Secret tuna sandwiches.

With Ramadan just two days out of the starting blocks, you can sense a few groans across the country as we all adjust to a new rhythm of life: sleepless, exuberant and relieving evenings; and bunkered-down, squinty-eyed days of fatigue and withdrawals in the afternoon sun.

For me, it means remembering that restaurants and grocery stores are closed during the day, stupid. Yesterday was an unintentional fast until I found a convenience store selling my favorite coconut flavored cookie/crackers sometime around 3pm. Keeping with the custom, I then gorged myself (on a half pound burger and milkshake at a western restaurant—delicious, and half of my disposable income for the month) once Ramadan breakfast came around at 6:20pm with a competing chorus of prayers from every mosque in the city.

Today I found myself sneaking off to a bathroom stall at work where I could munch on a smuggled tuna fish pita sandwich in secret, pausing only once I had scarfed down the first half of my lunch that—to anyone from the outside—this was a completely absurd situation.

For now, smuggled food in my purse is as good as it gets--But the best of Ramadan is still to come. The point is to be out in the streets at night, enjoying the desserts and the food tents and the cultural performances and concerts that will only increase as the month goes on. Tonight, with baklava in each hand, it should indeed be a generous Ramadan.