Its 12pm and fifteen people from three generations are linked in an energetic conga line as it snakes its way around, up and down, the house. Spontaneous laughter and cheers erupt into the air above them, and the joy is catching. Not your typical Thanksgiving, but hey, who wants to be typical!
Thanksgiving is probably the most important American holiday and thus one that us exchange students over here in the U.S. have been anticipating for some time now. With nothing to compare it to, we expected a kind of early Christmas, with the emphasis on the turkey rather than the presents! Faced with a plethora of invitations, we were forced to politely sift through and try to choose the best option. I ended up going for the one that guaranteed it would be a party, and boy were they right!
It started off innocently enough, with family photos and catching up chit-chat. I was quickly enveloped into their delightfully quirky net and spoiled for choice with conversation. There was a minor hiccup when someone inadvertently put potato peels down the sink garbage disposal (I never got those crazy contraptions anyway) and we were forced to relocate the washing-up into the bathroom sink. I thought this was hilarious, one of those spontaneous moments where you can’t help but laugh at the situation… though I don’t think our poor host found it quite as amusing! Nevertheless we dealt with it and the turkey tasted all the better for the waiting! It was, by the way, the largest bird I have ever seen. Who knew they could even get that big?!
The food was barely settling in our sated stomachs when it happened. All of the sudden, out of nowhere, the great dancing queen rose within us. Now I am well acquainted with her, and have been known to shake my groove thang at the slightest hint of a tune. Yet rarely have I been in a situation where everyone was similarly inclined, especially without the help of a heavy dose of some liquid inhibition-remover. Yet here they were, and there I was, ready to join in! I’m not sure they knew then what they were in for, but they were soon to find out. Before long the inevitable dance-off ensued. I was issued with a challenge:
“You think you can come here from Australia and dance better than me, don’t you?”
With a straight face I looked into her eyes and replied:
“No. I know I can come here from Australia and dance better than you.”
Game on.
But being a family holiday we were dance partners before long, side by side, for the YMCA (always a winner). The music choices actually varied widely to fit the diverse ages and backgrounds of the guests, from the merengue to reggae and a moving interpretive-ballet-pantomime, along with all the classics.
But it didn’t stop there. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted it… the limbo stick. I raced over to warn them. “You don’t want to be doing that”. I received only perplexed looks in return, and a flippant “its ok, we do it every year”. But I’m not here every year.
Ok ok, so right now you’re thinking wow, this girl thinks she’s all that. But you don’t understand, it was like they catered their celebrations to me! Limbo is my thing. I am dual champion, first of my beloved Manning Bar at Sydney Uni, and now over here at the BU pub. Needless to say I was in my element, and succeeded to shouts and applause. I had well and truly earned their seal of approval!
Not soon after it appeared to be time to call it a night. But not before a touching tribute, they played ‘Waltzing Matilda’ for me and whipped out the Australian flag. I felt the patriotism well up inside of me, both for my home and my adopted one, which was honoured with the last song ‘American Pie’. I couldn’t imagine an Australian family doing the same thing for an American guest, but I guess patriotism is expressed rather differently in Oz, through sport and well, sport.
At the beginning of the day an Australian relative of my host’s had quipped over the phone that Thanksgiving was the day that other country’s citizens are thankful that they are not American. I’m not going to pretend I didn’t have a chuckle at the time. But at that final moment in the kitchen, our arms linked in a circle of love, I thought that he just doesn’t know what he’s missing!