Thinking of you in England with an empty bottle of baby Moet.
All posts by Ross
The End of Ramadan
Today during theater class we made masks (we’re studying Greek theater).
First, my face is completely covered in Vaseline. Then, cold, wet strips of plaster are layered on top.
Bleah.
My personal Ramadan lasted all of one day.
My mood was terrible for the duration of the fast and I didn’t want to do anything but SLEEP. My only hallucinations were mirages of future meals and feasts.
When at last the sun went down, I flew into the dining hall and ate at light speed, of course feeling nauseated afterwards.
I decided that I like food and, honestly, I feel closer to god when I’m rested and have a slice of bread with Nutella in hand!
This morning I ate breakfast, at lunch I ate, and now I’m happy, lively, and AWAKE.
But how the hell did they come up with such an idea? The best part is that these people live in the desert and expect to not drink for 12 hours?!
This seems more like masochism than devotion.
Let me try some other religion, I really don’t think I’m cut out to be Muslim…
Reviewing.
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Ramadan
Laura, the American who lives in Paraguay, wakes me up to tell me that it’s 4: time to eat.
For several weeks she has been going with one Alamdar, a very good photographer, Afghan.
Ramadan has recently started and Laura, for solidarity with her new love, has decided to keep him company: "I’m not Muslim, but at least this way he has someone with whom NOT to eat!"
Surprised by such a drastic decision, and fascinated by the ritual based on total self-control, I have decided to join them.
So I wake up without hesitation and silently open the closet where the evening before I had put two diet/protein bars kindly offered by my diet-obsessed friend.
We sit on the cold floor of the long, dark hall, our voices rough with sleep and eyes half closed. I chew the pasty substance that tastes like peanut butter while Laura, despite her sleepiness, manages to say silly things like: "Wouldn’t it be great to lock everyone in their rooms?" – although my own sense of humor is perverse, at this hour and in this atmosphere, this idea only creeps me out.
I know I won’t eat anything else for more than 14 hours, but I resist the chocolate cookies dipped in Nutella that my companion in adventures and new experiences is putting away.
For those who don’t know, and according to Laura, Ramadan means not eating from sunrise to sunset for 20 days. During this time you must not let anything pass your lips, in my case I’ve already cheated with chewing gum. Giving up food represents a detachment from earthly things and a total dedication to God. It’s also said that excessive hunger can cause revelatory hallucinations.
I don’t know if I’ll make it for all 20 days and, knowing me, once it gets dark I’ll be ready to eat a monkey from hunger!
But why not try this as well.
At 4:30 I can hear the prayers from the mosque like an echo. It’s strangely comforting to wake up to something different every day. We go on chatting for a little while, fantasizing about how great it would be to go around at night and visit the mosque.
I go back to bed and at 7:30 I’m on my feet, ready to not eat until the sun sets.
Now it’s 11:15 AM.
I’ll keep you posted on any hallucinations!
MomComm: It’s rumored that, during WWII, the very short rations given the students were eked out with monkeys shot by some staff members and boys (everyone male hunted in those days), though they didn’t tell the other students just what they were eating!
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The Junior-Senior Banquet
After weeks of various stresses and preparations, the famous JSB (Junior Senior Banquet) has arrived.
As soon as I woke up, coming out of my room, I saw many of my co-tenants wandering around the halls with their faces green with “vitalizing” masks and their hair wrapped in towels.
The estheticians from our favorite Beauty Parlor showed up at 10 to perfect nails and hairstyles, and remove any superfluous hair from more than 60 girls.
An entire day dedicated to beauty and excessive personal hygiene. But you need a day like that every now and then, especially for a group like us, so far away from our habitual consumerism!
Myself and one Sydney ventured into the kitchen, making cookies as a present for our dates.
Time passes among polishes, brushes, and tongs.
Finally it’s time to put on the dress that that poor tailor had to work so hard on, with all the modifications I asked him to make. The result is good, although I look like something out of a Disney film.
Our knights arrived, washed and ironed. The gray-black of their various jackets and ties contrast with the flowers and chocolates they bring. I walk down the stairs, awaiting the sound of general stupor… without success.
He who was supposed to be my cavalier shows up with a twinkling earring and the Ray Bans I had chosen for him the first day we went out together, and gives his flowers and chocolates to the plump little brown girl next to me, pretending that he doesn’t even see me. (The story of our breakup is complicated.)
My substitute date arrives late, with two sad roses and no chocolate, in fact I end up eating most of the cookies I made for him.
We arrive at school, where everything is decorated in a “Midnight Ball†theme, with stars and moons everywhere. Everything glitters, at a bar the younger students serve us cocktails – completely non-alcoholic. Every few seconds a flash blinds me.
When it becomes clear that my ex is eating his heart out (having seen the results of the dress, makeup, heels, etc.), I decide to make things worse by chatting with him, complimenting him for his sunglasses, and showing him that my nails are varnished in his favorite color. In the end, there’s nothing he can do but return to his date.
The food is extraordinarily good, although I eat fearing I will explode in my TIGHT little dress or, worse, make the dress explode! But everything goes smoothly, and then we’re dancing. Fortunately, my substitute date has a good sense of rhythm and, putting together our creative abilities, we manage to have fun making up any kind of dance.
Something lights up in me and I can’t help smiling with enjoyment when I note that my ex’s substitute date makes it impossible for him to look as good, by refusing to dance with him.
This is the first event anything like a party that I’ve attended in two months, what a strange sensation. The school dance – just like the OC! The girls look like sweets, or like little girls who play at dressing up like princesses. The boys are too tiny/skinny for their pinstriped suits. Everything was extremely ridiculous. I was at a party where adults were present and there was no alcohol available (almost) , and yet – I had fun!
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Junior-Senior Banquet Pictures
MomComm: Whoa! All those bare shoulders! I don’t think we were allowed bare shoulders.