Would You Do This?

'Doctor Fish'

The tourists on Santorini were flocking to have their feet nibbled by tiny fish. One establishment billed itself as 'Doctor Fish' and its logo was a smiling fish in a nurses' hat. A few Google clicks later and I learnt that the fish themselves - a Turkish variety - are called 'doctor fish'. The spa girls assured us that the fish have no teeth, and this is right - they're toothless. The species' correct name is 'garra rufa'. I also learnt (from Wikipedia - what would we do without it?) that:

Doctor fish is the name given to the species of fish Garra rufa. Other nicknames include nibble fish, kangal fish... Garra rufa is called the reddish log sucker. They live and breed in the pools of some Turkish river systems and hot springs. Modernly, they have been integrated as a spa treatment, where they feed on the skin of patients with psoriasis. While the doctor fish treatment has been shown to alleviate the symptoms of psoriasis,[5] they are not meant as a curative treatment, as no cure for psoriasis currently exists. The use of the fish as a spa treatment for the wider public is still widely debated on grounds of efficacy and validity, as the treatment is not shown to have either positive or negative effects.

In addition to eating the dead bits on your feet, the little garra rufa are also have an enzyme in their saliva, diathanol, which is thought to heal conditions such as psoriasis and eczema (source).

Not bothering about the question of positive or negative effects, my adventurous companions both subjected themselves to the attentions of the tiny suckers. One was initially overcome with the ticklish sensation and spent a few minutes laughing; the other found the experience soothing. Both reported feet that felt clean and soft.

Ticklish!

It seems that 'fish spas' are presently banned in the USA, due to health concerns -- spas are supposed to discard or sterilise the 'equipment' they use for pedicures, and the little fish are a bit expensive to replace between nibble sessions. Wiki says:

The practice is banned in several of the United States and Canadian provinces as cosmetology regulators believe the practice is unsanitary, with the Wall Street Journal claiming that "cosmetology regulations generally mandate that tools need to be discarded or sanitized after each use. But epidermis-eating fish are too expensive to throw away"....TV journalist John Stossel has ridiculed state laws against fish pedicures, arguing that they represent a case of the government becoming a "Nanny State", where individuals no longer can make their own decisions about their well-being. He participated in an illegal fish pedicure on his Fox Business Network program to illustrate his point.

Fish politics! But there are plenty of scare stories in the media warning that the little fish, nibbling a variety of different feet, could pose health threats. These dire predictions were not bothering the customers on Santorini.

This WebMD article sorts some of the hysteria from the facts and advises that the risk of infection is low:

The risk of infection associated with Garra rufa fish pedicures is likely to be very low, according to experts from the Health Protection Agency. In October 2011 it issued updated advice on fish spas following an investigation.
Fish tank water may contain a number of microorganisms. So there is the potential to catch a range of infections, either from fish to person, water to person or person to person passed on by the water or the fish.  However, the HPA says the overall risk of infection is likely to be very low, if the spa operates good standards of hygiene.
However, it advises people with weakened immune systems or underlying medical conditions, including diabetes and psoriasis, against using fish spas. It says people with these conditions are likely to be at an increased risk of infection.
People with cuts or infections on their feet should allow them to heal before seeking fish spa treatment, and it is advised to wait at least 24 hours after having a leg wax or shaving before having a fish spa treatment.

'Doctor Fish' in Fira.

The tanks at 'Doctor Fish' in Fira and 'Kissing Fish' in Oia on Santorini - yes, we tried out two places - advertise that there are 200 fish in their tanks. I read a little further through the Wiki article, and discovered that in some fish spas the tanks have hundreds of fish; and at one spa in Croatia, the fish are used to cleanse the bathers. The 'Doctor Fish' establishment in Fira did advertise a tank downstairs where your were invited to fully immerse yourself in fish (in your swimmers - I'd suggest tight fitting ones!) but we weren't tempted.

Only 200 fish... 

Eating that dead skin!

 You may be wondering why the fish nibble your feet so actively, and what they eat in the wild. I did - so back to Wiki:

...the skin-feeding behaviour fully manifests only under conditions where the food supply is somewhat scarce and unpredictable. During their activities of foraging they slough off dead skin. They are simply looking for food which in the wild consists of 'aufwuchs'. In both marine and freshwater environments the algae – particularly green algae and diatoms – make up the dominant component of 'aufwuchs' communities. Small crustaceans, rotifers, and protozoans are also commonly found in fresh water and the sea, but insect larvae, oligochaetes and tardigrades are peculiar to freshwater 'aufwuchs' faunas.

