The great thing about random experiences is that once they start to pile on top of each other,  your life becomes a rainbow of memories that can never be replicated anywhere, by anyone else.

The humble beginnings of our American holiday might start out with families trying to emulate Rockwell’s vision of Americana (not ours though- in my house someone was always sent to their room before supper).

…but somewhere along the way the definition can change unexpectedly. You can find yourself in Budapest, admiring the artistic license taken by Hungarian Thanksgiving guests who were told to trace their hands, then quickly graduated to pimping their turkeys out with iPods and John Lennon glasses. Next they write down (in Hungarian) what they are thankful for on this day devoted to breaking bread with others.

My first Thanksgiving spent out of the country was as a teenager in Grenoble. At the lycée where I was enrolled, our America-loving principle organized his idea of a Thanksgiving dinner for the international students. Not a whole lot stands out about this feast- but I do remember the lights going down and Pink Floyd’s “The Wall” playing loudly during dinner. Karaoke followed soon after with a French boy serenading us with “Unchained Melody”- or at least the words he knew off the top of his head.  Really, that was Thanksgiving in France.

I have had a more or less traditional Thanksgiving in Dublin, and an even less traditional one in Hawaii with a Japanese-American family (sushi and mochi were logical additions to the menu). This year finds me in Dakar, and ready to share a table with a whole new crop of people of strangers and friends.

Getting ready to sit down and eat! We had representatives from America, Sweden, Holland, Spain and Burkina Faso. Here we see Mike (go Navy!) thanking us for coming and also provided an explanation en français of Thanksgiving.

This might be one of the first Thanksgivings where there wasn’t a little kids table

Not everyone spoke English, so there was a mix of languages spoken around the house. While our generous (and liberally-pouring) hosts ensured a convivial atmosphere, the only challenge was the fact that many of the foods served up don’t really exist here (or I just don’t know their names in French). So I found myself getting up from my food and consulting wordreference.com on multiple occasions to figure out if there was a way to say butternut squash, cranberry, pumpkin and flaxseed (which was not served at dinner, but came up in conversation).

 In a bizarre reversal of cultural sacrilege, I was baffled to glance up from my emptying plate and note the sudden presence of cayenne pepper. Seated directly across from the Burkinabè, it was clear that this was his first Thanksgiving as I watched him liberally pour the piment onto his plate. I tried to explain that the pilgrims came from England (where food was bland)- but I am not sure he really accepted my wine-influenced justification for our non-spicy feast. In retrospect, I also doubt the veracity of my own justification… 

Really though, I try not to waste my stomach real estate with supper foods. What I really look forward to during Thanksgiving is the dessert- and there was plenty of that to go around. Flourless chocolate cake, cheesecake, pumpkin pie and apple pie…I didn’t get to everything, but you should know that all of these things taste 600 times better when you are in a far off land like Senegal.

Much like the mouton of Tabaski, this bird didn’t have much in the way of distinguishing characteristics when it was all said and done. 

Me with two of my favorite ladies in Dakar. This was Liz’s house, and she was easily the most calm and collected hostess I have seen for such an large evolution. I think it has something to do with the fact that she was a highly successful naval officer. Laurie just kicks ass in general, and is always making her Marine husband look good.

Before I knew it, eleven o’clock had come and gone, and it was well past my bedtime. Before rolling out (almost literally) I wanted to get a photo with this amazing couple, especially because I am thankful to have them in Dakar- and for putting on such a fantastic dinner for such a unique cobbling of people.

I don’t know where I will be next year, or the year after that- but I do know that we Americans   put on a great spread in the name of giving thanks for all of our blessings. Just by leaving Mike and Liz’s house and walking to find a rust-bucket taxi, I was once again reminded of how grateful I am for the family, friends (and yes) things in my life.

I hope that all of you are lucky enough to eat some fine food with loved ones during this holiday season- no matter what your religion or nationality happens to suggest. For those of you who are out on deployment and away from your families, do know that I am thankful that you are standing watch so that I don’t have to this year. Also know that sooner rather than later, it will be your turn again to sit down for a unique Thanksgiving dinner of your own.