Today is the beginning of the end of Ramadan. This month has passed by at an excruciatingly slow pace. In fact, Ramadan seems to last for so long that for weeks afterwards I will still hesitate before drinking water in public, as if I've trained myself to believe that Arabs simply never eat or drink during the day.
This is especially true in Islamic Cairo after Iftar, when everything is lit up in brilliant colors, small concerts are playing on each corner, and children are setting off deafeningly loud fireworks. Everyone is drinking coffee, smoking shisha, and eating teen shawki (or spiky figs, which are really cactus fruit) that are carted down the streets in large green and yellow piles. In moments like those it's easy to see the charm in Ramadan, but that is only a glimpse into a month full of inconveniences and absurdities. As a non-Muslim westerner, do you want to grab a beer at your favorite bar? No such luck. How about watch a movie with some Muslim friends? You better make sure it doesn't have any sort of nudity or even the tamest of sex scenes. Do you want to order a hamburger at a major restaurant? Too bad, they inexplicably do not sell 100% halal hamburgers at any time during Ramadan. And, finally, after about 15 hours without food or water, in 100+ degree heat, the very first thing many Egyptian men do at sundown is light up a cigarette.
Mohamed Mahmoud street right before Iftar.
The next few days will be packed with street parties to celebrate Eid. A lot of people, especially foreigners, leave the city to avoid the hassle. Trying to get anything done over this weekend is hopeless and even making one's way through the crowded streets is near impossible at times. I found, however, that at the right time, with the right atmosphere, it can be really exciting.
This is especially true in Islamic Cairo after Iftar, when everything is lit up in brilliant colors, small concerts are playing on each corner, and children are setting off deafeningly loud fireworks. Everyone is drinking coffee, smoking shisha, and eating teen shawki (or spiky figs, which are really cactus fruit) that are carted down the streets in large green and yellow piles. In moments like those it's easy to see the charm in Ramadan, but that is only a glimpse into a month full of inconveniences and absurdities. As a non-Muslim westerner, do you want to grab a beer at your favorite bar? No such luck. How about watch a movie with some Muslim friends? You better make sure it doesn't have any sort of nudity or even the tamest of sex scenes. Do you want to order a hamburger at a major restaurant? Too bad, they inexplicably do not sell 100% halal hamburgers at any time during Ramadan. And, finally, after about 15 hours without food or water, in 100+ degree heat, the very first thing many Egyptian men do at sundown is light up a cigarette.
Probably the strangest Ramadan experience this year was when I ventured to Coptic Cairo, figuring that I could explore the area and not worry about eating or drinking in public in this Christian neighborhood. It was true that others were eating and drinking freely, but as soon as I arrived I was told to leave--the churches, museums, and gardens were closing at 2pm for Ramadan. Instead, I wandered around the houses and some graves for a little while until I felt out-of-place enough to just head back home.
The Greek Orthodox Church and Monastery of Saint George (Mar Girgis Church)
For many Muslims, Ramadan is a time to be with friends and family, socializing in large groups on an almost daily basis. For non-Muslim foreigners, it may be the exact opposite. Aside from the occasional Iftar, most time is spent alone or at work since there is nothing to do or to explore unless you reverse your schedule by sleeping at 5am and waking up in the early afternoon. For non-Muslims, Ramadan is definitely worth experiencing once, but not three years in a row. Maybe I'll have the foresight to leave the country next year.
Some other pictures from the last month include street graffiti, a trip to al-Azhar Park, and my first somewhat official interview with the owner of L'Orientaliste book shop downtown.
