Down Arab Street

I arrived on Arab Street at sunset, just in time for the melodic adhān which reverberated from the gold-domed mosque. The call to prayer echoed through the quiet streets filled with people shopping and smoking hookah. We struggled for almost an hour, looking for a good restaurant with a good price while trying to also extricate ourselves from the greedy grasp of enthusiastic vendors who claimed their purses cost $15 more than the last vendor only because theirs were truly Persian (as opposed to the cheap Chinese knock-offs supposedly sold by the vendors with more reasonable prices). Starved, we eventually settled on a Persian restaurant where I ordered Eggplant Marinara which should have been called Eggplant Paste. Before leaving for our trip, we were told that if we were unsure about something we tried in Singapore we should never call it, “gross,” but rather use a more generous term like, “interesting.” Needless to say Eggplant Paste is extremely interesting. 

The Sultan Mosque at dusk.

Inside the prayer hall.

Since my first visit to Arab Street, I’ve returned twice: once to learn about Malay culture and tour the mosque and again to shop the blog boutiques and buy perfume from Jamal Kazura Aromatics. I loved the mosque from the moment I first laid eyes on it: a beautiful example of Western-Middle Eastern-inspired architecture with large golden gates, rounded pentagonal windows trimmed with latticework, and a grand dome. But the inherent beauty of the mosque is lost until its story is shared: the mosque was built by the worshipers themselves with each person donating a small part to its construction, the poorest among them donating glass bottles, the ends of which were shaped into a dark ring circling the bottom of the dome.

The golden gates leading inside.

The view from inside the mosque, looking over a beautiful garden below.

We stopped by the Malay Heritage Center, a museum dedicated to the history of Malay Muslims living in Singapore (usually Malay is synonymous with Muslim in Singapore). It was closed for renovation, but even if it had been open, I doubt we would have gone inside. Or, rather I should say, I doubt we could have gone inside; several blondes (myself included) were accosted by a large group of Chinese tourists who wanted to take photographs with us. We took individual pictures, small group shots, and then posed with an entire wedding party. “Movie star, movie star!” they said as more people piled into the picture and cameras were swapped around.

When the photo shoot finally ended (maybe twenty minutes later), we continued down the Kampong Gelam district to an Islamic school founded by a rich Muslim family in the early 1900s. The school is a welcome alternative for many Muslims in Singapore as girls are not allowed to wear the tudung (more commonly referred to outside of Singapore as the hijab or head scarf) in the classroom, forcing Muslims to choose between religion and education. This Islamic school meets standard education requirements while also teaching Islamic values, preparing students for entrance to university while establishing their religious foundations.

My third (but certainly not my last) time on Arab Street, I finally had the chance to shop. I’d walked through Jamal Kazura Aromatics briefly during our second visit, but I hadn’t been able to buy anything as we would have been out all day and I didn’t want the bottle to break and sweet-smelling perfume to spill all over my purse. Originally I’d had my eyes set on a beautiful glass bulb-shaped bottle with looping gold floral designs, but moving farther into the store I came across the crystal collection and changed my mind. They dabbed me with what must have been sixty different floral perfumes and then they had to dab me all over again so I could narrow my choices. I left smelling as if the bottle had leaked not only all over my purse, but all over my clothes as well.

I also mentioned shopping in blog boutiques which are shops filled with clothes imported from countries like Taiwan and sold via blogs (as well as on location) at lower prices. We had a great time walking up narrow staircases leading to spacious flats filled with blaring florals and outrageous designs (like a pair of pants with pockets that flare like a skirt). We also found more promising prospects amongst the rows of hangers and tried quite a few dresses in search of the perfect party dress. No luck this time.

I plan to return to Arab Street. Several friends have told me that the best Mexican restaurant in Singapore is not too far away, and while I’m certainly not hankering for rice anytime soon, it’s been a while since I’ve seen the likes of refried beans!