Thanksgiving Day

Thanksgiving, a day to celebrate with family the remembrance of the gracious hearts of the Indians feeding “the stranger in their midst”. For me it is a day to spend with family. We make the 2 ½ hour trip to my parents the night before. I wake up and watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. We lay around in our sweats and scour the adds looking for that perfect deal on Black Friday. The parade turns to football playing in the background. By mid-afternoon everyone is scurrying around the kitchen worrying about the turkey. We sit down at the dining table with a feast set before us. Everyone must share one thing they are thankful for before we pray and finally pass the turkey around. Of course by this time it's cold, but that's all part of the Thanksgiving ritual – and I love it! We do the dishes, play games, lay on the couch and enjoy the coziness of the day. In the evening we bring out the pies and slowly eat a piece or two while planning the strategy for Fri.

In committing to working for the State Department we have walked away from continuing these traditions and stepped into the unknown. There is comfort in knowing we have our children with us, but what new traditions will we start that will carry us through these years?

Tradition 1: Skipping school. Because the kids go to the British school they do not have the day off. We decided that even though they seem to have a million Colombian holidays, they don't mean anything to us. But Thanksgiving does. So we all slept in and had French Toast for breakfast – together.

Tradition 2: Decorate for Christmas. I hauled out the boxes with the decorations. The girls set up the nativity scene, Chad assembled the Christmas tree and I placed the other miscellaneous garland making the apartment feel festive and like home.

Tradition 3: Skype with Family. Although we can not be there in person, we are with our family in spirit. Home was just as I remembered on Thanksgiving day. Dad lounging around, the tv blaring and kids playing. I'm so glad we can connect visually even though we are so far apart.

Tradition 4: A feast with friends. I am so thankful for the community of friends we have made in the short time we have been here. It felt so good to plan, prepare and be a part of an extended embassy family. The food was amazing as everyone pitched in to help. The conversation around football and food made it feel like home. A game of Win Loose or Draw was the perfect finish to a new way of spending Thanksgiving.

These are 4 new traditions I look forward to keeping each year while overseas.

Journal Day 3

I would love to know if anyone else in my class is finding it as difficult as I am to squeeze in a few moments at the end of the day to journal what they have observed? Being an online class I have read about these classmates, but don't actually know them, so it's a bit hard to slide into my seat before class begins and ask whomever is sitting next to me if they are keeping up with their journaling!

This morning I visited a market I had not been to before. “Las Ferias Puesto” is a local Colombian market with fruits, vegetables, flowers, herbs, grains, meat, fish and baskets. I have to say this is the best market I have been to so far and know I will be shopping there whenever possible.

Walking on a cement floor littered with corn husks, through aisles lined with vegetables carefully staked in neat piles I slowly wound my way through the market. I love the bright colors of the produce in contrast to the grey cement. I am still amazed at the variety of fruits and vegetables I am not familiar with.

I bought a new fruit today for our family to try tonight. Borojoa is a tropical fruit that is grown in Colombia and Ecuador. A bit rare but typical way to find borojoa in a market is in its fermented state. The Colombians mix water, sugar and the fermented fruit to make the drink. We will see.

There was an area of herbs for medicinal purposes. Sacks of grains and nuts. Nuts are particularly hard to find here as well as wheat flour.

The meat section was particularly interesting. The sight of a crate of skinned sheep heads on the floor next to the prayer candles was a bit startling. As well as the pig heads hanging on hooks. The thing with the pig's head is that it always looks like it is smiling at you. It actually takes the tension off being confronted with the reality of where the meat we eat comes from!

This market had a section titled “Expendio de Visceras”. In other words, tripe. Yuck. Stalls of intestines, tongues, livers, teets, bladders, heads (yes, you read that correctly) and hoofs. What you do with these things, I don't even want to know. I can't help but stare at these things. They are so foreign to me. In many markets the smell of the meat is very overwhelming, but here I was not conscious of an odor at all. All the more reason to return!

Journal Day 1

Today I read my first homework assignment for the online writing class I am taking. This week I am supposed to “keep a journal describing my home”. I think the instructor means the “city I am currently living in” rather than my house. I am supposed to observe things I pass in everyday life that make my town unique. So what better way to journal than in my blog? This way you can all get a glimpse of what I see in Bogota!

Here goes....

Today I met a group of American women for lunch to celebrate a birthday. The birthday girl chose “Cafe Renault” in Parque 93, an upscale restaurant just a ten minute walk from my apartment. I left my apartment wearing jeans and a long sleeve shirt with a jacket slung over my arm and an umbrella tucked in my purse. The sun was shining and the afternoon was unusually warm. Needing to walk everywhere I always plan what stops I need to make along the way.

First stop was the dry-cleaners. I walked in, the chic clerk asked my phone number, she put it into the computer and recorded my clothes. I paid and took my computer printed receipt.

The next stop was the hardware store just a block away, to get a nut that was lost while shipping the grill. These tiny hardware stores are everywhere. They can be identified by the large, yellow key hanging from the awning. The hardware store has not failed me yet. Hundreds of trays with various nails, nuts and screws are along the wall. Rope, string, glues and hangers are in various containers. I explain what I am looking for and the attendant digs around for a few minutes and produces exactly what I need. My screw cost me the equivalent of a nickel. No computer, no receipt. Just an old cash register to keep the money in and a calculator to figure the sale.

Now I head for Cafe Renault. Parque 93 is an upscale dining area surrounding a park. On a Sunday afternoon in the park you will see families hanging out, dogs playing and an opera or soccer game showing on a large screen. Restaurants, cafes and coffee shops line three sides of the park. Everything from McDonalds, with a McCafe, to Sushi is available. Although the area draws mainly the upperclass and business people, one never forgets they are in a third world country as a horse drawn cart passes by or a beggar holds out their hand for some change.

"Half Broke Horses"

I just returned from my first book club. It's one of those things that I've wanted to be involved in for awhile, but the timing, focus, or mix of people hasn't worked out. But this group has fit every expectation and need. The women are easy going, enjoy laughing, have perspective but don't burden a subject and it's broadening the scope of what I read.

The book I squeaked out just in time to discuss today was “Half Broke Horses” by Jeannette Wells. I'm not going to go into a long deliberation on the book, but rather share with you what struck me about the book and the discussion as pertaining to my life as a State Department wife.

The main character, Lily, had two distinct times in life where due to circumstances she changed from having indoor pluming back to using an outhouse. One woman brought this up and how difficult she thought it would be going backwards with this type of convenience. The idea of loosing one's plumbing for extended amounts of time seemed unfathomable to the group. Cracks were made about the frustration of apartment buildings shutting off water from 3 a.m. to 6 a.m. for maintenance. I agree, it is an inconvenience and hassle. Then one person wisely said “It's like having a maid, then not having a maid.” The room got a little quiet for just a moment as the reality of the concept sunk into their heads. How tough would it be to “survive” here in Bogota without a maid? These women seemed to think it would be impossible. They also seem to dread the thought of going back to the States and not having that convenience at hand. This is not the first or only group of women I have run into here who think this way. It is the prevailing mentality that women are incapable without a maid.

I sat there very quietly taking it all in. Half the women there don't know me and don't know that I don't have a maid. I'll admit there are times I would like a maid because I get a bit overwhelmed with the apartment size, the amount of dirt that blows in the windows and the laundry that is always piling up. I have no problem with people having maids and enjoying the freedom it brings. But I wonder how dependent people become on these conveniences, whether it be a toilet or a maid, and loose the ability to enjoy life. How will I fare when the Great Depression hits, my house burns down or I move back to America? Is the joy of my life dependent on these things?