It is 3:30PM November 26, 2009. I take a deep breath as I swallow a spoonful of green bean casserole—probably from my third round of food. I look at the table to see what is left for another helping. My eyes
get big as I notice that the vegetarian stuffing hasn’t been touched
and that there are a few shrimps left at the end of the table. “Yes!—I
think.” Shortly after, I go into a food coma, throw on my sweatpants,
and curl into a ball for an afternoon nap. Not before long, I awake and
pounce on apple pie for dessert. This is Thanksgiving…this is a true
American Thanksgiving. This year I won’t be having one of those. This
year I will be saying “Grazie” rather than “Thank you” and I will be
stuffing my body with endless baskets of bread, bowls of pasta, and
bites of pizza. This year I will spend Thanksgiving in Florence, Italy.
It was just two years ago that I spent Thanksgiving in Rome, Italy. At the time, the class that I had studied abroad with was fortunate enough to have our group leaders organize a Thanksgiving dinner at one of the most prestigious hotel rooftops in all of Italy, The Marriott on Via Veneto. As a few of my roommates, my brother, and I approached the beautiful hotel, we began to ponder what we would be filling our plates with that night. Of course I cried out, “There better be green bean casserole.”