zam zam

While in Singapore last week, Husband and I went to the Arab Street area for some tasty Mediterranean food. Fattoush...tabbouli....hommus....yum.

As in Bangkok and other parts of Singapore (dare I extrapolate and make the unfounded claim that this happens all over Asia?), when people (especially a person with "tourist" stamped on their foreheads in sparkly letters) walks past a row of restaurants, the proprietors rush outside to try to entice them to eat there. Generally they will shout things like "Best food!" "Very good, very cheap!" or a list of their special dishes. Sometimes they will shove a menu under your nose.

One man on Singapore's Arab Street dared to be different. He didn't waste his time naming foods. He didn't waste his breath cajoling us. He didn't say a word about his prices. No, he took a more direct approach.

He stood directly in front of me and repeated the name of his restaurant over and over while pointing at its sign. "Zam Zam! Zam Zam! Zam Zam!" Each repetition grew louder and more insistent. It was a bold statement.

OK, I guess you had to be there.