Ramazan

September is upon us, and with it comes cooler weather and the holy month of Ramadan (aka Ramazan in Turkish - go here to read an excellent summary of Ramazan in Turkey). I had only previously had contact with Ramadan from friends and students in the United States, where it was honestly more of a novelty to me. Now it is everywhere, in all five senses, all happening at once.

For a religious time of self-examination, manifested most obviously by fasting throughout the day, Ramazan does not seem to mesh well with capitalism or a megatropolis of +/- 10 million. I cannot imagine fasting at all (you know what I am like when I have not been fed), let alone fasting while trying to cope with the frenetic insanity of Istanbul. Perhaps the village is one thing - perhaps people really do have the time and energy to put their mortality into perspective - but here, to this total outsider, it seems almost impossible. On the other hand, we outsiders have noted the iftar (breaking fast) tents set up around the city with a bit of envy. It all seems worthwhile when you can share a meal with people after a long, frustrating day.

This day begins with someone walking through the streets with a drum so that people can feed themselves before sunrise (as in, really effing early). I had previously thought that those of us in Cihangir would be exempt from such drumming because there are so many expats here. Ha! Surprise! Further examination, this morning for example, proves this theory incorrect. After the drumming there is the call to prayer around 5:00. We had already mostly accustomed ourselves to the call to prayer, barely noticing it at this point even though there is practically a minaret in the window. Ramazan, however, is completely different - the calls to prayer go on for more than five minutes and are especially elaborate and loud. But, so it goes.

Though there are certainly plenty of people, especially in my neighborhood, who do not take part in Ramazan, the cafes do seem noticeably emptier than usual. "Man bars," my name for places where men go to escape their wives, still have men in them, but most are without their ubiquitous tea and cigarettes. I have seen women at the grocery buying piles of food (which must be hard when you're fasting all day), and there really is a rush for the nearest restaurant at 7:30 when mosques throughout the city signal that the sun has officially set.

I haven't yet shared an iftar meal with anyone and I doubt I will, but I have a month to get it to happen so we'll see. In the meantime I will make more observations from afar.

Speaking of meals, in my next post, by popular demand, I will describe two unforgettable dinners.