[caption id="attachment_1503" align="alignleft" width="500" caption="Me and My 2009 Thanksgiving"]<a href="http://www.karolinkabulgaria.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/11/img_1230.jpg"><img class="size-full wp-image-1503" title="Me at Thanksgiving" src="http://www.karolinkabulgaria.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/11/img_1230.jpg" alt="" width="500" height="333" /></a>[/caption]

It appears that all I've done for the last 10 days is to write about Thanksgiving.  I promise this is the last Thanksgiving post for the year.  Well, I think so any way.  The food was great and my friends were wonderful.  I couldn't think of a better way to celebrate the day.  For full disclosure I did disappoint a few friends when I decided to buy pre-cooked chickens from the deli at Billa rather than cook a turkey myself.

For me at least, the turkey (or in this case the chicken) is really one of the least interesting parts of the meal.  I'd rather focus on the stuffing, mashed potatoes, carrot casserole, green beans and pumpkin pie with homemade whipped cream. But in hindsight, maybe I let down my non-American guests by not serving turkey.  I did look to see if there were any turkeys being sold at Billa--there weren't or who knows maybe I'd have bought one.<!--more-->

[caption id="attachment_1506" align="alignleft" width="500" caption="Stuffing, green beans, carrots and gasp, chicken"]<a href="http://www.karolinkabulgaria.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/11/t-day-dinner.jpg"><img class="size-full wp-image-1506" title="T Day Dinner" src="http://www.karolinkabulgaria.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/11/t-day-dinner.jpg" alt="" width="500" height="542" /></a>[/caption]

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Anyhow, when I told one of my friends this, she laughed.  Then she told me that to get a good turkey I'd have to go out into the villages and buy one there.  She wryly added to this that I'd probably have to catch my turkey first and then they'd kill it for me.  I have a hunch chasing turkeys isn't really my thing but as soon as she said it, I couldn't get the idea out of my head.  It seems like that would make for a really exciting story.  The good news is that I think I convinced my friend that next year we'd both go to village to get a turkey--that way I am trying to catch it by myself.  Oh the plans one makes drinking homemade Bulgarian wine!

Well, we had a great time. I had to explain stuffing.  It's toasted bread that is mixed with onion, raisins, sweet red pepper and in this case apples and then stuffed in the turkey which because I don't have one can't be stuffed in a turkey so it's in a pan.  There seemed to be some trepidation but by the end of the night there wasn't more than a cup of stuffing left (and I ate that and mashed potatoes for breakfast). We talked a little bit about the tradition of Thanksgiving and my students who always ask me this question: where are you from? Me: Um, America. They respond: no, where are you from? Me: Walla Walla, Washington. It's the town so nice they named it twice.  Them: okay, but where was your family from? Me: well, Germany.  More or less. I usually leave it at this.

But there's a piece of me that feels like I need to explain that I am the fifth generation of my family to live <em>in</em> Walla Walla--not just in the States. My family has probably lived in the States for more than eight generations. I feel American. I don't feel German-American--in my case, I don't even know what it would mean for me to say that I am German-American.  My parents don't speak German nor did my grandparents.  I grew up eating tacos, pizza, lasagna, baked chicken, mac and cheese (sometimes my mom would even cut up hot dogs and stir these in as well), beef stroganoff, hamburgers, tuna casserole, meatloaf and once in a while my mom would make a roast.  I am an American. I am from America.

[caption id="attachment_1507" align="alignleft" width="500" caption="Me and my friend E. "]<a href="http://www.karolinkabulgaria.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/11/img_1227.jpg"><img class="size-full wp-image-1507" title="Me and my friend E. " src="http://www.karolinkabulgaria.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/11/img_1227.jpg" alt="" width="500" height="333" /></a>[/caption]

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So we discussed identity and nationality for a little bit as well.  It was a lively conversation with a number of Bulgarians, a couple of Spanish guys, a Japanese girl and me. One of my friends mentioned that where you're from matters more in Europe.  I am not sure if I buy that 100% but he made a good case for this argument.  And this morning I found myself still thinking about this conversation.  I was struck by the thought that when I was living in Washington DC and you'd meet someone new one of the two first questions someone would ask you is where did you go to school? and what do you do?  The question: where are you from? was generally third.  Somehow not as important as your education and your job.  Maybe he's right--maybe where you're from is a more important question in Europe.  Maybe it's more significant.

And here ends my extended Thanksgiving Day(s) blogging. Now I am going to eat a piece of pumpkin pie.