The super fun thing about dealing with the Arabic language (even more fun than the sounds they put in there just to weed out the foreigners) is learning how to read things from right to left. When practicing Arabic, it is fairly easy to remember this one basic rule. However, even though that's a absolute tenet of Arabic society, it isn't always second nature to us ignoramuses.
My main teacher, Leen, and I received our schedules of classes earlier this week. Hers was in Arabic, as she speaks Arabic, and mine was in English for a similar reason. The papers were identical; both showed equal-sized tables with boxes labeled for each class. We were going over when we would have free time when I glanced over at her schedule. "Hold on," I said to Leen. "We don't have the same schedule. Look, you don't have free time first thing on Monday, you have it for the last two periods." Leen looks down at her schedule. "Yes, I have free time first thing on Monday," she says, pointing to the last two boxes on Monday. "Right here."
"No, that's last peri... Oh. Arabic goes from right to left."
Duh, Gretchen. But in all fairness to me, how do you reverse 24 years of reading tables left to right in three weeks, especially when I am staring at my own table that goes left to right?
To her credit, Leen did not snicker at my brain's stubborn refusal to cross cultures.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
French Kissing
My first few days in France, I was introduced to the art of French kissing. No, not that French kissing, the cheek kiss they do as a way of greeting/introduction/nice-to-see-ya. This involves placing your cheek against someone else's and making a kiss sound in the air.
In Poitiers, I got used to doing one kiss on the right cheek to say hi to all my classmates every day, and two kisses for special friends, special occasions, if you were all kinds of enthusiastic about kissing someone, etc. In the south of France, especially among family friends, that number went up to three or four. Luckily, the girl just gets to wait for the guy to decide the number, so it involves no thinking or decision making regarding the social impact of going for two kisses when you only need one. Faux pas avoided. On the other hand, this also means that the girl has to be ready for any number of kisses coming her way.
Here in Jordan, they also use the kiss on the cheek as a greeting. However, I'm having quite a bit of confusion as to how many kisses to aim for. "Two," said one of the guys who lives next door, after I mistakenly tried to do the Poitiers kiss and pulled away after just one kiss (how embarrassing). One on each cheek. Ok. Sounds good. I can do that. A couple days later, I'm saying hi to some friends who stopped by the apartment. This time, I kissed both cheeks and went to pull away. The guy was still there. "Three in Amman," he insisted. What? We're going for three? Don't the natives even know how many kisses is appropriate?
So now my plan is to hover awkwardly in the general vicinity of someone's face until he is most definitely done cheek kissing me, while staring at his face avidly waiting for any sudden movements toward either of my cheeks. Embarrassment avoided.
In Poitiers, I got used to doing one kiss on the right cheek to say hi to all my classmates every day, and two kisses for special friends, special occasions, if you were all kinds of enthusiastic about kissing someone, etc. In the south of France, especially among family friends, that number went up to three or four. Luckily, the girl just gets to wait for the guy to decide the number, so it involves no thinking or decision making regarding the social impact of going for two kisses when you only need one. Faux pas avoided. On the other hand, this also means that the girl has to be ready for any number of kisses coming her way.
Here in Jordan, they also use the kiss on the cheek as a greeting. However, I'm having quite a bit of confusion as to how many kisses to aim for. "Two," said one of the guys who lives next door, after I mistakenly tried to do the Poitiers kiss and pulled away after just one kiss (how embarrassing). One on each cheek. Ok. Sounds good. I can do that. A couple days later, I'm saying hi to some friends who stopped by the apartment. This time, I kissed both cheeks and went to pull away. The guy was still there. "Three in Amman," he insisted. What? We're going for three? Don't the natives even know how many kisses is appropriate?
So now my plan is to hover awkwardly in the general vicinity of someone's face until he is most definitely done cheek kissing me, while staring at his face avidly waiting for any sudden movements toward either of my cheeks. Embarrassment avoided.
Waiter, there's an oil spill in my food
We’re well into the month of Ramadan now, and what’s on everyone’s mind? Smoking, most likely. I have never seen so many people who smoke in one county. Europe has nothing on the Jordanians. And there are no laws about smoking in public, so people smoke EVERYWHERE, including restaurants, taxis, hospitals, etc.
But actually, I was talking about food. Food is also on everyone’s mind. And in the spirit of helping others be hungry, here are some of the foody things I’ve noticed about Jordan.
First of all, I’ve already mentioned my diet here consists of about 80 percent labneh, za’atar and pita bread, which I just found out is called khubz. But that doesn’t mean it’s the only thing to eat (it’s the only thing to eat at my house, but that’s another story.).
