March 1st this year marked the beginning of a truly extraordinary time here in Türkiye—the holy month of Ramazan. Although the month of fasting and the joyous celebration of Bayram that followed have now passed, I couldn’t let more time slip by without sharing this profoundly beautiful experience with you all. Having now been fortunate enough to witness this sacred period for my second time, I find myself even more captivated by its spiritual depth and community spirit than before. The rhythms of fasting, reflection, and celebration have left such an impression on me that I’m already looking forward to next year’s observance. I am excited to tell you more about this beautiful aspect of Turkish and Islamic culture. 

Before diving into the Bayram festivities that mark the end of the holy month, let me take you through Ramazan itself – an experience that transformed my understanding of both Turkish culture and spiritual mindfulness.

As Ramazan approached, I started hearing “Ramazan Mübarek” (or “Ramadan Mubarak” in Arabic) everywhere – from shopkeepers, classmates, even bus drivers. This beautiful greeting, which translates to “Blessed Ramadan,” isn’t just a casual hello; it’s a heartfelt wish for a spiritually fulfilling month. The phrase acknowledges the sacred nature of the coming days and establishes an immediate sense of shared experience, even among strangers. I quickly learned to respond with “Size de mübarek olsun” (“May it be blessed for you too”), creating small moments of connection throughout my day.

Ramazan is the ninth month of the Islamic calendar when Muslims fast from dawn until sunset. And when I say fast, I mean NOTHING passes their lips during daylight – no food, no water, no coffee (gasp!). The practice dates back to the 7th century when, according to Islamic belief, the Quran was first revealed to Prophet Muhammad.

What touched me most was learning how Ramazan embodies many of the mindfulness principles I try to practice daily. The intentional pause before eating, the gratitude for sustenance, the awareness of those less fortunate – it’s mindfulness in action on a community scale.

The daily breaking of the fast, known as İftar, quickly became my favorite Ramazan tradition. There’s something profoundly moving about an entire nation waiting for the exact moment of sunset, poised with dates, olives, or water in hand, ready to end their day-long fast in unison.

During the month, I had the privilege of enjoying İftar with my friends from the Couch Surfing group here in Ankara. As an international student with no family nearby, our weekly Thursday evening picnics in Kurtuluş Park became my window into the true spirit of Ramazan.