You would expect Thanksgiving in Baghdad to be drastically different than Thanksgiving back in the United States. Although there are subtle differences, many traditions remain exactly the same.
Every morning, I get the exact same breakfast I’ve had for the past five months. It’s scrambled eggs, a few strips of bacon, turkey sausage, and grits.
In Baghdad, you would expect that some locals would be serving the food, but ironically, the people serving the food to me are neither Iraqi nor American. They are Indian.
Every now and then, I get hungry when I’m sitting at my desk. That’s why I keep a very small stash of goodies. Unfortunately, the rats have found where I hide them.
The other day, I was asking my friend what time he wanted to go to lunch. Generally, we depart somewhere between 12:30 and 1 p.m.
I usually go to the same dining facility for lunch every day. I’m a creature of habit. However, I’ve just about had it with the music they play in there.
Most of the time they play what sounds like a Kenny G album.
It’s always on a loop, and it’s always unbearably loud.
Over the past four months, I’ve enjoyed the Pizza Hut pies here on three occasions. In truth, I only enjoyed two of them. One was “stuffed crust,” which is awful.
I had forgotten how much I enjoyed pizza, though.
When it comes to food options in Iraq, there are very few. I’ve had about every preparation possible for chicken, and if I ate fish, I would be able to say the same about that, too.
In Qatar, my options are much wider.