I can't think of a better Thanksgiving dinner than the one I had last night at my (American) friend Rachel's house here in Damascus.

There were about ten of us, all Arabic language students -- except for me, the lone journalist.

First, we sat down to a delicious dinner of roasted chicken and vegetables, leek stuffing, mashed potatoes, apple crisp and squash pie.

We then went around the table and told everyone one thing we weren't thankful for this year (our tribute to the "Festivous" episode of Seinfeld, one of the most popular TV shows in Syria). Our complaints ranged from the way people behave on buses to bad landlords to neverending residency paperwork.

All joking aside, I do have a lot to be thankful for this year.

1. People who take the time to talk to me for my articles despite their busy schedules and who give me great quotes

2. People who have befriended me, despite the political situation

3. My friends across the world who keep in touch with me via email, making me feel like we're still close despite the distance

4. My parents, who are trying to help me straighten out my banking situation, as my credit card keeps on getting frozen due to "unusual charges" (Does Wells Fargo have something against shopping in Syria?)

5. My editors, who helped me get here, and are helping me stay here

6. Even the bad things that happen -- because they make me thankful for the good things... and sometimes they give me something to write about

A cat named Curt lives in our house.

He belongs to my housemate, Eva, but he seems to think the entire house belongs to him.

It's hard to believe such a little creature can get into so much trouble.

For example, last week he hid my passport, and I was really panicked for an entire day until I found it under the couch.

Two days ago, he was playing with the wires of my TV, and he succeeded in breaking my satellite receiver.

For an entire evening, I was only able to watch local TV, which was almost more than I could bear. It's like watching Fox News, but in Arabic. I'll just leave it at that.

Well, I'd better get back home -- before I find Curt has changed the locks.

Actually, he can be very sweet. He usually greets me by jumping into my lap and purring. Where else can I get such a warm reception from a man in my life?

To the few people who read my blog to stay in touch with me,

I can't access my AIM messenger service or my Hotmail account.

I expect to get the issue resolved in about a week.

Until then, you can reach me at Brookethenews@gmail.com.

Or, of course, you can comment on this blog.

Sorry for the inconvenience... What am I talking about? I'm living in a place where You-Tube, MySpace and countless other everyday sites are banned.

Every week or two, I get a "warden message" from the US embassy in Damascus.

These emails are usually meant to warn the American community in Syria about any potential dangers that could face us.

For example, they say something like, "There will be an anti-America protest in West Mezzeh today. We asking all Americans to avoid this area."

I do just the opposite. As a journalist, my first thought is to take a taxi to the spot of the actitivity.

After all, that's the closest thing I'll ever get to receiving a press release here.

The election party at the US embassy might have been canceled due to recent events, but that didn't keep people Damascus from celebrating on their own.

My housemates and I had a small party on the night of the elections. Less than 10 people showed up. We would have had more guests, but there were so many competing parties all over Damascus that evening.

My friends and I flipped back and forth between BCC and Al Jazeera, anxious to see any sort of results.

At about 1 a.m., we finally gave up, our guests went home, without even knowing if there was anything to celebrate.

My American friend, Rachel, slept over so that she could go straight to her Arabic classes the next morning.

Shortly after we woke up, Rachel turned on the TV. I could hear her from the living room exclaim, "Holy cow!"

I asked, "What's the matter?"

"It looks like Obama won by a landslide!" she yelled.

I jumped out of bed, and joined her in front of the TV.

We were sitting there with an unopened bottle of champagne on the coffee table from the previous night.

It was just 8 a.m., and I asked her, "Do you think it's too early to have champagne?"

"No," she said without hesitation.

After she left, I took the champagne bottle, and brought it to the internet cafe where one of our guests from the previous night works. A Syrian Muslim, he said, " This is my first time having champagne. It's pretty good."

More celebrating...

Last night, I was walking down the street, I ran into a Syrian TV/movie star, whom I know from interviewing him several times for news articles.

As it turned out, we were on our way to the same restaurant (which I use for its wifi).

I joined the actor and a group of his artist friends at a table of about ten people.

This time, the drinks were Lebanese wine and Syrian Arak. We kept on raising our glasses, "to health."

And finally, we all raised our glasses high, and clinked them together, the best reason to say cheers in 8 years: "To Obama!"

I just returned to Damascus from the Iraqi border, about an 8-hour bus ride.

I'm glad to be back because the whole experience was really weird.

Right now, I'm still trying to decide what was creepier:

-- The fact that I was accompanied by 5 intelligenced agents everywhere I went in Eastern Syria.

OR

-- When I got back to my hotel room and turned on the TV, the only station that couldn't get reception was Al Jazeera (Arabic station that the US Defense Department destests for its criticism of the Iraq War), and the station at the top of the menu was Al Hurra (American propaganda station in Arabic aimed at winning hearts and minds). Is it possible America is controlling the airwaves in Eastern Syria?