Yesterday after school a few of us teachers went to a
small park area to enjoy the evening. I had an itch to go fishing. So while the
others went to the toast place to get our dinner I went to a fishing shop to
get a cheap fishing rod, reel, and a spinner. Toast is not like toast as we
think of in America. Toast in Korea is more like a hot sandwich or a melt made
with wonderbread. For less than 3 dollars, it is well-worth the value.
At the shop, I asked the clerk about the fishing in
Eumseong. He told me the good places to go. I specifically asked him if the
pond that I intended to fish in was fishable. I went so far as to pull out my
smartphone, load the map, and point to the exact body of water. He answered
affirmatively. Upon setting up my gear, I left the shop in a trot with a pang
of excitement and rendezvoused with the others at the park.
In the park is a pond with a large island in the middle
with narrow stone bridges that lead to it. On it is a gazebo-like structure
built with Korean-style architecture. The island comprises a large area within
the pond, effectively rendering it a moat. As the sun set over the modest buildings,
that is our skyline, we enjoyed each others’ company and the toast. I had
prayed for the food and for us to have a memorable evening and for some fish to
be caught. I scarfed down my sandwich, tied my spinner to the line and I was
off. A few casts and I was unsuccessful.
Within a few minutes I was approached by some children
that were also fishing. A tubby kid whom I suppose was the leader of this pack,
asked if I had any bites. One of his peers would say that he was the fishing
expert among them. Embracing the title, he spoke like a chief and informed me
that the fish were on the otherside. He asked for my rod for he would have a
few casts with it. I relinquished it while one of the girls showed me the carp
they had caught and left in a rock barrier in the water. They eagerly showed me their superior method.
Apparently carp prefer smelly baits over spinners and other lures. Every few
minutes they would pull one in with the simple yet effective line, hook, and
hands. The bait they were using was called “dduk bap” (literal translation:
ricecake rice), which resembled Powerbait and had a poignant odor.
Della and Anna, two of my co-workers, would talk and play
with the kids while all this was happening. Michael, my roommate, and Eric,
Anna’s husband, joined us after finishing their toast. As we had a lot of work
yet to complete for the day, we decided to end the evening and I proceeded to
break down my equipment. Meanwhile, Anna noticed that there was a police car
stopped near the pond. The second we made a step towards our car we heard a
yell at our direction. We turned around and saw a couple of cops shuffling
toward us. One of the cops asked me in a stern voice if we had been fishing.
(Having lived in Ukraine as a minority, I have extensive experience dealing
with cops.) I simply kept my cool, showed that I was not doing anything wrong, at
least to my knowledge, and answered him straightforwardly. With rod and tackle
in hand, I answered affirmatively. He asked if we had caught anything. I said
that we didn’t. Actually, I did reel in a tiny one but we released it. He then
explained that it was illegal to fish there. I told him that I had specifically
asked the fishing shop clerk if it was allowed and that I had been told that it
was allowed. I took the opportunity to ask the cop where fishing was
permissible in Eumseong. He pointed them out to me on my smartphone map. He
questioned us some more and finally let us go after taking down my information.
We noticed that the children had all disappeared a few moments before the
police came.
On our drive back we recapped the event. It was pointed
out that somehow I am the one always getting into trouble with the law. Eric
said to me, “You did pray for tonight to be memorable.”