A couple of days after coming in the country, I had possibly the most popular (or at least the most talked about) dish here: mensef. Mensef is basically spiced rice with almonds and or pine nuts, lamb or chicken and a yogurt sauce. For traditional mensef, which I have not experienced yet, a humongous tray of mensef is served to the guests. The women eat it with a spoon, and the men roll it into balls to eat with their hands. I, however, experienced mensef as our waiter brought it over on a plastic plate. So close. Apparently Heather got to try some mensef cooked by my dear, sweet cousin Melissa when she stayed with her for a couple of days. Lucky girl. Maybe, if I’m good, Melissa will cook for me sometime, too.
Other than mensef, I’ve had all kinds of other traditional Arabic dishes. You already heard about the oh-so-fabulous shwarmas, conveniently located on every street but the one we live on. You can also get all kinds of fresh, delicious hummus (or hommos) with olive oil pretty much everywhere. I’ve had kebabs; a fun dish called fuul, which is mashed beans with garlic in olive oil (it’s fun because who wants to try a dish that can be spelled ful, full, fool or foul respectively?); yogurt given to me in restaurants with olive oil; and olive oil. Did I mention the food is kind of oily here? You can also get any variety of meat or chicken and rice dishes with all kinds of yogurt sauces, spices and olive oil.
Within my first few days, I also got to try the dessert favorite here, kunafa. Kunafa is an exceedingly fattening dish that has a sweet cheese sandwiched in between fried sugar with about a literal ton of ghee (fatty butter) mixed in and melted on top. Very delicious, but fortunately for my daily calorie intake, it appears that I can’t eat more than about two bites of kunafa without spending the entire night in the bathroom, which mostly deters me from indulging too much.
If I’m not inclined to saturate myself with oil that night, I have any number of popular American restaurants I can go to for an oil break and a hint of home. We’ve got all the comforts, such as Papa John’s, Fuddruckers, Applebees, TGIFridays, Bennigans, and, most exciting of all, a new Ruby Tuesday in the City Mall.
We also have experimented with cooking American food in the house. A couple of weeks ago, Heather and I cooked up a rather fabulous dinner of tomato soup (made from scratch, thank you very much. Well, from tomato paste, milk and cream anyway) and grilled cheese sandwiches. Yesterday I also managed to make the ever-so-popular cheesy macaroni (with tomato soup) that my mom always made for me when I was little.
But one thing I am really missing is my Mexican food. I’m planning to make chicken enchiladas (if I can find sour cream that is) for an iftar we’re hosting on Sunday, and Lena and I spotted an advertisement with a giant hombre in a sombrero that we think indicates a Mexican restaurant here in Amman. Must try it soon! Hope they don’t douse my chimichanga in olive oil.
But actually, I was talking about food. Food is also on everyone’s mind. And in the spirit of helping others be hungry, here are some of the foody things I’ve noticed about Jordan.
First of all, I’ve already mentioned my diet here consists of about 80 percent labneh, za’atar and pita bread, which I just found out is called khubz. But that doesn’t mean it’s the only thing to eat (it’s the only thing to eat at my house, but that’s another story.).
A couple of days after coming in the country, I had possibly the most popular (or at least the most talked about) dish here: mensef. Mensef is basically spiced rice with almonds and or pine nuts, lamb or chicken and a yogurt sauce. For traditional mensef, which I have not experienced yet, a humongous tray of mensef is served to the guests. The women eat it with a spoon, and the men roll it into balls to eat with their hands. I, however, experienced mensef as our waiter brought it over on a plastic plate. So close. Apparently Heather got to try some mensef cooked by my dear, sweet cousin Melissa when she stayed with her for a couple of days. Lucky girl. Maybe, if I’m good, Melissa will cook for me sometime, too.
Other than mensef, I’ve had all kinds of other traditional Arabic dishes. You already heard about the oh-so-fabulous shwarmas, conveniently located on every street but the one we live on. You can also get all kinds of fresh, delicious hummus (or hommos) with olive oil pretty much everywhere. I’ve had kebabs; a fun dish called fuul, which is mashed beans with garlic in olive oil (it’s fun because who wants to try a dish that can be spelled ful, full, fool or foul respectively?); yogurt given to me in restaurants with olive oil; and olive oil. Did I mention the food is kind of oily here? You can also get any variety of meat or chicken and rice dishes with all kinds of yogurt sauces, spices and olive oil.
