The end of Ramadan, or How to Drink Water and Feel Like A Crackhead
Today is the last day of Ramadan and all I can say is hallelujah, a sentiment that seems to be shared by the majority of the Jordanians I’ve encountered (although they would probably not use a Jewish word). Here in Amman, observance of the fasting seems to be particularly strict. I’ve heard stories of people being pulled over in their cars when drinking a coffee. Having started work two weeks ago, the hardest part has been not drinking water, especially given my self-diagnosed chronic thirst syndrome. However, the alternative of slurping down a glass of ice cold water, wouldn’t exactly cultivate goodwill among my colleagues, who haven’t had anything since 5 am. Luckily, working hours are reduced to 9 am – 2pm, with the good folks at the Embassy proudly showing off the the American work ethic with a mind-boggling 3 hour workday. Nevertheless, productivity losses are in the hundreds of millions of dollars
In any event, my (least) favorite Ramadan, occurred shortly after I arrived. Amman was experiencing some unusually warm weather, with temperatures reaching 100 degrees plus during the day, creating ideal conditions for walking around the city to hunt for an apartment. After a particularly frustrating afternoon, in which I climbed three small mountains to look at two apartments that were just blah enough to not rent, yet not dumpy enough to turn down, my throat felt like sandpaper. Although its haram, or forbidden, to fast if you put yourself in danger of dehydration, I don’t think the people around me on the street would have truly appreciated the severity of my thirst were I to start chugging. So I popped into a deli, bought a water, plopped it into one of the ubiquitous plastic bags, and wrapped my sinful package in a newspaper. I quickly exited in search of a dark corner, knowing the delights that awaited me in my hand. Two blocks later, I was huddled at the end of an alley, furtively checking behind me as I took long pulls off Ghadeer brand, pure, natural mineral water. Hopefully, it is the closest I will ever come to feeling like a crackhead.
Click here, for a warmer and fuzzier take on the expat ramadan experience.
