I was at a travel bloggers’ conference in Cape Town the other day, my fasting made conspicuous while my companions ate lunch by the unsullied swath of tablecloth before me. “Oh, of course, it’s Ramadan,” one said when I explained. “How’s that going for you? Must be tough,” remarked another. I awaited the flurry of questions I usually field back home: “What’s that? How does it work? You don’t eat for a whole month? Not even water?!?” The barrage never came.
