Out of Vogue Travel

When I look at travel magazines I see a whole lot of glossy prettiness that I might momentarily lust after, but I know that what I really want out of global adventuring is the odd, the cheesy and the so uncool it's come full circle back to cool. Slinky is nice, but dinky is forever. I once stalked a whole family with mullets through the streets of Paris for an hour, hoping for the perfect shot. I couldn't tell you a single other thing of note I did that day, week or trip.

Take a recent trip to Singapore and Malaysia. My time was jam-packed with work, so opportunities for mullet hunting were limited. I did some scrappy internoodle research before I left, however, and quickly stumbled upon my first free time activity - the fish spa.

A spa can be a jacuzzi, or a place you go to for various overpriced treatments involving shea butter, rocks and a small but violent woman who smiles while she hurts you. In this case, the spa was a toddler pool filled with fish that are slightly bigger than bait and have a keen interest in nibbling your feet.



You begin by exchanging the obligatory piranha joke with the attendant. He won't smile. When you finally put your feet in the fish will go nuts for you, having gradually lost interest in the other feet in their world (yes, it's a communal pool). These are cheese lovin' fish, evidently. Next, giggle like a lady-boy for an extraordinary amount of time until you almost pass out and topple into the thing. Finally, just as your fifteen minutes for 10 Ringgit is almost up, achieve a state of acceptance and enjoyment of this most disturbing spa treatment.

I can't vouch for any therapeutic benefits, although the sign says 'Improved Circulation and Skin Exfoliation'. That may well be true, but if laughter is the best medicine then this is a quadrupal bypass. I discovered there are other places in Singapore where you do this and can go in up to your neck. Let's hope they're not cave-dwelling fish.

As I sprinted through Great World City in Singapore for a meeting I could not help but notice a restaurant plastered with gold records, guitars and other musical whatnot. On closer inspection I saw that this was a restaurant named for that most obvious Singaporean obsession, Mr. Kenny Rogers. The restaurant was called 'Kenny Rogers Roasters' and offers 'The world's greatest chicken'. It's these moments of discovery that make the most tedious flights worthwhile. Someone had built a shrine to Kenny Rogers! In Singapore?! I stood outside, head angled like a confused dog, for some time before resuming my sprint.

Sometime later that week, and after speaking to many people about my discovery, I learned that Kenny Rogers Roasters is actually a very big deal in Asia. Marvellous! They have stores all over Asia, and are huge in the Philippines in particular. Every one I saw was packed to the hilt with punters hungry for a slice of Kenny goodness.



I note with intense personal and possibly professional interest that Australia is listed on their website as 'Coming Soon'. Oh please let it be true. Not for the food (I ate there and fillet of foot fish would be better) but for the sheer delight of seeing Kenny's face beaming down from the logo wherever I go (and note that the logo sports a pre-cosmetic surgery Kenny image. Bizarrely, post-op Kenny has more than a little Colonel Sanders about him).



It's sublimely absurd and what I call travel.