Go Bananas: Thanksgiving in Beijing

I meant to post pictures of my first ever Thanksgiving but I have spent much of this week in a vegetative post feeding-orgy state, much like a python after a big meal of deer/tapir/Cheesy Wotsits or whatever it is that pythons eat. That's what you get for hanging out with Americans although that said, Brits don't really celebrate anything and when they do it invariably involves large-scale consumption of alcohol, so much so that all different celebrations kind of meld into one indistiguishable lager-swilling festival. Josh did mention something about starting a bonfire for Guy Fawkes Night but somehow I couldn't see a bunch of tanked up laowais dancing around a blazing pile of old matresses going down very well with the Public Security Bureau.

The first Thanksgiving Dinner I attended was held last Sunday by Max's classmates. They rented the canteen at the old Beida Foreign Student's Dormitories for a couple of hours and used the industrial size kitchen to prepare food, including the all important turkey. Max and I were assigned mash potato duty which I'm proud to say is one of two things I am able to prepare, the other being spread on toast. I have to thank my Belfast years for my spud skills where I regularly prepared tudouni (and a dizzying array of fried, chipped, broiled, baked, boiled, grilled, roast, deep-fried or otherwise prepared potatoes) for the 30 screaming cousins, bickering aunts and uncles and random house guests that would descend upon my then boyfriend's grandmother's house in North Belfast for Sunday dinner. We stopped off at the Zhicunlu subway station on the way to Wudaokou because we wanted to check out Walmart and also because well, it seemed like a p

erfectly safe assumption to make that Walmart would stock your ordinary household potato. We eventually found the fresh produce section after running around in circles following misleading direction signs. We scoured all the alleys but could not find a single potato. Sweet potato - yes. Dragon fruit - check. Durians from Thailand - I'll have a half dozen. Bay leaves - yep. But when I went up to the supermarket attendant to ask for tudou all I got was an all too familiar reply: a curt "Meiyou!" Plenty of attitude and not a potato in sight - that's Walmart with Chinese characteristics for you. Max and I eventually hunted down the fugitive spuds and made it to the Thanksgiving Dinner. Now, I became a vegetarian for many reasons, including developing healthy eating habits. However, I am positive that vegetarians at Thanksgiving Dinners are at risk of developing adult onset diabetes. Whilst everyone else helped themselves to large chunks of turkey, I found myself in high-carb heaven that was every Atkin's followers nightmare, filling myself with stuffing, mash potatoes, sweet potato casserole, pecan pie, pumpkin pie, apple crumble and freshly baked biscuits.

I had only barely recovered from that ordeal when I experienced my second brush with this American glorification of masochistic over-eating at the legendary Club M. The boys really outdid themselves and made full use of the limited cooking equipment they possessed. The turkey was cooked in the microwave and turned out very nicely indeed while the toaster oven churned out pumpkin pies and apple pies. Because it was a quasi-potluck do, the guests also folded up their sleeves and got crackin' with making stuffing, garlic mash potatoes, some killer grilled mayo-parmesan southwestern bread things, jiaozis and salads while others came bringing gifts of cheesecakes and other devillishly sinful desserts. And what's a party without a room full of happily tipsy guests? My contribution: two buckets of deceivingly strong fruit punch.

Chez MattD and Bertha the Turkey

Feeding frenzy!

Mmm... dessert time...

David:"Eeek!"
Matt:"Eeek!"

Josh:"Hmm... this punch looks dodgy.."
Max:"Yeah, it's as evil as the woman who made it. Won't catch me drinking that witch's brew, which is why I'm sticking to tasty, refreshing, watered down Yanjing beer."

Josh:"It was HER idea!"

Me:"Oh shut up Josh and just lap it up. You're my muse. *coo*"

Josh:"You mean I'm your aMUSEment."

Josh:"I dunno... what does the Parisian say?"

Denis:"Ooh lala, tres chic, mon amour..."

Josh and Pete in the middle of an attempted murder.

You know what they say about the 3Ms - beautiful women follow them around like flies on shit every where they go.

Smokin'!

Julia and Alina doing what they do best - looking irresistable.

Josh, ever the Englishman, could not hide his contempt for his American contemporaries and their encroachment on his personal space.

Julia:"Ooh, what a lovely bunch of people."
Josh:"Stay away from me, you freakoid!"

Jia:"Hello, darlings."
Josh:"Gaah! Gyaaah! I hate all of you!! Stop touching me!!"

Elsewhere, Pete just could not seem to stay out of trouble...

"How many times do I have to tell you? Stop copping a feel when my back is turned or somebody's gonna get hurt real bad. I'll take you out, mister, just you wait!"