So when there is no algae about, and tiny crustaceans and protozoans are in short supply, the doctor fish will eat your dead skin cells instead. I can only speculate as to whether there is some nutrition in that for them. But apart from their diet, animal welfare groups have expressed some concerns, particularly about fish deaths: "fish are animals too":

Animal rights groups have also voiced alarm over the conditions in which the fish are kept. "We do have concerns about the welfare of any fish involved in this practice," a spokeswoman for the RSPCA told the Observer. "Fish are covered by the Animal Welfare Act. They need a stable environment, with the correct water quality and temperature range. Sudden changes in temperature should be avoided as they can severely compromise welfare and even kill the animals. Water quality is of paramount importance in maintaining healthy fish. Having people bathe in the water with the fish is likely to affect quality, particularly if they are wearing any lotions or other toiletries that could leach into the water. Similarly, chemicals used to disinfect tanks and to clean patients' feet beforehand would have to be non-toxic to the fish." (source)

The government of Turkey has now made the garra rufa a protected species over concerns about over-exploitation by spas. This will no doubt ensure that they are costly to acquire, and therefor will be given careful treatment by their owners. As far as I'm aware, the garra rufa don't die in the process of eating your feet. In fact, from observation, they seem very keen. Or hungry, anyway.

'Doctor Fish'

'Kissing Fish' in Oia.

It's unlike me to post anything about 'celebrities' I've barely heard of (this is definitely a first for this blog) but here's a short but ridiculous video you might enjoy of a 'celeb' enjoying (or not) a fish spa in the Kissing Fish establishment which we visited in Oia.

I leave you to make up your own mind.


I freaked out at this fish pedicure!!!! OMG 🐟🐟🐠🐠🐟🐟

May 1, 2013| Source: Keek.com

The Northern Migration

My best shot :-)

Whale watching is all about the photos, right? Many an eager whale-watcher goes to sea thinking it's about spotting these large friendly animals, and there's excitement when the first 'blow' is sighted. But if you happen to have a camera with you, the whole excursion can quickly descend into a challenging photographic obstacle course. All the whale sightings are through the lens...

But what a pleasure those pictures are later. These are all mine, except for the last two which were taken (with his very long lens) by the pro photographer on board, the talented Jonas Liebschner at Sydney Whale Watching (I could speculate on the nominative determinism there...Jonas and the whales?)

First sighting!

Humpback.

Thar they blow.

Welcome to Sydney.

I love the way the whales just lazily swim by Sydney Harbour, the city skyline in the background. From May until September, they are on their Northern Migration from the Antarctic winter to the warmer climes of northern Queensland, where they'll calve. The families them swim back down to the south for the southern summer, to eat their fill of krill. Sydney is for them, as for the cruise ships of travellers that stop in, a bit of a lazy way point. Whale numbers can reach the hundreds during the height of the migration, and they can often be easily seen from land viewing points all along the coast, as well as from the dozens of whale-watching boat operations setting out twice-daily from Sydney Harbour.

Sydney's visitors are mainly humpbacks, those friendly, curious, and - importantly - photogenic whales. Minkes, the little guys, also visit; and occasionally other varieties are spotted such as fin whales and even the enormous blue whale -- the largest animal on earth.

Humpback...

Tali shot!

Up close & personal

Photo credit: Jonas Liebschner

Photo credit: Jonas Liebschner

God bless our dogs

Ready to sled?

So what's a fun thing to do in the depths of winter in northern Europe? How about a trip to Finnish Lapland, 250 kms above the Arctic Circle, to spend some time looking for the Northern Lights (and failing to find them), taking a husky safari, heading out in a reindeer sleigh, and drinking hot chocolate with a slug of something warming in it?

Sure! Great idea...






Here's a great place to stay: Kakslauttanen, a few kilometres out of Ivalo, where there's an airport. Ask for the 'Traditional House', a wonderful wooden farmhouse with a big fireplace - and the obligatory sauna. Or you can stay in a glass igloo if you prefer.

Just make sure to try that hot chocolate....

The Traditional House

Ah, yes...just what you need when the sun sets at 2.30 pm

My Farthest North: An Arctic Diary

'La Vie Boheme', as you may have noticed, has been in retirement recently, consequent upon your blogger's departure from gloomy England for 'La Dolce Vita' in sunny Italy. But that's a story for another day. We come out of retirement to let you know of the publication, in a variety of ebook formats, of a new story - 'My Farthest North: An Arctic Diary'.


