First and foremost, I have to say that I think I've started my first Ramadan off on the right foot. I say this because it's 2:30pm and I woke up half an hour ago. This means that I can fast today (minus the water part, which scares me) and I only have 4.5 hours to go until iftar, the fast-breaking meal. Second, it means that I stayed out all last night exploring the city in true Ramadan style. I did not fast yesterday, but rather ate two eggs and peanut butter around 11 and then held out until iftar so that I could enjoy a massive meal. I decided to host an iftar at my own apartment for all the CASAwiyyin who were not invited to break their "fast" at an Egyptian home. Ultimately, more than fifteen people showed up to this potluck affair, bearing bowls of potatoes, green beans, beef, brownies, banana whips, and some traditional chicken and bulgur concoction. Personally, I cooked rice with dried apricots (mishmisheyya, one of my favorite words), prunes, almonds, raisins, onions, and cardamom. Surprisingly, it came out well. I did, however, have to drop 90 LE ($15) on my dried fruits at the special Ramadan dried fruit stand set up outside my supermarket, Seoudi. Dried fruits are sort of special to Ramadan, and come at a dear price.
My little trip to the grocery store was my only time venturing outside during the daylight hours, when the streets are virtually empty. In the blink of an eye, everyone has switched to a Ramadan schedule which means as little activity as possible while fasting. The grocery store is packed during the day, but closes about two hours before maghrib, the dusk prayer, when people are allowed to break their fast. I set up my fanous in my living room, and it projected crescent shadows all over the ceiling. We were quickly getting into the holiday spirit. Through the wall of sliding glass windows in the living room, we observed the Seoudi employees sitting in a circle in the grass of the Medan and eagerly breaking their fast. We couldn't really tell if the sun had set, so we made this our cue to dig in to our own feast. We gorged ourselves on good food and good conversation for a few hours before deciding we would try to stay out the whole night until sohour, the last meal eaten before sunrise. In fact, it is eaten at fajr, the prayer time that means dawn but actually occurs about an hour and a half before sunrise. We're still looking for someone to explain that to us.
I headed out from Medan Mesaha with about eight friends, first by metro to the Borsa around 10pm. The whole neighborhood was teeming with people, and the cafes glittered with what we would call Christmas lights. In some places, restaurants or rich individuals set up tents, also lined with neon lights, to welcome people for iftar or sohour. We wedged ourselves in at an outdoor table belonging to a cafe called either "Revolution of Jan 25" or "Friends", or both. Behind us was a big mural of martyrs of the revolution with the English caption "The People Demand the Removal of the Regime." We passed several hours there with a cherry shisha and a game of backgammon (which, no, I still don't know how to play), listening to the occasional bursts of firecrackers and the delighted shouts of crowds of young men to their buddies. We then decided, sometime around midnight, to walk from Borsa, near Talaat Harb, to the Corniche. The Nile was bathed in a neon glow reflected from the restaurant and nightclub boats anchored along its banks. Men, women, children, juice sellers, horse-drawn carriages, and felucca fixers filled the downtown streets usually reserved for cars and young guys by this hour of the night. We strolled along the Corniche, negotiating for a felucca of our own. Some are enormous and can fit groups of fifty or so, while others are designed for private hiring by couples or families. We wanted one of our own -- a boat with Allahu Akbar written in green neon lights above its bow, which was graced by a campy pair of blue neon dolphins. For an hour, we motored slowly between the 6th of October Bridge and the southern tip of Zamalek, hosting our own wild dance party to a mix of Egyptian shaaby tunes, Bollywood hits, and "Call Me Maybe" -- much to the amusement of our captain, a 20-something guy in a hot pink t-shirt, and the passengers of every other boat cruising the Nile.
By the time we returned to port around 2am, we figured it was time to scope out a place to have our sohour. But every taxi was full. When none would take us to El Hussein, the area near Khan el Khalili said to be the best (and most crowded place) to do Ramadan, we headed back to Dokki to sohour at a little place famous for its ful. It was 3am by the time we feasted at a plastic table outside this buzzing place on the otherwise nearly deserted Mossadek St. We ordered bowls of ful shakshouka (beans mixed with eggs), ful iskandrani (beans with tomatoes and onions), baba ghanoush, fried cheese (the best), and falafel. Suddenly, around 3:15, the waiters scampered to clear the tables and stack the chairs. The other customers evaporated into thin air as we paid our bill. At 3:27, the call to prayer sounded from the mosque around the corner. One of the waiters tried frantically to down a Fanta, but his colleague grabbed it playfully from his hand -- "Matishrabsh!" he told him, "Don't drink!" It was too late. We began the walk home through the quiet streets, now that people had gone to pray or sleep. Nearing Medan Mesaha, we passed a small, open mosque with bright lights packed with older men prostrated in prayer, some spilling out onto the sidewalk. At five, I finally crept into bed.
