A Singapore Jaunt, With Flesh-Eating Fish

A few weeks ago, I went to Singapore for some work assignments and stayed an extra day to celebrate my 32nd birthday. From the moment I landed, I instantly liked the city-state; people are extremely friendly and speak English, which was a welcome break from all the Mandarin I've been trying to speak. The roads are immaculate -- no people spitting onto the sidewalk, no trash on the streets, no smells of rotten garbage -- and the 70 to 80 degree weather in the middle of January was a refreshing heat wave for me. (I had to unpack some of my summer work clothes for the trip!)

Singapore: lush trees with skyscrapers.

There are plenty of mixed feelings about Singapore's first prime minister Lee Kuan Yew, but one of the greatest things he did was envision the city as a tropical oasis with plenty of greenery. The highways are lined with sprawling vegetation, flowers flank boulevards and there are public parks and green spaces everywhere in the city. One afternoon I walked by a rugby match happening smack dab in the middle of downtown, a huge sports complex not far from the towering banks and financial center of Singapore. It was nice to see that a developer hadn't (at least not yet) bulldozed the field to build luxury condos. 

Cool architecture of a Singaporean mall.

Some of the highlights from my trip included eating dinner in Dempsey Hill, a lush, hilly area that's been transformed from former military barracks into a cluster of restaurants, art galleries and bars, and meandering down Arab Street and Haji Street, where the old look of Singapore has been conserved and now house boutiques, fabric shops, rug markets and more. 

Dinner at an outdoor cafe in Dempsey Hill.

Wandering around Arab Street. 

On my birthday, a WSJ friend of mine, Shibani, took me to one of the hawker markets that Singapore is famous for, where small stalls sell large plates of a variety of food for cheap prices. We had Hainanese Chicken rice, a well-known Southeast Asian dish that's served with chili and garlic sauces, and carrot cake, which is made of radish cake, egg, and other seasonings. That night, I went back to the hawker market with Scott and we tried even more exquisite dishes: Indian roti prata, local Tiger beer and oyster omelets. The next morning we had the traditional breakfast of Singaporeans, Kaya toast, which is served with butter and coconut jam, and dipped into eggs. It was amazing. 

The Maxwell Centre hawker market.

Not the typical carrot cake: Singapore's carrot cake concoction with radish, daikon, eggs and other yumminess.

One of the highlights of the trip came one night after a long day of reporting. I'd read about fish spas in Singapore, where small fish eat the dead skin off your legs and feet. The "spa" treatment originated in Turkey and has become popular in many Southeast Asian countries. The idea totally creeped me out, but I figured why not? I had a slew of calluses from the winter in Beijing and when else would I have the chance?

A pamphlet touting the claims of "Doctor Fish."

Called fish spa therapy, the 30-minute treatment was about $35 dollars. It began with an employee washing my feet and then I was told to roll up my pants and place my feet into a large fish tank. I hesitated once I saw the shear number of fish swimming around, and realized I'd probably talk myself out of it if I didn't just take the plunge. 

Time to start freaking out. 

The second I dipped my toe in, about 200 to 300 little fish swarmed. I let out a bit of a scream. I couldn't look down for fear of freaking out even more: the view of hundreds of fish darting toward you and then sucking onto your feet and skin seemed like something out of a horror movie. The nibbling felt like a mini-micro massage, a weird sensation of something between a tickle and the soft vibration of one of those chair massages. For me, the sight of the "spa treatment" was scarier than the feeling. Part of it was because I could see the mouths of each fish gobbling up the dead skin on my legs. They came so close to my knees that I kept thinking if I move one inch or slipped somehow, that my entire body would be engulfed by flesh-eating fish. 

For most of the treatment I closed my eyes and tried to relax. The owner of the spa placed me right in front of the entrance, which gave me some distraction as little kids stopped to ooh and ahh at the fish in the tank feasting on some white girl's legs. For them, I looked like a grand display at an aquarium. 

Hard to get a close-up, as the fish moved quickly, on an eating spree.

But the treatment was totally worth it: at the end of the 30 minutes my calves and feet felt as soft as a baby's butt. Seriously, no exfoliation or extravagant pedicure could have done what these fish did. The treatment worked so well that by the end of the 20-minute walk back to my hotel I was in pain, a fresh layer of skin rubbing against my sandals without the protection of calluses. 

You can see them hovering right at the top of the water on my calves.

Overall, I'm really glad I did the fish therapy. The experience was so different, unlike anything I've tried, and I reminded myself that living and working in Asia provides opportunities for these types of adventures. I should soak them in and not be afraid of trying something that seems weird or quirky because it's these types of outlandish experiences that make the best memories. 

Below, a few more shots from Singapore. 

Stopping for a snack on Haji Lane. 

Haji Lane's traditional Singapore homes.