Within my first few days, I also got to try the dessert favorite here, kunafa. Kunafa is an exceedingly fattening dish that has a sweet cheese sandwiched in between fried sugar with about a literal ton of ghee (fatty butter) mixed in and melted on top. Very delicious, but fortunately for my daily calorie intake, it appears that I can’t eat more than about two bites of kunafa without spending the entire night in the bathroom, which mostly deters me from indulging too much.
If I’m not inclined to saturate myself with oil that night, I have any number of popular American restaurants I can go to for an oil break and a hint of home. We’ve got all the comforts, such as Papa John’s, Fuddruckers, Applebees, TGIFridays, Bennigans, and, most exciting of all, a new Ruby Tuesday in the City Mall.
We also have experimented with cooking American food in the house. A couple of weeks ago, Heather and I cooked up a rather fabulous dinner of tomato soup (made from scratch, thank you very much. Well, from tomato paste, milk and cream anyway) and grilled cheese sandwiches. Yesterday I also managed to make the ever-so-popular cheesy macaroni (with tomato soup) that my mom always made for me when I was little.
But one thing I am really missing is my Mexican food. I’m planning to make chicken enchiladas (if I can find sour cream that is) for an iftar we’re hosting on Sunday, and Lena and I spotted an advertisement with a giant hombre in a sombrero that we think indicates a Mexican restaurant here in Amman. Must try it soon! Hope they don’t douse my chimichanga in olive oil.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
My Illegal Activity... Lemonade
Today Heather and I went down to our strip of shops to buy some groceries. Outside of the bakery, we saw a couple of guys selling something out of humongous keg-looking coolers. Heather stared at the Arabic labels for a second and figured out we had "Hindi date juice," "lemon juice," "date juice," and "banana milk."
We apparently stared at them for too long because the owner of the stand ran over and asked if we wanted to taste them. We looked at each other. Isn't that illegal? "Are we allowed to?" we asked him. "For you, it's ok," he replied. "For Muslim, no, but you..."
We looked at each other. Okay. The vendor sent his small assistant into the bakery to get what must have been the only tasting cup in the store, as it took him about 15 minutes to come back out with it.
The juice seller poured us some of the "date juice," and handed me the cup. I looked at Heather. She shrugged. I glanced around surreptitiously to see if there was a cop nearby, then I took a small sip.
I felt my teeth decay considerably on the first gulp. Man, these people drinks things sweet. One glass of tea will give you diabetes (Heather's joke, not mine). Then the vendor rustled up two more cups, and we tried the lemon juice and the banana milk, both times glancing around the street like we were getting away with something. Who knew Ramadan would make me feel like an 18 year old sneaking shots of tequila in an alley?
The lemon juice was fantastic. Just like MomMom used to make (except not out of a can). The banana milk (yes, I said banana milk) was weird. It did taste like bananas. And milk. But it wasn't sweet, and it was fairly thick to drink. Hm. Finally I tried the "Hindi date juice" (don't ask me why it was called that; I don't know). It tasted like the "date juice," but with about a hundredth of the sugar content.
We decided to go with the lemon juice.
We apparently stared at them for too long because the owner of the stand ran over and asked if we wanted to taste them. We looked at each other. Isn't that illegal? "Are we allowed to?" we asked him. "For you, it's ok," he replied. "For Muslim, no, but you..."
We looked at each other. Okay. The vendor sent his small assistant into the bakery to get what must have been the only tasting cup in the store, as it took him about 15 minutes to come back out with it.
The juice seller poured us some of the "date juice," and handed me the cup. I looked at Heather. She shrugged. I glanced around surreptitiously to see if there was a cop nearby, then I took a small sip.
I felt my teeth decay considerably on the first gulp. Man, these people drinks things sweet. One glass of tea will give you diabetes (Heather's joke, not mine). Then the vendor rustled up two more cups, and we tried the lemon juice and the banana milk, both times glancing around the street like we were getting away with something. Who knew Ramadan would make me feel like an 18 year old sneaking shots of tequila in an alley?
The lemon juice was fantastic. Just like MomMom used to make (except not out of a can). The banana milk (yes, I said banana milk) was weird. It did taste like bananas. And milk. But it wasn't sweet, and it was fairly thick to drink. Hm. Finally I tried the "Hindi date juice" (don't ask me why it was called that; I don't know). It tasted like the "date juice," but with about a hundredth of the sugar content.
We decided to go with the lemon juice.
Let's Talk Toilets
I’ve seen a lot of strange toilets in my time.
