised that her family didn’t want her help around the house. I always cooked with my mum for all the Jewish holidays and helped her out with preparation. But we also had a wonderful relationship. That woman became my closest confidante during my year living with them. I will talk about all of that later, especially around Hanukkah time. When we returned later to join the family, it was pure chaos. People were everywhere. Women were mostly concentrated around the table and in the kitchen discussing last-minute preparations and organizing everything; Tupperware full of side dishes and desserts was overflowing onto the counters, while children were running in and out of the house, screaming like banshees. Men, holding their beers and glasses of whiskey, awkwardly stood around the living room, pretending to or truly ignoring the utter madness around them, and talked about some game. Probably football. The American one, of course. Why Americans call THAT football when you do not use your feet to play with the ball is confusing to me. Wouldn’t handball make more sense? No? Oh, okay. And in the middle of all of this were the poor little foreign au pairs, kind of hiding in plain view from everyone.

But here is an interesting thing about au pairs that I feel is not mentioned enough. Quite often we were looked at as if we were exotic animals from different zoos. All the friends and neighbors of our families were interested in where we came from, who we were, and how much America was loved by our countries. It was a status symbol for the families that could afford to have an au pair. Not just any old nanny from the local area. No, this was a rare European specimen, from countries that had yet to reach the greatness of the United States of America. It was a peculiar feeling; everyone wanted to see us and talk to us. Listen to our accents and ask about our countries, but at the same time, they didn’t want to talk to us, they didn’t care about who we were, and they looked at us with slight condescension and pity. “Look at these girls, experiencing true freedom for the very first time in the best country in the world. No wonder they are here; their poor third-world countries—who knows where—must be a bother to live in. God bless America. You are all welcome, girls, you are welcome”. In all seriousness, I was asked if we have malls and smartphones in Czechia, and I am not kidding you. An actual adult human being, middle-aged may I add, not only had no idea that there is a place like the Czech Republic, which I admit is valid; it’s a tiny country. But even after I informed him that we are part of the European Union, he still didn’t see why it was a dumbass question. This is, of course, not the case for every single person. There are a lot of absolutely phenomenal people who are in touch with the world outside of the US and are truly interested in other cultures. Unfortunately, the majority of the common people we usually came into contact with looked at us the way I described earlier. And the dinner wasn’t any different. I was slightly overwhelmed and uncomfortable, alone for the moment, for some reason C. was gone, probably helping around a bit, but thankfully I was saved by a brother of the mum of the family. He was a smart man who traveled a lot as well, and we had a nice conversation. He hid me from all the people around until it was finally time to eat. The food was splendid, kinda like a hobbit feast. The turkey, of course, but also mashed potatoes, baked potatoes with some herbs and butter, different kinds of vegetables, salads, cranberry sauce, and baked green beans. Sweet potatoe casserole—seriously, what is it with Americans and marshmallows? As well as several different kinds of pies are things that stuck to my memory. The table was full of food, and everyone was stuffing themselves. Oh look, stuffing was there as well.

We didn’t stay long afterward. We were both kind of uncomfortable and also, it was almost time for the second part of this traditional holiday. Shopping. Black Friday was here, baby. And let me tell you, that shit was crazy. The number of people everywhere, rushing, pushing, falling over each other’s heads, and pointing to different stores was just crazy. I am a little sad that I haven’t seen anything too extreme, the way they show it on TV, like people fighting over stuff and going batshit crazy. But even without that, it was maddening to experience. I spent a shit ton of money, mostly in Bed, Bath & Beyond and some clothing stores, whose names I no longer remember. At this point, I was tired, full, and just overwhelmed, and all I wanted was to go home and shower that whole day off. So that’s exactly what I did. And with that, Thanksgiving was over.

Are you kind of disappointed? With this weird empty and unfulfilled feeling in the pit of your stomach? I know, me too. But hey, that is real life and not the polished version that social media shows us nowadays. Not every adventure turns out to be an adventure, and expectations are not met every time. Do you want to add to the disappointment? I do not have a single picture. Not one. So enjoy the pumpkins from Chelsea Market.

And today’s song? One of my favorites still. I was introduced to this band later on during my stay in the USA thanks to S.
On Hold – The XX