For the poor Russians who come in contact with me, they have no place in their knowledge or stereotypes of America in which to place me. They often know more about American pop culture than I do. When I tell them I was homeschooled for several years, they ask if I was extremely sick or disabled—the only children who are taught at home in Russia. My students stare at me in disbelief when I tell them my intent to live in Russia full-time. Is life that bad in America, they ask out loud?
There is another American living in Syktyvkar for the semester. You think he might help in teaching the Russians about life in America, but he is even less stereotypically American than I am. He’s from Alaska. That’s enough proof right there.
Anyhow, between the two of us we were able to host a Thanksgiving dinner. I was really excited to share Thanksgiving with Russians, and to teach about the celebration in my classes. I realize the holiday has some shaky roots in over-simplifying the relationship between the Pilgrims and the Native Americans, among other things, but I thought to myself, Thanksgiving is one of the least commercialized holidays, it’s good for Russians to see us in this light. Then I remembered the chaos and ridiculous tradition of Black Friday, and once again America was regulated to the position of looks-good-on-the-outside-somewhat-rotten-on-the-inside.
Most of my conversations about America involve me doing one of two things, and often a combination of both. 1) I defend most Americans from the stereotypes of eating fast food three times a day, of women being scared of the kitchen, and of men being scared of women. But in trying to refute these stereotypes, I face the second side of this conversation. 2) Some Russians are so gung-ho about America and refuse to acknowledge any deficiencies or defects in her character or society, that I find myself repeatedly pointing out the flaws of American culture just to give them a balanced perspective.
Thanksgiving is just another example of this duality.
In attendance at our dinner were three Finns, a student from the Republic of Udmurtia, two Russian girls, and two Americans. This was not my first Thanksgiving in Russia (and I am sure it will not be my last). But this was the first Thanksgiving that I’ve organized and cooked, and completing this task in Russia just made it slightly more adventurous. Here are some thoughts on introducing Russians to this American celebration.
A) First of all, who knew that celery was such an important ingredient in so many holiday dishes? Who knew that celery doesn’t really exist in Russia? These are now questions I can tell you the answers to.
B) Russians <i>love</i> the idea that Americans eat turkey on our major holidays. Why is this idea so novel to them, I wondered? Because, like celery, turkey is also a rare occurrence in this country. I ended up buying a chicken, that after being stuffed and browned looked exactly like a turkey to my unsuspecting foreign dinner guests.
C) The Finns in attendance were amused by my stuffing of the bird.
D) Pumpkins in Russia, apparently, are not only a sad grayish-green color, they are also not commonly eaten here. According to one Russian in attendance, pumpkins are to be fed to animals, not humans.
E) Mashed potatoes made with beer and garlic equal amazingness. But for all the potato-based foods (and drinks) in this country, why haven’t they started using potato-peelers?
F) Cooking for more than two people (eight, actually) on a stove with two burners and an oven the size of a shoe-box can prove tricky. Also, not having access to my mother’s infinite supply of mixing bowls and saucepans makes planning ahead and assigning each cooking utensil a task quite necessary.
G) Sitting down and before sharing these “American” dishes, our company gave thanks in four languages, mostly grateful for the international harmony in the group and the strange circumstances that had us gathered together in a small Syktyvkar apartment celebrating historical harmony on a continent far away.