NB. I wrote this post in 2019, which was my first time fasting Ramadan, and updated it in 2020, after my second time fasting Ramadan. I am now a seasoned pro. (Not.) I still have so much to learn. We all do. Ask me on April 11th how its going now.
Clock. Topkapi Palace, Istanbul.
My partner is Muslim heritage and since we had a child, has focused more and more on his faith and the practice of Islam. Fasting for Ramadan is an important part of this. For a few years now I had seen him struggle to fast alone, and I knew how important it was to him, so I decided to do it with him. For the past two years we have been staying in Istanbul for Ramadan and we have fasted together. I was curious; I wanted to offer moral support; but also I became aware that you need to change your daily rhythms to succeed, and this is best done as a family.
The rules of Ramadan are that you fast during the day between sunrise and sunset for thirty days. Fasting means nothing shall pass your lips, be it food, drink, cigarettes, gum, toothpaste, during daylight hours. You are also supposed to abstain from sexual relations and try to be as pure as possible in your thoughts and actions. Ultimately, by stripping you, Ramadan is a time for reflection and connection: spiritually, but also tuning in to your relationships with others.
The tradition is to eat a large breakfast (‘Suhour’) before sunrise (at this time in Istanbul this meant before 4am) and then ‘Iftar’ supper came at around 8.30pm, after sunset. We stocked the fridge and freezer with food and prepared some meals the week before, anticipating that it would be hard to shop and cook when you are hungry and feeling weak. We expected to be desperately hungry and tired all the time, and we planned to nap a lot and put off as many commitments as we could. We carried out research and consulted my father-in-law for recommendations on what to eat and when, in order to gain slow release energy during the day, and so you don’t get indigestion when sleeping. Last year we were fortunate, as we were not working at the time. The following year we faced Ramadan in partial lockdown, with remote working to do online, and no childcare. At least we had had a previous practice run…
Here is what it was like:
Physically, tiredness was the hardest thing. When going to bed late; getting up in the night to cook and eat; and then getting up early in the morning with a young child, the tiredness feels a bit like the relentlessly broken-sleep in the early days of having a newborn baby. Without being able to lean on coffee. The following year, under lockdown, I found ways to doze in the morning while my son watched children’s TV and to nap in the afternoon while he played in his room. Last year I took him to nursery and went back to sleep. I am not sure how I would fare if I had to go to work all day and napping was not an option. My hat goes off to those who do.
I woke every morning with a dry mouth. Initially it was unbearable, mainly because I thought it would last all day, but I soon realised it does not last, and everyday, within about half an hour, my mouth felt quite normal. And as long as I didn’t exert too much energy, thirst was kept at bay. I was surprised at how mild thirst goes away if you ignore it. We were fortunate that the weather was not so hot and I did not have a physical job to do.
Interestingly, hunger was the least of my worries. I was surprised how (ensuring I ate lots of protein at suhour) I did not suffer too much from hunger. I was surprised, again, that if I ignored hunger (or did not feed it) it kind of went away. Well it didn’t so much go away, but it didn’t get worse. It was a kind of nagging feeling (the ‘I really should eat something’ feeling), but if you got on with something else, it faded or took a back seat. As days passed, however, hunger seemed to be cumulative and I started to feel empty. More empty. Until it was really quite hard to ignore by sunset.
My partner and I were both quite irritable and short tempered during the day, especially by 8pm in the evening, where an argument would often blow up, and so we tended to stay out of each other’s way. While reflection was definitely on the cards, connection was much harder, and this tended to happen when we came together in the evening after we had broken our fast and could relax a bit more.
Here is what I learnt:
Fasting for Ramadan made me so grateful for simple pleasures. What I craved the most, all day, was a glass of water and some fresh fruit. And then when I ate and drank those things, I was satiated. I became tuned in to the simple pleasures.
I became aware of every morsel of my son’s food that he rejected and I threw away during the day. I looked at it longingly. This made me more grateful for the food we have, and more aware of the waste we create, and it made me aware that I give too much choice and leniency to my son’s eating habits. Basically I became acutely aware of our abundance and excesses, and the ways in which he was subconsciously learning this way of being.
