Birthdays and Thanksgiving

Ok, let's be honest. Getting lost in places you've never heard of is WAAAAAAYYYY easier to make funny than a writing papers in rainy Manchester. There are only so many ways to make fun of the people trapsing through my house every day. So once again we're going to have to combine two days into one and pretend it all happened together.

In an incredible quirk of fate, Augustin and I share the same birthday, so we threw a little gig over here at The Hacienda. People are slammed right now with school work, so we expected a nice, small affair. And it was your typical night at our flat, where a variety of countries showed up with wine bottles and a few stories. But then it differentiated itself.

My roommate Guillaume has elevated himself to the level of "Nicest human I know" without even meaning to. I wish we could clone this kid , who I already liked before. We've had a number of birthday parties this year, and they are all the same, just a reason to hang out and eat cake. No one ever gives presents. But just as Gus and I blow out the candles (a task made significantly easier when there are 2 people), here come the Chinese girls with two wrapped boxes. Guillaume had gotten everyone to pitch in and give us Manchester United and Manchester City jerseys with our names and #107, which is our flat number. In the world of unexpected nice presents, this ranks near the top for me (even if they did accidentally get the old jersey from a few years ago...)

And so it was with a feeling of international satisfacion that I awoke on Thanksgiving Day, or as the Brits tend to simply call it, "November 24." Earlier this year I met up with some other Americans, Courtney and Kimberly. They're from Virginia and Alabama, and you really don't here many southern accents out here, so they tend to stand out. Anyway, I headed over to their place to celebrate proper Thanksgiving with them and about 10 English folks.

The only problem with such a strong class full of international students is that you forget you are in England. It's like moving to Manhattan and working for the United Nations - you don't actually meet any New Yorkers. So this was really one of my first true experiences in a British flat with a roomfull of British blokes speaking real British. I gotta tell ya, I couldn't understand a bloody word they said. One on one, they sound fine. But when they all start blabbering without even bothering to mix in a consonant for variety's sake, well they're damn near unintelligble.

Of course, we Americans lose all credibility when we try to answer the simplest questions like, "How did Thanksgving start?" First off, they are puzzled why we celebrate a harvest in the beginning of winter, which is a valid point I didn't have an answer for. Then you have to run throught he whole Native American debacle and try to explain the legalities of Tribal Casinos. By the time you get through trying to explain how marshmallow yams could have possibly been around in 1621, you're ready to stick the bird on someone's head.

But the Brits thoroughly enjoyed the Thanksgiving feast Kimberly and Courtney whipped up, and I must say they did a fine job. Saturday we're hosting our own belated T-Day Saturday for the exchange class, and everyone can be thankful that I have absolutely no responsibility whatsoever. It's Dan's project and our place is simply the environment. Apparently my poor cooking skills are now so legendary, that I wasn't even made aware when dish responsibilites were being doled out. I mean, even the Canadians have responsibilities for certain entrees. But me, well I just gotta unlock the door when everyone gets here.

Unfortunately, this week is more of the same - papers, papers, papers - then I get interesting again in Paris, Rome and Florence the week after.