Me kenaqdarsh nakul akthar

Photos of Chefchaouen are up! Thanks so much to my friends who donated your photos. They're awesome.

Yesterday was the first day of Ramadan and I totally failed at fasting. But I have an excuse! I had two exams yesterday (both two hours long) and I just wasn't going to do them on an empty stomach. I couldn't eat at my home stay so I went to the hotel where some of the students are staying. The restaurant serves lunch for free but only for students who are actually staying at the hotel. So even though I hadn't eaten there in almost two months, I bet on the fact that since I looked like an American student, they wouldn't know the difference. And I was so right (no worries though, I gave a big tip).

The atmosphere during Ramadan is very different than any other time. Shops don't open until the afternoon, and the streets are practically deserted in the morning. People are more lethargic and/or grumpy (it happens when you can't eat, drink, smoke, or have sex all day). I experienced my first Futoor (also called Iftar) which is the meal that breaks the fast at sunset. For the last hour before sunset everyone just hangs around anxiously waiting for food. Then all of a sudden a cannon (midfaa) fires and the azaan sounds outside. In every corner of the Muslim World people dash for the dinner table.

With all of us gathered at the table my host-aunt pronounced bismillah (in the name of God) and we started eating. The order of food is very ritualistic. People break the fast by eating dates and drinking milk, because it's believed that the prophet Mohammad did so in his lifetime. After that you can make your way through the plates of food on the table (hard boiled eggs, pastries stuffed with meat, cake, sweets, beans, vegetables). In the center of the table is a large ceramic dish that holds hareera, a soup that is traditionally served during Ramadan in Morocco. I ate mine American-style with a spoon, but everyone else just sipped from the bowls like cups.

After eating to the point of bursting, everyone moved into the living room to watch a Moroccan comedy show. I understood a little, but not enough to get the jokes. I asked my host-aunt if they eat a meal before sunrise, and she said no, al-Futoor wa khalas. I was relieved, and went to bed a little while later.

But I was woken up in the middle of the night by my host-brother, who knocked on my door and said "It's time to come down to eat." I said I had already eaten and he responded, "Yeah, but now it's dinner time." I groggily asked what time it was and he said 1:30am. "Come down to eat, then you can go back to sleep." Apparently I'm very persuadable at 1:30am because I wandered down with him to the dining room where my family had once again gathered around a plate of beef and vegetables. I ate two bites before I felt sick (I was really really full) but I stayed with them a while to be polite before walking back to my room and collapsing on the bed.

Today I'm fasting for real (well, I'm still drinking water) but it's more difficult today because I just described all the food I'm going to eat tonight and while I sit here in the language center, the women who run the center are cooking in the next room over for tonight's futoor. It smells like hareera and I'm salivating.