In Europe, especially France, the locals like to play a fun game called “Hide the Handle,” which is also known as “Find the Flusher.” Actually, I just made up those two games. But both titles perfectly describe many trips I took to the loo. Most of the time, the button is located conveniently on top of the toilet tank. Sometimes you push it in; sometimes you pull it out. Just for fun, however, the French occasionally like to put the handle somewhere no one can find it, such as… the floor for example. Behind the toilet perhaps. One time, I spent ten minutes searching for the flush only to give up theatrically, open the bathroom door and hear the flushing behind me.
Japan has possibly the most intricate toilets. My first time with a Japanese toilet was in the Narita airport. I completed what I went in there to do, then spent another five minutes pressing various buttons located on a panel right by my leg. Not only could that toilet flush, it could also spray you in strategic places (at different strengths, mind you), play music and even make a fake flushing sound for some reason.
Neither of our first two hotel rooms had this complex piece of technology, though our second toilet did turn the sink on when you flushed it. I didn’t use that water much; I was a bit suspicious as to where it came from. But our third hotel did boast a toilet that would do everything but light your cigarette for you, as my father used to say.
China, by far, has had the most annoying toilets. Our hotel room toilet was just fine, but roughly every other toilet in the city was what is known as a “trench toilet” or a “squatty potty.” Not super fun for girls to use, especially if you are going to be down there for any length of time. Try using a squatty potty while wearing high heels at a nightclub. Interesting… Also, the Chinese people had seemingly never heard of toilet paper. So I got to carry around loads of tissues in my purse at all times.
Now Jordan has a mix. Most are European-style toilets with fairly easy-to-find flushers (push or pull!). I have seen (and used once) a couple squatty potties, but for the most part I think I left them behind in Asia. Now what I have NOT seen is toilet paper. This wouldn’t be that surprising except that everyone puts tissues EVERYWHERE. Taxi drivers put tissue boxes in taxis. They sit unobtrusively in the corner of every dinner table. But no one thinks to supply wipers for the other end of your body.
The other fun toilet experience I’ve had in Jordan was out in the desert. Now I’m sure everyone who’s gone camping can relate to this. I went to a get-together in Wadi Musa. It was basically a dance floor set up in the middle of the desert. And the bathroom? Wander away from the campsite for a minute, pick a spot and pop a squat. Funny. They didn’t supply toilet paper there either.
In Europe, especially France, the locals like to play a fun game called “Hide the Handle,” which is also known as “Find the Flusher.” Actually, I just made up those two games. But both titles perfectly describe many trips I took to the loo. Most of the time, the button is located conveniently on top of the toilet tank. Sometimes you push it in; sometimes you pull it out. Just for fun, however, the French occasionally like to put the handle somewhere no one can find it, such as… the floor for example. Behind the toilet perhaps. One time, I spent ten minutes searching for the flush only to give up theatrically, open the bathroom door and hear the flushing behind me.
Japan has possibly the most intricate toilets. My first time with a Japanese toilet was in the Narita airport. I completed what I went in there to do, then spent another five minutes pressing various buttons located on a panel right by my leg. Not only could that toilet flush, it could also spray you in strategic places (at different strengths, mind you), play music and even make a fake flushing sound for some reason.
Neither of our first two hotel rooms had this complex piece of technology, though our second toilet did turn the sink on when you flushed it. I didn’t use that water much; I was a bit suspicious as to where it came from. But our third hotel did boast a toilet that would do everything but light your cigarette for you, as my father used to say.
China, by far, has had the most annoying toilets. Our hotel room toilet was just fine, but roughly every other toilet in the city was what is known as a “trench toilet” or a “squatty potty.” Not super fun for girls to use, especially if you are going to be down there for any length of time. Try using a squatty potty while wearing high heels at a nightclub. Interesting… Also, the Chinese people had seemingly never heard of toilet paper. So I got to carry around loads of tissues in my purse at all times.
Now Jordan has a mix. Most are European-style toilets with fairly easy-to-find flushers (push or pull!). I have seen (and used once) a couple squatty potties, but for the most part I think I left them behind in Asia. Now what I have NOT seen is toilet paper. This wouldn’t be that surprising except that everyone puts tissues EVERYWHERE. Taxi drivers put tissue boxes in taxis. They sit unobtrusively in the corner of every dinner table. But no one thinks to supply wipers for the other end of your body.
