I guess that at some point I must have liked Christmas, but I can’t really recall when that was. Don’t get me wrong—there were things I liked. For example, polvorones and turrón, but by the 23rd, one has already eaten oneself silly with all of that. I also liked the presents and Roscón de Reyes, but that all happened around the 6th of January, once the whole Christmas boredom was past. Although now I always have to be in the department on the 6th, I still like those things. In fact, I seem to endure Christmas now more than before. I guess it has to do with the being, who is different from me, visibly enjoying it all. Los locos, aka my nephews, also seem to like the whole Christmas jamboree. I didn’t. As I mentioned here, I really appreciated that Chinese restaurants in the US offered a safe haven during that force 5 boredom hurricane that is Christmas.

Now, when I arrived in the US, I discovered to my horror that these people had decided to have a second Christmas: Thanksgiving. In fact, worse than Christmas. No presents for Thanksgiving. And people cooking for Christmas often try to be creative, at least. I guess that some people also try to be creative for Thanksgiving, or this is what it seems like when viewed through the eyes of a Spaniard fresh off the boat—turducken, I’m talking about you. But what people really want for Thanksgiving is to have the same as every year since the world was made: turkey with stuffing, cranberry sauce, gravy, sweet potatoes, and pumpkin pie, with pecan pie if there’s an anarchist streak in you. As I remember, the discussions focused on whether the cranberry sauce was homemade, whether the pumpkin for the pie was canned or not, and whether one preferred white or dark meat—the latter were the anarchists. And then the turkey: an ostrich-sized thing that you knew you were to continue eating until Hell froze. Impossible to get a normal-sized animal—the average seems to be 8 kg. Those turkeys are the reason American stoves are the size of small European apartments. And then, all the discussion of dark meat versus white meat notwithstanding, nobody seems to like turkey that much. I mean, how often have you seen somebody leave the leftovers of a burger on the plate? That is liking something, not the fate those ostriches suffer. What everybody likes is the sauce, the gravy, and the stuffing. The stuffing has such a humble name, but actually, it is the turkey that is the stuffing of the stuffing. And then the pumpkin pie… For Americans, that might sound like home and such, but I never got the point. I’m an anarchist and liked the pecan pie. And once the dinner is over, what does one do? Boredom and despair.

Okay, I might be overblowing it, talking without knowing, because at the end of the day, I only celebrated Thanksgiving twice, I believe. After that, I always lobbied to go elsewhere. Luckily, the Canadians celebrate their version a few weeks earlier. Crossing the border, leaving the turkey holocaust behind, felt like liberation. Tim Hortons felt like freedom. Although sometimes one could be met by the most criminal weather imaginable. I think it was escaping Thanksgiving when we went to Montreal at some point. I’m sure I was dressed in layers and layers, looking like a Michelin man with my incredibly huge coat, but I remember Montreal as the place where Hell probably would have frozen if it weren’t busy being Thanksgiving south of the border. Anyways, if you are a desperate American brought here by boredom, Happy Thanksgiving! And my condolences.

P.S.: Yes, making the cranberry sauce is gratifying, with that pop pop when they pop.