Thanksgiving Birthday

I was born on Thanksgiving. Every once in a while, it lands on my birthday, but I have only had one Thanksgiving birthday in Hong Kong. That one feels like a lifetime ago. Most of the time, Thanksgiving is not on my birthday and once or twice I was out of the country. This year, I am in Barcelona.

Thanksgiving is not an important holiday in Spain. In fact, they really don't seem to care at all about Pilgrims and Indians making corn and pumpkin pie. No one cares about Thanksgiving in Hong Kong either, but there are enough American and Canadian expats that you can always find something happening somewhere.

A few years ago, I was in Tokyo during Thanksgiving. Japan cares about the holiday even less than Spain, but we found a restaurant owned by some American expats who did a big Thanksgiving dinner every year. Unfortunately, they closed down last year. I don't know why. It seemed like it was the go to place for Americans in Tokyo who wanted a genuine American breakfast. That was my most American Thanksgiving since I moved to Hong Kong. Until this year.

In Barcelona, I went to a place called Flaherty's, one block east of la Rambla, between Placa Reial and the beach. It is an Irish pub that serves a combination of Italian entrées, Mexican appetizers, English breakfast, Irish pies and American sandwiches. They are apparently famous for their annual Thanksgiving dinner. They even show American football games on TV, something no one did in Tokyo. I don't care about football unless the Vikings win the Super Bowl, which has yet to happen. But sometimes it is nice to be in a large room full of other expats talking about our shared culture. I was an American living in China and celebrating Thanksgiving at an Irish pub in Spain, but I was far from the only one away from home.

Flaherty's Thanksgiving menu looked pretty good. They had all kinds of food that sounded like Thanksgiving on the surface, but were not quite Thanksgiving where I come from. There was pumpkin soup with smoked parsnip, date tarts with goat cheese, herb mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes with a Guinness glaze, cranberry sauce with thyme infused red wine. For dessert, they had bread and butter pudding and apple pie. Yet again, I could not find any pumpkin pie on Thanksgiving. They had pumpkin soup, so there must be some pumpkins somewhere, but no pie. The Tokyo restaurant had pumpkin pie, but I think they used Japanese pumpkins. My genuine pumpkin pie quest continues. Although, I suppose at this point, it really does not matter.

Since it was my birthday, I got a free slice of chocolate Guinness cake and more than a few people offered to buy me drinks. I'm not much of a drinker, but I was surprised to realize that I had not had any alcohol for over a year. When you can't taste anything, it would be exceptionally easy to drink anyone under the table. Everyone else downs a shot and they react immediately, or even sooner. The smell of their drink hits them before it even touches their tongue. I can drink vodka like it is water. Fortunately, I know what would happen if I tried to win that contest. I have always hated getting drunk, especially the next day. So even back when I could taste what I was drinking, I always took it easy.

The weird thing about Irish pubs in Spain, at least this one, was that no one tried to talk me into drinking too much. I don't know if there were fewer opportunists there or if I'm just getting too old for men in bars to try to get me drunk. I like to think I'm still young, but on your birthday, you know exactly how old you are.