An dome of netting arches above the water surface. The lead weights splash, and the circular net sinks to the river bed. It’s Sunday afternoon, and three Thai factory workers are cast net fishing. It’s their day off, and they’re concentrating on a finned dinner.
Snug against Taichung’s high-speed rail station, a long raindrop-shaped section of farmland sits between the city’s southwest end and the Dadu Plateau. Irrigation canals wind through the green squares. It’s roughly 1,000 acres, including farmhouses, orchards, and small factories.
I’m cycling the tidy paved paths rolling through the fields and come across the fishermen I’ve seen before.They’re fishing a larger canal, slowly moving upstream towards the confluence of two smaller canals.
I spin up to the low steel fence along the canal, lean against it, and say hello. The fishermen grin and say hi. Two are above supervising, and the third is in the water. He can’t see the schools of fish and depends on his friends for directions. They are laughing, teasing, and barking orders. Their energy is infectious. I’m grinning too.
I admire them. They are thousands of kilometres from home, work long hours, and live in crowded dormitories. Many stay in Taiwan for years. Many support families in Thailand or save for a home, property, or business.
Still, four hundred metres from their tool factory, they’ve found something exciting and enjoyable. And through their discovery have created a Sunday celebration for others too. Perhaps it’s a variation on an activity from back home.
Back down in the canal, the only hard worker organizes his net. He arranges the net like the neat pleats of a curtain in his right hand. The handline is carefully coiled in his left hand. His friends above are pointing to a small school of tilapia just ahead.
Tilapia were introduced during the Japanese colonial period to help control waterway vegetation. They have expanded, hybridized and live in rivers and canals at lower elevations. Tilapia are hardy, nearly indestructible, and delicious.
The three stand still, ready. I’m motionless too. With skill, the fisherman launches his monofilament bundle. It blooms open, glistens in the sun, hits the water, and settles. The operator gently pulls the handline. The lead weights converge. The net is handed up to the supervisors and spread out on the narrow paved road. Smaller fish are tossed back.
One fish spotter opens a worn burlap bag to reveal the catch: a half-dozen large tilapia and a thick 16-inch carp. Three or four more grilling-size tilapia get tossed into the bag.
The three fishermen aren’t the only ones enjoying this activity. Under the factory’s covered parking lot, dozens of the trios’ coworkers prepare charcoal barbeques for the feast. They’re sitting on old plastic chairs and stools - fanning the coals. Low tables and crates are filled with other dishes.
Resting against the canal railing, I realize people do this wherever they go. We travel, live and learn in new places. We find everyday activities and discover new ones. The Thai fishermen have created a Sunday dinner event that includes their whole community.
For me, cycling is a carryover from Canada. Now I cycle with a group year-round and learn more about Taiwan. I’ve discovered birdwatching in Taiwan and enjoy living in a world class birding destination. Hiking is the same, a continuation of something I enjoyed in Canada.
Actually, I think something comes with us everywhere we trek, and something new is discovered. No matter if the journey is weeks or years. Each of us carries home and finds home wherever we go.
photo credit: The Healthy Fish
