1. Limited food options in Austria (although most things can be had, cranberries are AWOL. Turkey will be absolutely fresh, though--I ordered him myself! I even got to pick a "him" or "her.")
2. Decidedly different appliance proportions (I'm not sure my 11 pound turkey will fit into the economical oven I have available.)
3. No one knows why it's important, no one celebrates it here (which can also be seen as a plus: not only in that I get to share interesting and important cultural moments, like stories about how I used to stick the black olives on my fingertips, but only a few could potentially boast they've had tastier Thanksgiving eats).
4. In addition, no one wants to hear about the absolutely horrific behavior of the settlers (at the root of the original Thanksgiving story), but I feel obliged to tell them this of this beloved holiday's sordid origin (would you like some tales of woe, misery, and racism with your mashed potatoes, Herr Schmidt?)
5. I have never cooked this meal alone, nor do I have a sous chef (which is why I spent the last half hour chopping veggies on top of my mini-fridge. This gives me ample opportunity for adventure and experimentation in the kitchen, to my hearty delight.)
The daily mental meltdown moment is brought to you by these vegetables: While chopping, I shot one over the edge, back to the dusty, dank, and unexplored crevice behind the fridge. Feeling this wasn't one of those moments where ignoring it would make the problem go away, I scooted the fridge out from the wall, only to have the machine suddenly shut off.
Assuming it was broken, I waited about 15 minutes for it to come back on, and when it did not, I of course evacuated my fragile perishables to the neighbor's fridge and texted the landlord. As you can probably guess, I was greeted moments afterward by the friendly whirr of a fully functional fridge.
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