During three weeks in the High Arctic our heroine reaches her ‘farthest north’ as well as her ‘coldest north’. With a wry sense of humour, this fictionalised memoir introduces us to a diverse cast of characters, including polar bears, reindeers, walrus, a Polish Arctic explorer, a Russian sea captain, a quirky expedition leader ... and the shadowy Eduardo. As she journeys on, our narrator tells Eduardo about everything she is seeing, experiencing, learning and reading. We learn gradually that Eduardo is stuck in his office and couldn’t make the trip with her. Are they lovers?

In northern Norway, night disappears along with the 3G signal. Bravely facing the rickety steps down the side of the ship to the inflatable dinghy, learning to make wet landings, and how to – and how not to – approach walrus, our narrator learns a few things about herself and the difficulty of remaining cheerful in spite of a very cold butt. In Svalbard, euphoria at a polar bear sighting gives way to a ho-hum glacier expedition. In Greenland, Heidi the Inuit Girl welcomes the expeditioners in full traditional dress and with walrus canapes, and an Inuit grandmother offers roasted polar bear. In Iceland various threatened species adorn the café menus.

In reading our heroine’s journal written for Eduardo, we are eavesdroppers on her uncensored thoughts. Her bouts of bad temper and her unreasonable expectations are all here, along with her wry assessments of her fellow Arctic travellers. If you’ve ever wondered what it was like to sit in a small boat above the Arctic Circle, with nothing around you but fog, the disappearing sea ice, the chance of a bear sighting and a severe bout of unrequited love, this story is for you.

Sample the book, and obtain your very own e-copy at Smashwords.

Adventures in the ice...

An interesting cast of characters...

And they say you should never work with animals....

Animals in the Zoo

Standing to attention.

Recently, a lively 12-year-old was visiting, so where better to spend the day than London Zoo? We took the scenic route to get there, travelling from Little Venice along the Regent’s Canal in a low canal boat, alighting at the back door of the Zoo. 

What's in here?

London Zoo is an institution: it’s the world’s oldest scientific zoo, opening in 1828 as a scientific study collection. The public were allowed in in 1847, and they’re still visiting today. An interesting bit of trivia: one of the original founders was Sir Stamford Raffles, he of Singapore fame. Until 1902 it was assumed that exotic animals couldn’t survive outside in London’s awful weather - a natural assumption, I’d say - and they were all kept indoors. Then a reorganisation occurred, new ideas led to new buildings and enclosures, and the animals thrived outdoors. A larger site was bought and opened in 1931, which became the Whipsnade Zoo. Today that’s where they keep the elephants and rhino and other Big Guys.

The Victorians apparently loved their Zoo, flocking especially to the Aquarium, the first ever opened to the public. But old buildings, cramped conditions, and a turn of public sentiment against viewing animals in captivity led to trouble for the Zoo. In the 1980s it was threatened with closure, but the public then changed its collective mind and rallied behind the Zoo to keep it open. It doesn’t receive any public funding, and has to raise everything from donations and operating profits. London Zoo also has a big culture of volunteer support and you can - if you’re so inclined - volunteer to be a keeper for a day. This will, you understand, inevitably involve cleaning up animal muck, but it will bring you a closer encounter with the critters.

The Aquarium: popular with the Victorians

The Zoo has made a big effort in recent years to provide animal enclosures which replicate as far as possible their wild habitat. Thus you can visit a quite snazzy Gorilla House, a walk-through tropical rainforest, and a bird aviary. The penguins now have a nice new enclosure - though if I were them, I might miss the lovely blue & white, P&O/Art Deco penguin pool they used to occupy.

The elegant old Penguin Pool

Zoos are good for scientific study, for introducing children (and adults) to exotic animals, and for preserving threatened species. But at the end of the day I must admit to a big preference for seeing wild animals in the wild, if at all possible without wrecking their habitat, or getting eaten. 

The original "Winnie-the-Pooh"

Oh, but before we leave London Zoo, here's an interesting story: it seems that in 1914 a Canadian soldier purchased a black bear in Ontario as a pet, and it became a mascot for his regiment. He named her "Winnie" after his home-town of Winnipeg. When he served on the Western Front in Europe he left the bear in the care of the London Zoo (I don't know why he took the bear with him from Canada to Europe and the war front - seems eccentric). After the war, he donated the bear to the Zoo, and she became a popular exhibit. She was frequently visited by...yes, you guessed it, A.A.Milne and his son, Christopher Robin, becoming the inspiration and original of that bear of very little brain, Winnie-the-Pooh. "Winnie" died in 1934, but London Zoo has a statue to commemorate her.

