Ramadan

I’m here. Travel from home to Morocco was lengthy, but otherwise smooth. Islam is a pivotal part of Morocco, and with the onset of Ramadan Monday morning, the city has been transformed. Five times a day the city reverberates with the call to prayer. The voices of Muezzins (priests who sing the prayers) echo throughout the city, their melodic chants of “Allah” piercing the humid air. Sundown and the fourth call bring the end of a day long fast. After a feast, everyone walks the streets, packing roads and alleys lined with vendors hawking their wares. People stay out late into the evening, sleeping for only a few hours until sunrise, when they wake up for a pre-dawn feast. And so the cycle begins again, continuing until roughly the end of September.

English is not predominantly spoken here, so my interactions are frequently embarrassing but often hilarious. An inquiry at the reception desk about where the trash can in my hotel led to a tour of a rather pleasant “terrace”, but sadly one without a trash bin. The keyboards for computers in the Internet cafes are different too—the keys are rearranged, and have both French and Arabic on them. They also require one to write from right to left, no easy feat in English.