Our very own Turkey Trot.

I have vivid memories from when I was a little girl, of my mother in the week leading up to Thanksgiving. She would pour over recipe books, trying to find something new and special. She would make multiple trips to the grocery store in search of the perfect ingredients and fill the refrigerator with all sorts of strange and exotic things. And I love going to John's family's house before a big holiday, I like seeing all of his mother's lists everywhere. One of my favorite holiday memories at their house was realizing that his mother was checking her list just before we all sat down to eat, to make sure she didn't forget anything.

Last Saturday was just a typical Saturday. Football (soccer) matches to coordinate, household tasks to catch up on, that sort of thing. I managed to fit in a run in between matches, and when I got back John said "Maybe we should do Thanksgiving tomorrow?" I stopped and stared.

If I've learned anything in the last five years of living here, it's this. First, of all of the holidays, Thanksgiving is the hardest to replicate. The actual holiday itself is a wash. The kids have school, the rest of the world (here) goes about their daily business. Sure, we could try to have a turkey dinner at night, but who wants to eat loads of turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy and stuffing and pumpkin pie at 7pm on a weeknight? And then get up for school the next day? We've solved that problem by celebrating with a dinner either the weekend before, or after. My preference is actually the week before (because then we get an extra week of Christmas prep!) But John was traveling last week, we hadn't talked about it, I didn't plan for anything and I just assumed our Thanksgiving dinner would be the weekend after.

The other thing I've learned after our time here, is that when you really want, or desperately need to find something at a grocery store in Belgium, it's pretty much a guarantee that you won't be able to find it. We don't exactly have Butterballs lining the cooler cases here, if you know what I mean. Ocean Spray cranberry sauce? Not on your life. Stove Top? Nope. The last two items are usually a non-issue. These are always premeditated, and this year were imported on John's last trip from the U.S. That left the most critical element to fate. Oh, and don't forget, stores here are closed on Sunday. There would be no second chances. 

It felt like I'd been handed my very own Amazing Race challenge: Find a turkey in the grocery store, somewhere in Belgium in the next 45 minutes. Ready? Go. 

It might have been the Nike labels I was wearing that made me say this, but I turned to John and said, "Ok, let's do it." I called Monkey into the kitchen. "We're leaving for your football match now, I have to stop at the store first." I called to Miss B, "Let's go," I said, "We're going on a mission!" We all hurried out the door.

I need to stop right now and explain something else. Here in Belgium, women do not wear workout gear to go to the grocery store. Ever. I was committing a major fashion faux pas by leaving the house in my running clothes, and *gasp* baseball hat. But it was all in the name of pulling together a major American holiday. I figured I was wearing the perfect outfit.

There are two grocery stores in our town (La Hulpe). One was recently remodeled so I ruled it out as a stop immediately -- ever since they moved everything around, I am completely out of sorts when I go in there and can't find anything, let alone waste precious minutes trying to find a turkey. We tried the other one, and got our potatoes. And Monkey picked out a toothbrush for his brother. (A long story, and totally unrelated topic, but it has to do with him not paying attention to which toothbrush he grabs when he is in a hurry.) I found turkey, but it was a small breast. And get this (I'm warning you, don't choke) it was 10 euros for .3 kg. (Don't miss the decimal point.) In any event, it would work in a pinch.  If I found nothing else, I would cough up a lot of money for a tiny piece of "dinde" (french turkey). With maybe some chicken pieces thrown in for good measure. 

We dropped Monkey to his match for his warmup, and synchronized our watches. We had approximately 30 minutes to get back to La Hulpe before John needed the car to go back to Monkey's match. We pointed our car towards Waterloo, the neighborhood of the American school and home to a lot of expats. If we were going to find a turkey under a time limit, the weekend before Thanksgiving, I knew it would be there. Holding hands, Miss B and I ran into a store. I knew it was a long shot, but it was on the way to my biggest hope, so it was worth a stop. We saw a friend from school, "We can't stop to talk," we gasped, "we're trying to find a turkey for our Thanksgiving dinner!" No turkey at that store either.

So we went to the "big" store. There, in the back by the meat counter, we found what would be our Thanksgiving turkey. But it was all in bits. I spent 20 euros on a breast, and two leg parts. But we had turkey. Miss B and I high-fived each other and went home to share the good news. We had managed to "piece" together Thanksgiving in 45 minutes. (Ha, get it?) That has to be some sort of expat record.

Sunday, we had our turkey dinner. With the leftovers planned for tonight. I am thankful for so many things in my life. But especially for this experience, the perspective it has provided, and how thankful it makes me for the little things I never thought to think about before - like making sure we have turkey to eat on Thanksgiving.