I found I was starkly aware of my addictions. I did not really drink alcohol much any more, and I’d given up smoking, so these obvious addictions were not a problem, but what I refer to are other, more banal, addictions: mine are caffeine, in the form of coffee and Coca Cola; and sugar in the form of sweets and chocolate. During Ramadan, coffee just disappeared out my life because it had no function (I didn’t want one by 9pm at night and I certainly didn’t want one at 4am). Snacks took a back seat as I was so overjoyed by fruit salad. Ramadan helped me to recognise these dependencies: stare them in the face and make choices to change these behaviours.
I was acutely aware of how eating and meals structure your day. When they are missing you feel real loss, regardless of whether you are hungry or thirsty. Mornings are incredibly strange with no coffee, no breakfast and not even a glass of water. In the beginning, as I sat on the bus on the way home from taking my son to nursery school, I felt the emptiness enter as I realised I didn’t have anything particular planned that day. Not only did I have nothing planned, but I was not going to get in and have a cup of tea; I was not going to make myself and my partner breakfast; I was not going to pop out for lunch; I was not going to have my mid-afternoon coffee. It was very strange. It made me panic a little, deep down: ‘I am just going to have nothing all day.’ I thought. ‘That’s it. A long nothing. Just nothing’. I was beginning to wish I had to go to work. At least then, there would be some structure to the day. This then made me aware of the arbitrariness of the routine of work. In the beginning I slept a lot to deal with the emptyness, I think. But perpetually sleeping didn’t really help my mood, because it felt like Groundhog Day: every time I woke it was the same: dry mouth and hunger.
Gradually, the absence of these taken-for-granted routines, of eating and meals, felt quite meditative. I observed the emptiness. I felt safe in the knowledge that thousands of other people out there were doing the same and feeling the same. And that it would be ok.
I was conscious of how my down-mood might be felt by my son who didn’t really understand or notice that mummy and daddy weren’t eating, so I did my best to be brave and in lifted-spirits with him. I felt hyper-aware in this state. Not in a way that felt like I was faking my good spirits, but, strangely, just being aware of my mood, and how it might affect others, improved my mood. I was aware of my mood and producing my mood, rather than it being just something that happens to me. I guess this gave me a glimpse of what it means to be in the moment. Something that I am usually not at all good at.
When we went out and interacted with others on the bus, on the street, in the shops, my partner and I talked about how it felt like you could tell who else was fasting as well (and who was not): there was a slowness; a consideredness; a meditativeness about those fasting. I can imagine that if you are embedded in an extended family or community, who are all fasting, it can feel quite meditative, communally, and create a real togetherness. We didn’t really have this opportunity last year, as, although we enjoyed visiting my partner’s father regularly, we tended to keep to ourselves. The following year, Ramadan has taken place in lockdown due to the pandemic, so the communal aspects of Ramadan have been woefully absent this year, for everyone in Turkiye. I decided my way through this was to keep busy. Not hectic, but productive. That first day of emptiness, I made lists, planned out meals and hoovered the whole flat, having a nap in the afternoon. This time round, with my son at home all day, I clung to a strict routine for my son’s day so I could hang my routine off that. On reflection, however, I think keeping busy is a distraction tactic. And the aim of Ramadan is to use the time to be more introspective, reflective and, well, spiritual. It must be amazing for those who are able to achieve this.
Here is where I am going with all this:
You’ll notice I have not centred the article on the (now-trendy) health benefits of ‘intermittent fasting,’ because I think that is a bit of a distraction too. I am not trying to sell it to you, this isn’t a marketing exercise. There is no doubt that some kind of fasting routine is good for us physically, particularly in relation to improving our immune system. My partner describes it as an annual ‘reset’ for the body, which, through fasting during the day, is turned upside down, and then righted again, like an hour glass. You can read lots about the health benefits elsewhere.
