Laura’s abroad in Amman, Jordan, until Dec. 19.

Ramadan was exciting for the first week because it has all the festivity of Christmas in the U.S. Colored lights — mostly in the shape of the Muslim moon and star — hang in all the windows, strangers greet each other with “Ramadan Kareem!” and the kitchen is a constant whirlwind of activity. Families travel in packs to relatives’ homes and devour heaping piles of meat and rice. I love watching the minutes leading up to the “iftar,” or “break fast.” Some days, everyone is silently poised over heaping piles of food on their plates, checking their watches. We keep the back door open and listen to the call from the mosque to signal that it’s time to eat. Other days, my family members are still scurrying about the kitchen when the call rings out, frantically finding dishes and extra plates of dates.

Famished after 15 or so hours of fasting, my family members usually go straight for liquids, then begin eating all sorts of food. Platters of bread, cucumber salad, lamb, dates, rice, chicken and hummus are ravaged, but I’ve never seen any platter actually emptied. At one dinner, an entire lamb (minus the head), was pulled from the oven and plopped onto a giant platter on the table. My host mother and another woman expertly pulled its flesh apart and gave a handful of juicy, dripping meat to every extended plate. I was completely shocked as they dismembered this animal in front of me, scraping the skin and pulling at its rib cage. I admit that for a minute or two I really just wanted to throw up, but the sensation passed and I ate the mass of meat on my plate. Despite my initial reaction, it was quite delicious.

Within minutes of the start of iftar, we are usually full and sit back in our chairs for a well-deserved cigarette or hookah. Then, the lavish desserts are presented during big family parties. It seems that from the iftars I’ve attended, Jordanians (or Palestinians, as some prefer to be called), have an insatiable sweet tooth. My favorite is kataief, which essentially are small pancakes filled with nuts, cream, and cinnamon, and then soaked in sugar water. There are also plates of cheese and cream pastries, and of course, chocolate. The sweets (or perhaps the meat?) have a habit of waking me up in the middle of the night with a horrible stomachache that lasts well into the next morning. Serves me right for indulging in my own sweet tooth. But it’s so hard to refuse freshly-made kataief. My host mother is an amazing cook and I find it difficult to turn down anything she offers me. I’m glad I packed Pepto Bismol.

Although the family parties are really fun, I must say living in Jordan during Ramadan is difficult. First of all, you can’t drink, eat or smoke in public during the day. This means that taking a walk or going for a day trip to explore a new town is very difficult because it’s hard to find somewhere to eat and drink. When I was exploring the Roman ruins in the city of Jerash this weekend, I brought along a water bottle to survive three or four hours out in 110 degree heat, but a man yelled at me in the street because he saw my bottle sticking out of the top of my purse. Working hours and school hours are shortened during Ramadan so people can sleep off the remaining afternoon hours until the iftar around 7 p.m. Almost all restaurants are closed during our lunch break at school, so the other students and I forage for food at the corner grocery store and surreptitiously eat our pita sandwiches in the walled-in garden behind our school building. It’s also difficult just to find somewhere open to chill and do homework after school gets out around 4 p.m. It’s frustrating because our program directors encourage us to go into the downtown after school and sit in cafes and talk to people in Arabic, but it’s nearly impossible during Ramadan. Finding a taxi in the hour before and after iftar is also difficult.

Also, most fasting Muslims I’ve encountered just seem incredibly exhausted or irritable in the afternoon (which I’m sure I would be too if I was dehydrated like they are). One day I tried fasting, and succeeded in foregoing food until dinner, but I felt like I was about to pass out in class with no water, so I drank. A lot. Overall, fasting for a month in this heat just seems so unhealthy, but I have a deep respect for those who can do it. I’ve also noticed that fasting Muslims seem to have a survival strategy. They minimize daytime activity as much as possible during Ramadan – there are no extra trips to the shopping mall or downtown during the day. They sleep as much as they can during the day, and then stay up eating and drinking at night. One host brother stayed up until 8 a.m. over the weekend, and then slept until 5 p.m. or so in the evening. I haven’t adopted this nocturnal schedule, yet. I’m usually awake into the early morning hours because of all the activity in the house, but then I get up around 7 a.m. for class. I also can’t really sleep in the afternoon, so I must say I’m getting really, really tired. I’m looking forward to the end of Ramadan, but I’ll be sad when the festive family dinners are over.

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