Canadian Thanksgiving in Croatia

I have cooked in foreign countries before, but trying to create the feel of a Canadian Thanksgiving outside of North America was a new challenge.  I’m labeling this as a Travel Tip, because I definitely recommend trying something similar.  It is a fantastic way to “dig deeper” as you explore a new city.

The basic image of Thanksgiving for me is a spread of turkey, cranberry sauce, stuffing, mashed potatoes, fiddleheads*, and pumpkin pie, surrounded by family on a quiet day with no shopping, no school, no parades, no football, but with card games and board games and walks in the crisp fall air.  We would usually call our direct relatives for a quick check-in.  This was well before video conferencing, and some years were even before the speaker phone feature.  Perhaps some of you remember developing the choreography of when to pass the phone and when to recite messages, while keeping an ear for the oven timer.  I loosely recall family friends joining us once, with the ulterior motive of having two of us play a clarinet duet as entertainment – not sure what they expected but everyone seemed to be thankful when (or that?) we finished.

Thanksgiving this year was Monday, October 14, 2019, and in our second week in our new city, here was the plan: 

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Angry Sauce

It is day 4 of 33 in Split, Croatia, and I’ve so far managed to sputter Hvala for Thank You.  Croatian is definitely ‘one of those languages’ that has various words with no vowels and/or lots of consonants jammed together.  But a farmers market here is like everywhere else – pick out which zucchini, onions, tomatoes, and cucumbers you want, hand them money, and trust that they give you back some change.  (Warning: if you are there mid afternoon, the older woman will try to send you home with all of her remaining spinach!)

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His Name

“How is it that you never married?”  If I had a nickel for every time I was asked that question…well, I wouldn’t be rich, but my pockets would be heavy.  For a time, I felt the question was catching me “off guard” and therefore I had to make an effort to be ready and “on guard” for it.  I would feel defensive, like I had strayed outside the lines so of course I would occasionally be required to explain the anomaly.  I came up with a breezy, packaged response that ‘tested’ well:

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Dealing with the dishes

Marie Kondo’s book is now so popular that kondo’ing is an understood verb.  I thought I had grasped the concept during my previous move, from Washington, DC to Oakland, CA.  I reduced my volume of possessions applying a good chunk of the lessons from her book.  I agreed with the concept that I should choose to surround myself with things that bring me joy.  So I naively thought I knew how to downsize the Oakland house into storage as I transitioned to traveling the world for a year.  

Friends, there are many more levels to kondo’ing!  

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