Ramadan

Dear Den,

Some reflections on Ramadan:
1) One of our many new friends told us that towards the end of 'dan people start to get rather upset easily, and fights often erupt. It appears on our street, Rue Mohammed El Beqal, this has started already. For a whole fortnight, R.M.E.B. was a peaceful little haven away from the many men-cafes and speeding mopeds of Rue Mohammed V. Last night, however, on day jooj (that's two, in my 2nd language Arabic), a crowd of about seventy men, and one fierce looking pit bull, gathered around a fight blocking of all traffic on our petite rue. In the end, because of the large crowd, we couldn't really see the root of the scuffle, but I promise you Denny, it was intense and amazing that I escaped unscathed. And without the pit-pup in my arms.
2) The naturally sympathetic soeurs we are, we ask all the men-waiters how they are doing with their extreme hunger and thirst. With extreme pain across their faces, every single one so far has said, "No! It's not the thirst. I have not smoked all day." The thirty day ban on smoking has improved my life, however, and I can finally eat without having all of my food taste like nicotine, and the air outside smells only of gasoline and the trash.
3) The streets are now vacant from 6-10 at night. This, my friend, is totally terrifying. Walking on desolate streets in Marrakech does not exactly make one (us) feel at all at ease, particularly when passing the usual group of dudes outside a cafe. Outside our window, at about 11, Rave Ramadan commences, and music fills up R.M.E.B., and all of our neighbors party and feast for about six hours. I think perhaps Jules and I are just a bit bitter that we are not invited to the gigantic block party, but it has cut down our sleeping time from about seven hours to four. Last night I had a really scary dream about Scientology-I blame Ramadan.

I really do love you,
Megan