THIS was in the Reptile House

It's a Radiated Tortoise from Madgascar - amazing, eh?
But don't buy one as a pet- they are rare, and endangered by the pet trade.

Watch the very restful Sloth. We could all learn something from this animal.

Swimming with the Sharks

The Grey Nurse glides by...*shiver*

Manly Aquarium, Sydney

It was a balmy May day in Sydney, the sun was warm and the sea sparkling. But lurking in the sea was a school of....de-de-de-de-de...that dreaded denizen of the deep....yep, SHARKS. So who would choose this time and place to don a wetsuit and SCUBA tank and go diving with the sharks? Especially as it was FEEDING TIME!

That intrepid Man of the Deep, Dan - that's who. Now, let me just clarify. This dive was to take place not in the open waters of Sydney Harbour - even Dan wouldn't go looking for sharks out there - but in the confines of the Manly Aquarium, and under the supervision of expert shark feeders. Yes, it was feeding time at the Aquarium, and there were several varieties of sharks gliding around in the murky water of the tanks: Grey Nurses, and Port Jacksons, and the weird and wonderful Wobbegongs. Plus several impressive sting rays, as large as double-bed blankets, and about as intelligent. (Yes, it was one of those that did for poor Steve Irwin).

Dan takes to the Deep

Now, this would not be my idea of a fun way to spend a sunny Friday morning, but Dan is made of sterner stuff. I and the other breathless spectators were able to watch the whole thing from the perspex tunnels that run through the Aquarium, gasping and ooh-ing and ahh-ing as Dan made his first - yes, folks, his first - dive, into a tank of hungry sharks.

At least, we assumed they were hungry, since it was feeding time. But when it came down to it, the Grey Nurse sharks were decidedly comatose. Despite dead fish being dangled in front of them by the diving feeders, few wanted to actually snack. Instead, they lolled away lazily, looking architypally fearsome but acting like a bunch of bored bunnies. The Port Jacksons were more lively, rummaging around in the feeders' buckets like puppies. The Wobbegong - ah, he (or possibly she) was more impressive, waiting quietly until a dead fish was dangled behind it's head, then snapping at it impressively.

Nope...not interested

The waiting Wobbegong

Dodging a 'ray

'Sea Biscuit', the rescued sea turtle ( a bit of snapper, by reputation)

The Aquarium divers and guides seemed to love their shark buddies. As one guide repeatedly pointed out, more people die every year from falling coconuts than from shark attacks, which is a thought-provoking, if random, statistic.

Dan emerged from the shark tank, casually brushing off a Port Jackson or two and ducking under a massive stingray, proclaiming the Ocean Depths to be his spiritual home.

Diving Dan

Watching with approval

Welsh rarebits

The Welsh Flag

My first visit to Wales. I noted a few odds and ends to report: 

I breezed through Cardiff (the capital of Wales), where my train arrived, but was there long enough to form the impression that the people of Cardiff are very sporting. No fewer than two football stadiums, one holds 75,000 and the other 35,000. The big one is right in the centre of the city a block or two from the railway station. Handy. 

Falcon!

Animal life: On my drive from Cardiff to Brecon in the Brecon Beacons (as the main mountains in South Wales are called) the road-kill consisted of a pheasant, a badger, a small deer and a squirrel. The live animals I saw consisted exclusively of sheep - many sheep, with many baby lambs, newly born. Some black lambs. Some sheep with white wool and black spindley legs. Sheep with long woolly tails. And falcons: stopping for a sandwich at the Brecon Beacons National Park Centre I was greeted by a display of captive falcons; and I swear that I later saw one sitting on a roadside branch, looking hungrily about. 

Welsh Rarebit.

Food: good local produce and plain country fare, including home-baked bread, wonderful cheese, and - in one excellent find - rock cakes like my Nanna used to make. I did eat Welsh Rarebit, and nice and cheesy it was too. The other predominant food (in addition to lamb) is leeks. In most things. A National Vegetable.

And now we come to the language. I expected to be a bit baffled, but I’ve never before known the GPS lady betwattled. After a few game tries on place names like “Merthyr Tydfil” she completely gave up on “Ffwrd” (“Turn left into F-F-W-R-D Road”, she spelled out). The same with  “Stwff” and “Cwm”. Even I know “Cwm” is “coom”.  

