This article was originally published in the November 2018 Princeton Echo.
We all were once strangers in a strange land, even those Native Americans whose benign presence at the “first” Thanksgiving has evolved into an enduring icon of the Pilgrim myth. On a less Norman Rockwell level, anyone who has traveled knows it is quite daunting to find yourself in another place during a festival that interrupts the usual flow. You don’t know the customs, you don’t know what to do or where to go. Magnify that a thousand-fold and you have Thanksgiving, the day America stops everything to eat, watch football, and fall asleep.
For a foreign student at Princeton, the scene must be dislocating. The usual bustle of the campus is stilled, the town is nearly deserted after the early morning buzz of the Turkey Trot. Everyone has somewhere else to be, except you unless you have been invited to a friend’s home for dinner. Even if you have heard about this major American holiday from movies or friends, you can’t have a full appreciation of the deeply rooted tradition as it has evolved without being there.
Thanks to the Davis International Center at Princeton University, families in town have the opportunity to welcome students who “come from away” to join them for this classic American event. We have invited students three years in a row and have had a rewarding and sometimes hilarious time. I knew about the opportunity because I had been a conversational English tutor through the center.
How many students could we entertain? Heck, the more the merrier because who wants to be alone on Thanksgiving?
Each year I was given the students’ emails some weeks prior to Thanksgiving so I was able to let everyone know that we would be serving a quintessential Northeastern mid-century meal, including the iconic green bean casserole, complete with crunchy onion rings from a can. I included it only for its value as an archetype, never thinking it would be demolished. Some dishes were tentatively tried and sampled, others once tasted disappeared.
Our first year we had three graduate students, one from Germany, one from France, and one from China. They were strangers to us and to each other, but that became irrelevant almost instantaneously. Each was studying something completely different so we had a built-in icebreaker. My significant other’s college-age sons were also there so conversation flowed easily, even extending into an impromptu music evening after dinner. Never be without a piano in the parlor.
The next year we also had three students, this time all from China. Again, the conversation flowed, mostly surrounding the differences among the different regions they each hailed from. It was surprising to hear one student who had been raised in an exceptionally rural area correct the impressions of life in the hinterlands held by the other two, who were urbanites. The city kids had thought they knew all about the cultural and political life of the area, and it was great to see their faces when the “country mouse” politely said, “Actually, that’s not true…”
We never knew what our guests would find arcane or what aspects of daily American life would require explanation. That second year, I excused myself to go into the kitchen to whip the cream for the pies. As I busied myself getting the ice-cold beaters and bowl out of the freezer, I became aware that two of the students were standing wide-eyed by the counter. Who knew they had never seen real whipped cream being made, and they were fascinated. I suspect getting to lick the beaters made it into at least one email home.
Last year we had two students. One was studying ORFE, operations research and financial engineering, which elicited appropriate ooohs and ahhhhs given the reputation of that department’s cutting-edge areas of inquiry. It was a general source of amusement that even our extremely articulate guest, with his impeccable English, could not for the life of him tell us what the heck they really do in his department.
Each year we have been impressed by how eager our guests have been to join us. Some are much more fluent in English than others, but eating is universal. One fascinating topic of conversation is always having them tell us about the harvest festivals at home. Timing of the festivals varies, of course, given the rhythm of each region’s climate but there is always something special that happens when the bounty of the land comes in before the long cold settles over cities and villages alike. Each culture has its special food or sweet that is unique. At our table, cranberry sauce is mostly an acquired taste as is mince pie, but pumpkin and pecan pies are inhaled. It has been gratifying to see each student at least try everything.
Our guests have all adopted the courtesy of the hostess gift. The year we had three students from China, they all chipped in to present us with a massive basket of goodies we had never seen before. It was such a treat to learn what each item was and what made each thing special. The one thing no one seems to have communicated to them, however, is the art of the thank you. While effusive with thanks as they departed, only one ever sent a follow-up e-mail a few days later. Yet, this is a trivial quibble given the pleasure of company.
By 1621, 50 Europeans, only half of the settlers who arrived on the Mayflower, had survived their first year in the New World. Sometime around September they celebrated their first harvest. They were strangers in a very strange land but some of the locals helped them settle in.
To be a host: The Davis International Center is seeking host families for Thanksgiving 2018. To host one or more international scholars, e-mail Hanna Hand at hhand@princeton.edu by Monday, November 5, with your name, address, phone, and email, as well as the number of students you can host.
The Center also matches international students with long-term host families who arrange regular gatherings for meals, outings, and other cultural activities. For more information visit davisic.princeton.edu.
,