My little trip to the grocery store was my only time venturing outside during the daylight hours, when the streets are virtually empty. In the blink of an eye, everyone has switched to a Ramadan schedule which means as little activity as possible while fasting. The grocery store is packed during the day, but closes about two hours before maghrib, the dusk prayer, when people are allowed to break their fast. I set up my fanous in my living room, and it projected crescent shadows all over the ceiling. We were quickly getting into the holiday spirit. Through the wall of sliding glass windows in the living room, we observed the Seoudi employees sitting in a circle in the grass of the Medan and eagerly breaking their fast. We couldn't really tell if the sun had set, so we made this our cue to dig in to our own feast. We gorged ourselves on good food and good conversation for a few hours before deciding we would try to stay out the whole night until sohour, the last meal eaten before sunrise. In fact, it is eaten at fajr, the prayer time that means dawn but actually occurs about an hour and a half before sunrise. We're still looking for someone to explain that to us.
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| Good friends and good food: awaiting iftar in my living room |
I headed out from Medan Mesaha with about eight friends, first by metro to the Borsa around 10pm. The whole neighborhood was teeming with people, and the cafes glittered with what we would call Christmas lights. In some places, restaurants or rich individuals set up tents, also lined with neon lights, to welcome people for iftar or sohour. We wedged ourselves in at an outdoor table belonging to a cafe called either "Revolution of Jan 25" or "Friends", or both. Behind us was a big mural of martyrs of the revolution with the English caption "The People Demand the Removal of the Regime." We passed several hours there with a cherry shisha and a game of backgammon (which, no, I still don't know how to play), listening to the occasional bursts of firecrackers and the delighted shouts of crowds of young men to their buddies. We then decided, sometime around midnight, to walk from Borsa, near Talaat Harb, to the Corniche. The Nile was bathed in a neon glow reflected from the restaurant and nightclub boats anchored along its banks. Men, women, children, juice sellers, horse-drawn carriages, and felucca fixers filled the downtown streets usually reserved for cars and young guys by this hour of the night. We strolled along the Corniche, negotiating for a felucca of our own. Some are enormous and can fit groups of fifty or so, while others are designed for private hiring by couples or families. We wanted one of our own -- a boat with Allahu Akbar written in green neon lights above its bow, which was graced by a campy pair of blue neon dolphins. For an hour, we motored slowly between the 6th of October Bridge and the southern tip of Zamalek, hosting our own wild dance party to a mix of Egyptian shaaby tunes, Bollywood hits, and "Call Me Maybe" -- much to the amusement of our captain, a 20-something guy in a hot pink t-shirt, and the passengers of every other boat cruising the Nile.
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| Aboard our Ramadan felucca |
By the time we returned to port around 2am, we figured it was time to scope out a place to have our sohour. But every taxi was full. When none would take us to El Hussein, the area near Khan el Khalili said to be the best (and most crowded place) to do Ramadan, we headed back to Dokki to sohour at a little place famous for its ful. It was 3am by the time we feasted at a plastic table outside this buzzing place on the otherwise nearly deserted Mossadek St. We ordered bowls of ful shakshouka (beans mixed with eggs), ful iskandrani (beans with tomatoes and onions), baba ghanoush, fried cheese (the best), and falafel. Suddenly, around 3:15, the waiters scampered to clear the tables and stack the chairs. The other customers evaporated into thin air as we paid our bill. At 3:27, the call to prayer sounded from the mosque around the corner. One of the waiters tried frantically to down a Fanta, but his colleague grabbed it playfully from his hand -- "Matishrabsh!" he told him, "Don't drink!" It was too late. We began the walk home through the quiet streets, now that people had gone to pray or sleep. Nearing Medan Mesaha, we passed a small, open mosque with bright lights packed with older men prostrated in prayer, some spilling out onto the sidewalk. At five, I finally crept into bed.
your living room (and fanous) look gorgeous! i loved reading about this adventure (especially the call me maybe part). your life sounds so exotic and wonderful!
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