Ah, the lilting Welsh language! Here’s a Basic Guide (if you can follow it) cribbed from a tourist brochure:

Welsh Equivalent sound

C cath(cat)                  cat (never as in receive)

Ch chwaer(sister)       ch as in loch

Dd yd dda (good)       dd is pronounced as th in them

F y fam (the mother)   f sounds like a v

Ll llaw (hand)            Tricky one, the nearest sound in English is 

                                   L with a th in front of it

Th byth (ever)            three (never as in the)

A few greetings:

Bore Da                     Good morning

Noswaith dda            Good evening

Sut mae?                    How are you?

Diolch                       Thank you

Da                             Good

Dydd Da                   Good day

Nos da                       Good night

Hwyl                         Cheers

Croeso                      Welcome

Iechyd da                  Good health

Cymru                      Wales

I must say that despite the teensy language gulf, the Welsh showed themselves a very welcoming, friendly people. After all, one of the most famous Welsh songs is: 

We'll keep a welcome in the hillside

We'll keep a welcome in the Vales

This land you knew will still be singing 

When you come home again to Wales.

Which is an excellent lead-in to that other thing that Wales is famous for: male voice choirs and magnificent singing:

Images from: 

http://teawithmarykate.wordpress.com/2010/02/28/celebrate-st-davids-day-inspiration-from-tea-with-mary-kate/

Tasmanian locals

Thylacine

I was thinking of devoting this blog post to the thylacine, the ‘Tasmanian Tiger’, but I like to illustrate my posts with photographs I’ve taken myself. I did keep an eye out on my recent visit to the Tasmanian wilderness, but - *sigh* - no Tiger was to be seen. The last know specimen died in captivity in a Hobart zoo in the 1930s, the unusual animal having been hunted to extinction. While it’s sadly not unusual for man to hunt entire species to extinction, it usually happens because they are wanted as food. In the case of the poor thylacine, it just got a bum rap. Farmers in the early colony despised it as a killer of their sheep, when in truth the Tier probably preferred its natural native prey, and was merely scavenging sheep killed by dogs. Despite being called a ‘tiger’, a ‘wolf’, and other scary names, it was actually a rather docile nocturnal beast.

Certainly it was not a tiger, and, despite a dog-like face, only vaguely related to the dog. Part cat, part dog, part hyena, it was a marsupial which gave birth to embryo young which were suckled in a pouch. It had a stiff tail which extended solidly from its back, solid stripes across its back, huge jaws, and no natural predators. Till the English settlers arrived. These days, the Tasmanian Tiger is the symbol of the state of Tasmania, which has regretted the demise of this unique creature since the day the last one died. Or was it the last one? Some believe that in the unexplored forests of Tasmania, the thylacine has remained hidden, and survives to this day....

Recommended reading: “Thylacine: The Tragic Tale of the Tasmanian Tiger” by David Owen (2003)

Koala girls: not Tasmanian, but how could I resist?

Wombat!

Possum sighting

So, failing a photo of a thylacine (so far), I draw your attention to some other rather more common Australian marsupials - the wombat, the wallaby and the possum. All give birth to embryo babies which are suckled in pouches, and all can be seen abroad in the Tasmanian wilderness. And then there’s the interesting subset, the monotremes, an ancient line which has nevertheless proven a great survivor: it’s two exemplars being the platypus and the echidna. These guys (or, rather, girls) lay eggs, and then suckle the hatched young. Platypus are almost as hard to photograph as the thylacine, so I had to be content with an echidna sighting.

Echidna: minding its own business.

But a review of Tasmania’s marsupials, however brief, would be woefully incomplete without mention of that other wrongly-maligned creature, the Tasmanian Devil. Although it would be drawing a long bow to describe Devils as ‘cute’, they are quite shy, nocturnal, rarely hunt (preferring to scavenge), and that roaring thing they do? Just show, folks. With jaws as strong as  theirs, if they were to fight in earnest there’d be no Devil left standing. And who gave them such a pejorative name, I wonder?

"Ozzie", a bred-in-captivity Devil. The hope of his species.

These days, with the thylacine (presumably) gone, the devil is at the top of the food chain, with no natural predators. Even man has left these little guys alone - I guess they don’t taste great, their pelts aren’t big enough to be useful, and nobody has slandered them as sheep-killers. They’d be doing great, if they weren’t being devastated by a hideous facial tumour that is killing off great swathes of them. No-one really knows where it came from,but it is a cancer and is exacerbated, at least, by a small gene pool. No-one knows of a cure, either, so efforts are being centred around trying to separate affected and unaffected populations; and breeding healthy devils in captivity. Which is how I was able to photographs these for you, at the Cradle Mountain Devil breeding facility.

Just for show, folks.

And so the sadly maligned Thylacine becomes the symbol of the state that hounded it to extinction. Probable extinction.