The other fun toilet experience I’ve had in Jordan was out in the desert. Now I’m sure everyone who’s gone camping can relate to this. I went to a get-together in Wadi Musa. It was basically a dance floor set up in the middle of the desert. And the bathroom? Wander away from the campsite for a minute, pick a spot and pop a squat. Funny. They didn’t supply toilet paper there either.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Living Ramadan Vicariously through Leftovers
As I am not Muslim, I am not actively participating in this cultural celebration. But that doesn't mean I'm not affected. First of all, everyone on the road is just a little bit crankier and in more of a hurry, as they haven't smoked, drank or eaten in several hours. This added to the already fabulous driving done by most taxi drivers is enough to make anyone a little nervous when venturing out. Also, eating or drinking is now illegal in public, so no sneaking sips of water out of my water bottle unless I am safely indoors.
If that weren't weird enough for an American, a good 95 percent of all the restaurants are closed during daylight hours. No forgetting my lunch this month. A few more Western places and many expensive hotel restaurants stay open, but for the most part, it looks like it's leftovers for me. Even more inconvenient, some of the restaurants (like the used-to-be-convenient shwarma place down the block from us) close for the whole of Ramadan.
On the plus side, however, Amman is gorgeous at night. Many residents put up Ramadan lights, which look suspiciously like Christmas lights to me. Some of them are even icicle shaped. Some colored lights in festive shapes, such as moons and stars, do have a personality of their own, however. And the roads are completely empty, so it's much easier to catch a taxi or cross the road, sometimes without even looking. Another plus is that as soon as that minute hand touches the sunset minute, everyone becomes a lot more jolly. Every person I've talked to at night is all kinds of happy, from the jolly cashier in the convenience store who talked to us for a good ten minutes and was tickled pink when we told him, "Ramadan Kareem" to the happy restaurant owner who practically wouldn't let us get in a taxi he was having so much fun talking to us. If this is how fasting makes you feel, I'm all for it.
As Heather mentioned in her Ramadan post, it is also a great time to sample some of the food that only comes around during Ramadan. Two nights ago, Heather and I headed down the street to grab a shwarma for dinner only to find they had closed up shop. Undaunted, we hit the bakery. Instead of the usual bread, deserts, etc, we found pancakes. Thousands upon thousands of pancakes. Score! We grabbed a plate of them, headed home and scarfed them down with syrup. How fresh-off-the-boat of us! We found out after we ate that these pancakes, called getayaf, are supposed to be stuffed with nuts or cheese, then dipped in a sweet sauce and eaten. Ramadan social faux pas number one. Oh well. They were still good as pancakes.
And Heather and I won't totally be devoid of all the Ramadan fun. We told the guys next door that if they picked a day, we would get up at 3:30 a.m. for sahur, fast all day and eat iftar with them at night. For one day. Just to get the total Ramadan experience. Sure hope I don't need to use my inhaler that day.
If that weren't weird enough for an American, a good 95 percent of all the restaurants are closed during daylight hours. No forgetting my lunch this month. A few more Western places and many expensive hotel restaurants stay open, but for the most part, it looks like it's leftovers for me. Even more inconvenient, some of the restaurants (like the used-to-be-convenient shwarma place down the block from us) close for the whole of Ramadan.
On the plus side, however, Amman is gorgeous at night. Many residents put up Ramadan lights, which look suspiciously like Christmas lights to me. Some of them are even icicle shaped. Some colored lights in festive shapes, such as moons and stars, do have a personality of their own, however. And the roads are completely empty, so it's much easier to catch a taxi or cross the road, sometimes without even looking. Another plus is that as soon as that minute hand touches the sunset minute, everyone becomes a lot more jolly. Every person I've talked to at night is all kinds of happy, from the jolly cashier in the convenience store who talked to us for a good ten minutes and was tickled pink when we told him, "Ramadan Kareem" to the happy restaurant owner who practically wouldn't let us get in a taxi he was having so much fun talking to us. If this is how fasting makes you feel, I'm all for it.
As Heather mentioned in her Ramadan post, it is also a great time to sample some of the food that only comes around during Ramadan. Two nights ago, Heather and I headed down the street to grab a shwarma for dinner only to find they had closed up shop. Undaunted, we hit the bakery. Instead of the usual bread, deserts, etc, we found pancakes. Thousands upon thousands of pancakes. Score! We grabbed a plate of them, headed home and scarfed them down with syrup. How fresh-off-the-boat of us! We found out after we ate that these pancakes, called getayaf, are supposed to be stuffed with nuts or cheese, then dipped in a sweet sauce and eaten. Ramadan social faux pas number one. Oh well. They were still good as pancakes.