But the experience taught me is that Ramadan is an annual reset, mentally, too. And, it is this on a societal level. The problems of abundance, excess and addiction, which are all interrelated, and are all abhorrent features of contemporary capitalism, are kept in check by Ramadan. This came across as the most important function, to me. Through the stripping away of daily routines of consumption, you are forced to observe the ways in which you might have more than you need. You are forced to be aware of ways you might have been behaving excessively; the things you absentmindedly possess in abundance; hoarding habits; addictive patterns of behaviour; everyday dependencies; what you are failing to share; whether it is about food, financially, or simply about accumulated ‘stuff’. It is no accident that Ramadan is also the time that you give to charity, and focus your efforts on helping others. The exercise of extreme discipline and self -control that fasting during Ramadan requires, is increasingly lacking in contemporary western society, where immediate gratification reigns supreme. Relationship to food are characterised by constant grazing on snacks; relationships to knowledge characterised by instant access to information; and relationships to entertainment characterised by every programme or series ever made, more or less, at our fingertips. It is a wonder we have any patience or self-control left. In western capitalist societies, the middle-classes at least, have too much in abundance and this largely remains unchecked year on year, as traditional Christian, pagan or historical festivals -Christmas, Easter, Thanks Giving for example – have simply been hi-jacked for commercial gain, and centre around buying, eating, drinking, and consuming yet more. Indeed, Ramadan is not immune to these forces either, as supermarkets and other retail outfits seize the opportunity to market goods to the Muslim consumer and make more money during this time. During Ramadan, those who have, can simply feast and gorge during the evening, after sunset. However it’s much harder to ignore/bury/misinterpret the message of Ramadan, if you truly adhere to its requirements, which, let’s face it, are pretty hardcore. This is definitely a festival that demands a great deal from you. And it is this experience – of sacrifice – that encourages the reflection, change and growth that is so beneficial, on so many levels.
This blog post is dedicated to the people of Gaza who are imprisoned there, and are being starved to death this Ramadan. Free Palestine.
Having spent nearly two years in and out of living in a van, with a hyperactive child, aged two to four years old, I learnt the hard way what was needed on the trip; what was missing; what was superfluous; what worked and what didn’t work in terms of organising the space and so on. If you are planning to live in a van; build a campervan; or go on an extended trip WITH YOUNG KIDS, I have some tips that will hopefully make your life easier, or help with building or packing. These recommendations are for summer living, but I can make recommendations for winter too if you are interested, just let me know. And this list mainly revolves around making life easier with the kids, rather than being a list of mechanical and caravanning essentials. That is another list for someone else. That I ignore.
So, 30 essentials I would recommend:
1.Easy-to-erect awning for essential shade.
Shading in Zagora, Morocco.
When it gets really hot, van dwellers search for shade like a drug. If you can carry some with you, it definitely makes summers more pleasant, and keeps the kids out of the sun.
2.One of those plastic weave rugs you can throw out the door and the kids can play on.
Play Doh. Halkidiki, Greece.
Most people take a fold-up table and chairs when they go camping, but young kids want to play on the floor. Having a carpet means you can keep them cleaner, at least some of the time. Our rule was that ‘indoor toys’ were allowed to go outdoors if played with on the carpet. It seemed essential to have a separation of indoor and outdoor toys because access to water to clean the toys is not always easy, and dirty or sandy toys hanging around in a small space is horrid. Outdoor toys belonged in the car ‘boot’ and indoor toys stayed clean on the carpet and were packed away under the sofa after. Yes, that was the idea anyway.
3.Floor space inside.
Trying to play in a campervan with no floor space.
If you are building your own campervan or adapting one you have, and you have young kids, I can definitely recommend trying to plan some empty floor space (or a platform of sorts) where they can play inside also. We used to have a seated table area and a sofa area, and almost zero floor space, but we took out the seating area and made about 1.5m square empty area which could be multifunctional. My son could play on the floor, especially useful if its raining outside (or you want to contain the kids inside because they are causing trouble outside- a frequent occurrence for us). We could also erect a fold-up table there and sit at the sofa and eat, or one of us could lay on a mat and nap there in the breeze.
4.Duplo.
Duplo dreams.
Our son is four and getting into Lego now but Duplo is a much better bet in a van, despite being larger pieces to store. Lego is much too small and bitty for van life. And heaven-forbid it finds its way outside. Duplo is easy to find, easy to pack away and easy to clean.
5.Toy Cars.
Building empires, Çanakkale, Turkey.
Our son’s favourite most-used toys at the moment are his toy cars and transporter for which we often construct makeshift ramps around the camp.
6.Bucket, spade and dump truck.
Digging. Cappadocia.
