Electric Chillies?

What better place to dry your hot chillies and just washed sneakers than on an electrical utility box directly in the hot afternoon sun? I love how the Taiwanese are practical and use what is available.

Your Lunch is in the Pool - A local Taiwanese how to guide to catch a meal poolside.

hard fighting shrimp - beware the claws

                                                    

 

The Pool Venue

A fluorescent orange and yellow bobber shudders and then disappears through a column of aeration bubbles. Raising the fishing rod, the seven-inch shrimp puts up a surprising fight. The bundle of legs and tail thrashes to the surface. It's like wrangling a porcupine. I focus on removing the miniature hook but overlook the slender flaying pincers. A tiny alligator clip claw catches the skin between my thumb and index finger. My eyes water. This is shrimping in Taiwan.

Islandwide, in warehouse-style structures, city dwellers get their nature fix indoors. Fishing for shrimp originated in southern Taiwan in the 1990s in open outdoor ponds. Soon, shrimping migrated north, moved inside to suit urban dwellers, and became a popular Taiwanese pastime. Friends, families with children, and groups come to shrimp and socialize. Contests are popular, and even shrimping dates are common. My shrimping pool in Taichung, the island’s second-largest city, is between a mechanic’s shop and a bingo hall.

Inside the well-lit building, Taiwanese pop songs pour from ceiling speakers. Industrial refrigerators, arcade games, and empty beer cases line one wall. A powerful aeration pump pushes two dozen air pillars through a rectangular pool 20 feet by 50 feet filled with dark, waist-deep water. It roars like a giant Jacuzzi. A restaurant kitchen and extra shrimp holding tanks occupy the building’s rear section. It is Sunday morning, and shrimpers fill tables throughout the warehouse. One group is well into a beer breakfast.

At the counter of the Eastern Sunrise Shrimping Venue, a young woman greets me. It is 200 Taiwan dollars (US$7.00) for an hour of shrimping. In desperate Mandarin, I sputter, “I want one hour.” The woman smiles, then confirms, “One hour?” I answer, “Yes”.

My Attempt

An hour of shrimping includes a seven-foot tapered rod and a section of monofilament line slightly longer than the rod and fastened to the tip with an elastic band. The line ends with a bobber, a small lead sinker, and two tiny hooks. A disposable razor knife for cutting bait is provided. In addition, a small plastic bag of half an inch long freeze-dried shrimp bait costs 20 Taiwan dollars.

People surround the water in blue plastic chairs with snacks and drinks resting on the pool’s raised concrete lip. Mesh live bags precariously hung in the pool by teacup hooks hold caught shrimp until lunchtime. A small square of recycled cardboard acts as a bait chopping block. Like any fished river or lake, shrimpers work their bait through preferred areas. Some choose swift, central sections while other bobbers hug the quiet pool edge. Every hour attendants heave two buckets of fresh shrimp into the pool. After 60 minutes, I have one shrimp. I need help.

The Secrets

My colleague sends me back the following Sunday with valuable information. Bait is important. Experienced shrimpers are particular about what shrimp see and smell, and many shrimpers prepare their own bait. Fresh chicken livers, milkfish intestines, and marinated specialities are popular. A colourful poster at a local fishing shop offers almost 20 different bait options. The fishing shop boss suggests two possibilities: frozen earthworms and minced pork, both soused in special sauce.

Back at the pool, I break out my new bait. Customizing is king in shrimping. Aside from homemade bait, regular shrimpers use their own rods, bobbers, and hooks. Some have mini tripod rod holders.

Five minutes later, the worms work, and my first shrimp comes to hand. My neighbour smiles, nods, and then offers a chunk of his homemade bait. It's a piece of marinated fish. Pink and pungent. Shrimping is social and experienced shrimpers freely offer advice to newbies. I’m grateful. It works, and my second shrimp is in the live net. I’ve doubled my previous total.

Then, unexpectedly the shrimping goes cold. I pay for another hour but have no luck. Finally, a shrimp pool employee takes pity on me. He quietly kneels beside me, checks my baited hooks and says, “Big.” He puts on two larger fish pieces. He returns my rod and then helps me manoeuvre the bobber to the edge of a yard wide aeration column pushing up through the pool. He explains, “Shrimp are near the bubbles.” He pushes the rod tip down to the water surface. This keeps the bobber upright and the line tight. The bait rests on the bottom.

It takes unexpected concentration to hold the bobber taut against the bubbles, keeping the rod tip down, and watching the bobber. The bobber wavers slightly then moves left and down. We give the rod a quick flick, set the hook, and up splashes a shrimp. My teacher and I grin. Bait is important, but so is technique.  

In my remaining thirty minutes, I catch two more shrimp and lose several tugging on the line too soon before the shrimp have a chance to take the bait. But I'm smiling. The shrimping secrets are revealed slowly. I will be back.