One of the more bizarre ex-pat experiences is remembering and forgetting holidays.
Thanksgiving is soooo not celebrated here — and I don’t really miss it. Yes, I miss the excuse of having a few days off and either seeing my family back home in Texas or Minnesota, or spending a quiet day with my husband, in New York, eating Tofurkey.
But I don’t miss the gluttony, the football (wow — how I so do not miss that) or the stress of traveling during the holidays.
It’s just another day here, and that’s fine with me.