Being and ex-pat in Granada isn’t the the most rare of things. We’ve met ex-pats in this city from every walk of life, every social class, every sexual orientation. Some are ex-cons, some are ex-husbands, some are ex-DEA and some are even ex-travelers that have commonly chosen this city as a comfortable resting place, for the time being. The one thing all of the American brand of ex-pats have in common, is a slight melancholy for turkey and cranberry sauce on a certain third Thursday in November.
That was exactly the feeling Miro and I had this particular morning.
I am not nationalistic at all, think the holiday of commemorating the slaughter of thousands if native Americas nor am I patriotic, but the coming together of friends and family to share a special meal was the tradition Miro and I longed for.
Early on Thanksgiving morning, Miro and I set out to find a public Thanksgiving dinner, one we could participate in, something we could look forward to for that evening. I was certain it wouldn’t be too difficult to find, and within fifteen minutes, we were pointed to a restaurant called Jimmy Three Fingers, a well known BBQ rib joint in town.
We arrived at the restaurant, “Mr. Three Fingers” was in the bar area in the front of the building, doing some paper work and giving the random staff member instructions of tasks to perform in preparation for this evenings dinner. We were greeted by Jimmy’s friendly face and shook his hand with, you probably guessed it, Jimmy’s three fingers.
We signed up for the later seating for that evening and I asked him what I could do to help. After all, it didn’t feel like a Thanksgiving celebration unless I did something in the kitchen, helped in some way. He invited Miro and I to arrive early and help him seat the guests for the first seating, and for that, I was grateful.
Before we set out to Jimmy Three Fingers, we chatted with my mom on skype. We were at a small internet cafe, and when my mom brought her “bird” into the computer room from the kitchen and did a little dance with the turkey’s wings, the other patrons in the internet cafe were as entertained as Miro and I were. It was great celebrating with silly and lightness with mom which was so many miles away in California. We laughed a bit and I made her promise us she would have an extra helping of her amazing carrot ring for us. Yes, satisfying, but not filling. 🙂 We said our goodbyes, and we headed out for our Thanksgiving dinner plans.
We arrived early, helped out where we could, but there wasn’t really much for us to do. The place was buzzing with American patrons, all there for the same satisfying reason. We had fabulous turkey, stuffing, and veggies all common to the country, all amazing. The only thing the dinner was missing was cranberry sauce, but we forgave Jimmy as he explained it was virtually impossible to find that in Nicaragua. Jimmy took a liking to Miro and I and spent time eating with us, drinking with us and then breaking out his guitar and singing. Later that evening, Miro got onto Jimmy’s Harley, for his first motorcycle “hog” experience.
Thanksgiving this year was a little unexpected, but so is life on the road. Miro and I are giving thanks for such a wonderful day with new friends and family connected through experiences.