We have spent a good few months where, as soon as we parked the van our son would be out of his seat and out of the van, digging in the sand/ dirt/ gravel/ mud with his beach toys, happy as Larry. Apart from some sticker books, most of the other toys I brought with us were superfluous. Jigsaws, puzzles, activity books, board games, colouring books, have all failed to interest. (I thought magnetic alphabet was a great idea because we could stick them on the van, but then my son scratched the paint-work with them and they were banned). In the house we do puzzles and board games all the time, but when the outdoors is available, more active-outdoorsy-play seems to capture.
7.Kids books and audio books.
Reading.
I’ve brought about ten books (story books and learn to read books) and we regularly ditch books and grandmas send more, because we cannot find English language books on route. About ten is more than enough to cycle. Audiobooks are obviously an amazing idea: we are only just discovering them and my son is not taking to them yet.
8.Octopus clothes dryer
Daily clothes drying. Datça peninsula, Turkey.
This is really useful to hang the swimming clothes on daily, or to hang the kids clothes on that you are hand-washing daily, when access to a washing machine is scarce. We carry line and pegs too but this little contraption has been so handy because we can hang it on the wing mirror of the van as soon as we are parked, or the hook in the bathroom when we are driving, and the clothes dry in no time.
9.Garden trug.
I wish campsite showers were this nıce.
The trug has multiple functions as kids bath, paddling pool, washing up and laundry bowl. It can also act as ‘random stuff storage tidy’ when you’re traveling.
10.Large, high-sided bowls for feeding the kids.
There isn’t a lot of space in a camper van to make a mess. And spilled food can get forever stuck in crevices. Meal times are actually quite stressful. High-sided but sturdy-bottomed dishes (like a dog bowl) meant less spilled on the seat, or floor, or the furnishings. It also means you can do soupy dinner or dry dinner using the same item. Less stuff to carry.
11.Organic sugar-free peanut butter and vegan chocolate spread.
These two foodstuffs ended up as a staple on our trip, and when we found it, we stocked up. Even if the fridge was broken, or empty, or switched off, when our son cried out ‘I’m hungry now!’ I could climb into the back of the van and make a sandwich and stretch the journey time out some more, without it involving a sugar-high of sweets and biscuits from a petrol station.
12.Swimming/ beach shoes.
Much needed beach shoes. Saklikent Gorge, Turkey.
We spend a lot of time on rocky beaches or hiking through canyons, so water shoes are essential.
13.Swimming T shirts.
Not getting burnt. Akchour Falls, Morocco.
I do not really like suncream and nor does my son. A much better alternative is to cover up. My son has spent every summer in the water wearing a lycra swimming top and consequently has no sunburn at all.
14.Cigarette lighter extension cable.
Despite building our camper van ourselves and choosing where the plug sockets are placed, we still find occasion where we need a socket in a different place or an appliance in a different place (e.g. the navigator or the fan). Our 2m one has been really useful and its not something you can find on route.
15.English plug adapter.
Our campervan has several UK 240v sockets which we use almost exclusively to change our laptops, which are UK lap tops, with UK plugs. But when your laptop charging cable breaks in Spain and you have to buy a replacement that has a Spanish plug, do you think you can find a EU to UK adapter in Spain? No.
16.Velcro.
This is useful to fix things or attach things to other things. For example we have used it to attach the curtains to the wall, so they don’t flap around when driving, to fix up mosquito net semi-successfully. (Gaffa or Gorilla tape is also essential).
17.Rubber at various thickness.
We spent a year carrying boxes of tools and spares that we never used, and the most useful thing in it, by far, was this. Basically you can use it as a packer. And it’s flexible and waterproof. We found our toilet was fitted too low and kept pinging off the wall-mounting. We fixed it on route by using 5mm rubber sheet cut into strips as a packer to raise it off the ground. And we put locks on the cupboard doors, using 2mm rubber as a discreet packer. Very useful.
18.Fuses.
I’m now verging into mechanical and caravanning territory but I do know we have blown and changed various fuses on route, and the type of fuses for our solar system baffle any electrician we have come across outside of Europe. You cannot get them.
19.Mosquito net.
Don’t eat me.
