“chay lah te doh blah he si ah”
That’s basically what I hear when the men peddling their wares come down our street, yelling at the top of their lungs, causing you to make split second decisions whether to become a shop-at-home impulse buyer. The best is the bullhorn mounted on top of the station wagon that sounds like it’s dispensing Communist propaganda…until you see the eggs stacked high in the back.
Sometimes it’s a man carrying brushes — and I mean all kinds of brushes, from hair brushes to brooms! (Who buys this stuff, anyway?!? “Oh yes, actually, I was just thinking I needed a brush and didn’t you just come by at the perfect time!”). Other times it’s knife sharpening skills (which we actually did decide was a perfectly proper way to have our knives sharpened…by the man sitting on his stool on our front step…..which answered my question of who is buying this stuff.)
And then there was Rudy. We heard his yelling as he was blocks away, but when he got to our street, we sheepishly peeked out the window to take a look. He was carrying a wicker basket with a clean dishtowel smothering the steam from something warm inside that we just knew would be delectable. Joel grabbed a couple coins and ran outside.