ribbons of pink
We arrive at the Hippodrome at 8:15 and buy two cups of boza, a fermented bulgur drink with a sprinkle of cinnamon and a half dozen roasted chickpeas floating on top. Families sit at tables or on blankets on the grass, baskets of bread, bowls of soup, Tupperware containers stacked high, bottles of water and glasses spread before them. Everyone waits for the muezzin's call announcing the end of the day's fast. When the time comes, we lift the cups of boza to our lips.