Our camper van has no mosquito screens so we bought a hanging net which we get out at night and hook over the bed in the worst of the mosquito season. How many beds do we have? Two. Why did we buy one net? Because it was quite expensive. Bloody wish we had forked out on the second net. By the way, mosquitos are worse in areas with stagnant water like lagoons and creeks, and they usually only bother you for about an hour at dusk.
20.Hair bands.
It is often surprisingly difficult to find these on route, yet with long hair, in the heat, I find they are essential. They can also double up as curtain ties; for sorting games or toy; or securing open food packets.
21.Coconut oil.
There really isn’t room to bring lots of toiletries and beauty products. Nor is it de rigeur. We carry one shampoo, one conditioner, an olive oil soap, one shaving foam, one toothpaste, one bicarb, one hairbrush, Calpol for emergencies, disposable razors, nail clippers, tweezers, one sunscreen, one coconut oil. Coconut oil doubles as food stuff and moisturiser, and you can make your own sunscreen with this and zinc oxide. Have I done it? No? I just carry the ingredients around with me, wishfully. I have minimal makeup with me, for which I am far too sweaty, and too much in-and-out-of-the-shower, sea, or pool to bother with.
22.Muslin squares.
Breakfast on a muslin square. The ancient city of Lybre, Turkey.
Self explanatory. Useful as kids’ bibs; dad’s sweat rag; seat covers at meal times; kids’ picnic mat; kids’ bandana; sunshade in the buggy.
(Oh and yeah, I brought the buggy. But mainly because my child is hyperactive and extremely difficult to go in any shop with, unless restrained. Ordinarily I would only bother bringing the buggy for babies. Most places we go the terrain is not suitable. A sling is better).
23.First Aid Kit.
Obviously there is going to be a minor accident at some point. It’s useful. We’ve got some basic medicine in their as well. Antibiotics, anti-histamine, indigestion remedies have been great in emergencies. Generally though, we have found you can access what basic medical aid you need wherever you are. Even in a remote town in Morocco, where my son had a terrible cough that wouldn’t shift, we walked into the medical centre and they saw him straight away and gave me some children’s antibiotics for free.
24.The doomsday book of medicine.
A great directory for dealing with health ailments on the journey. The author, a qualified medical doctor and prepper, advises a list of essentials to carry and how to treat a list of common ailments yourself, from snake bites to wound care; diarrhea to head trauma; UTIs to anxiety.
25.A 12v fan.
After having to abort one summer in the van and move into a house because it was just too hot to sleep at night, for the next summer we bought a 12v fan (well actually we bought two, but one died-a-death as soon as we used it for 8 hours straight. The one that fared well was the Fan-tastic Endless Breeze 12v fan). It saved us in the height of summer.
26.Lots of cloth shopping bags.
Useful for shopping, but also great to hang fruit and vegetables in the kitchen (a fruit bowl is a pain in a moving vehicle); great to store toys in: choke-hazard-free; also really useful to sort clothes into different categories in the cupboard for easy access.
27.A reusable water bottle each.
Initially, we were getting through so much single-use-plastic it was disgusting. It also means you can all take a drink to bed with you that doesn’t spill. Trust me, there are a lot of spillages. In a small space. Over multiple items. In crevices. Enough to bring you to tears.
28.Sheets and a blanket instead of a duvet and duvet cover.
It is more versatile. You can wash the (very sweaty) sheets quickly and easily, and you can pack the blanket away when its too hot and just use the sheet.
29.A cagoule in a bag each.
For rainy showers, stored by the van door.
30. ‘Piddle pads’
Sleeping in the car seat with ink on leg. Sahara, Morocco.
Piddle Pads are waterproof, washable, cloth inserts that fit in the child car seat to catch any wee-wee accidents. And drink spills. You need two on rotation. I only had one, which was not that useful once it had been wee-weed on. If you are potty training you also need two waterproof mattress protectors. Or you can buy disposable incontinence sheets. Very useful to slip under a child who falls asleep on the campervan sofa with no nappy on. On the subject of wee wee, obviously you need the potty. That goes without saying.
I hope that helps somewhat on your trip-planning. Any questions or suggestions please comment below. I’d be interested to hear tips from others traveling or living in a van with young kids.
Oh, and I forgot to mention, you need a six tonne van to carry all this. 😉