And Heather and I won't totally be devoid of all the Ramadan fun. We told the guys next door that if they picked a day, we would get up at 3:30 a.m. for sahur, fast all day and eat iftar with them at night. For one day. Just to get the total Ramadan experience. Sure hope I don't need to use my inhaler that day.
You Think You Know Ramadan?
So as we ALL know, Ramadan started on August 22 this year. Well, I know this, and Heather knows this, and pretty much everyone living in the Middle East knows this. But for you people in far off, unreachable lands like the U.S., guess what! Ramadan has started.
Jordan is about 90 percent Muslim, so Ramadan is, of course, a very important part of their religious devotion. However, it also seems to be a way to connect with your country and community as well. For example, even Muslims who are not usually religious will follow Ramadan rules to the letter as a way of showing solidarity with their fellow Jordanians. And even some non-Muslims, such as my roommate Nadia, will jump in on the fun.
Ramadan is not just about giving up food. It's about self-control and is a time of reflection for most Muslims. Most people wake up at about 3:30 in the morning just before the morning prayer. In fact, in some small villages and in some parts of Amman, the communities hire people to yell in the streets when it is time to get up, sort of like a fancy town crier. They eat a small breakfast, called sahur, perform the morning prayer, and go back to sleep. Work is delayed from 8 a.m. until 9 a.m. They also get off work at about 2 p.m. instead of having to work all day. During daylight hours, practitioners must not eat, drink, smoke, take medicine or have sex. Actually, my friend said that men aren't even allowed to exchange greeting kisses-on-the-cheek with women during the day.
You may not drink alcohol at any time during Ramadan, thus all the bars and clubs are closed, as well as all the liquor stores. A woman may not fast if she is on her period, and if you cut yourself or are bleeding, you are not allowed to fast. You must make up this day later on during the year but before the next Ramadan. If you are pregnant, disabled or in some other way not able to fast, you can fulfill the religious requirements by donating food to feed the poor.
Once people finish with work, they apparently drive around like manics buying food and heading home, where they start cooking. Dinnertime varies every night. The first night of Ramadan, practitioners were allowed to begin eating/drinking/smoking at 7:18 p.m. Last night it was 7:10 p.m. It will be slightly earlier each night in Ramadan as the sun begins setting earlier. The time is recorded each day in the newspapers. At sunset, the families usually get together and eat iftar, the meal breaking the fast.
Many Muslims set their watches and light up their cigarettes with a minute to go, ready to take their first puff as the second hand hits the minute mark.
Jordan is about 90 percent Muslim, so Ramadan is, of course, a very important part of their religious devotion. However, it also seems to be a way to connect with your country and community as well. For example, even Muslims who are not usually religious will follow Ramadan rules to the letter as a way of showing solidarity with their fellow Jordanians. And even some non-Muslims, such as my roommate Nadia, will jump in on the fun.
Ramadan is not just about giving up food. It's about self-control and is a time of reflection for most Muslims. Most people wake up at about 3:30 in the morning just before the morning prayer. In fact, in some small villages and in some parts of Amman, the communities hire people to yell in the streets when it is time to get up, sort of like a fancy town crier. They eat a small breakfast, called sahur, perform the morning prayer, and go back to sleep. Work is delayed from 8 a.m. until 9 a.m. They also get off work at about 2 p.m. instead of having to work all day. During daylight hours, practitioners must not eat, drink, smoke, take medicine or have sex. Actually, my friend said that men aren't even allowed to exchange greeting kisses-on-the-cheek with women during the day.
You may not drink alcohol at any time during Ramadan, thus all the bars and clubs are closed, as well as all the liquor stores. A woman may not fast if she is on her period, and if you cut yourself or are bleeding, you are not allowed to fast. You must make up this day later on during the year but before the next Ramadan. If you are pregnant, disabled or in some other way not able to fast, you can fulfill the religious requirements by donating food to feed the poor.
Once people finish with work, they apparently drive around like manics buying food and heading home, where they start cooking. Dinnertime varies every night. The first night of Ramadan, practitioners were allowed to begin eating/drinking/smoking at 7:18 p.m. Last night it was 7:10 p.m. It will be slightly earlier each night in Ramadan as the sun begins setting earlier. The time is recorded each day in the newspapers. At sunset, the families usually get together and eat iftar, the meal breaking the fast.
Many Muslims set their watches and light up their cigarettes with a minute to go, ready to take their first puff as the second hand hits the minute mark.
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