A view of paradise

I went deep sea fishing because I've never done it before. Paul thinks that having never done anything before is no reason to do something. True. But it sounded interesting.

There were a few things I wanted to be and to do when I was a kid. I wanted to spend some time working on an orchard, and I guess you can say that being on a fishing boat is a variation of the same idea. I like being out on a boat at sea, and there is something appealing about being able to catch dinner. I didn't like the idea of getting smelly and messy, but after a while, you tend to just adapt to whatever happens.

It is almost a comical torture. We sail out and find a spot, the captain tells you that you can lower the line, and everyone tosses their sinker into the ocean. It isn't an order, but it sure felt like one. The sore thumbs of soft city dwellers rub against the reel as we let loose the line, residual salt water spraying onto our faces. Every bob of the line feels like a bite. We stand, ignoring the bits of bait underneath our fingernails. Waiting and hoping.

After some time, probably depending on how everyone was doing, the captain tells us to reel in the lines and we go find the next fishing spot. It happens about 5-6 times, almost like a drill. It was freezing in the early morning, and the hairs on the backs of our fingers were standing frozen. As the sun comes out through the fog, things become more pleasant and you forget how silly it all is. A boatload of 50 people, standing almost shoulder to shoulder around the edge of the boat, holding fishing rods and standing still. We paid to do this. There is conversation, mostly about fish and someone's sister. You stare at the ocean and it's all good. Until you get burnt.

Despite what they say about knowing where your food comes from, I don't think it made much of a difference seeing my large fish reduced to a tiny fillet under the knife of one of the mates. I can recognize a haddock, a cod, and a perch; I guess I learnt something. Could I be a fisherman for the rest of my life? Perhaps.

The repetition of daily life is important to me, despite my liking spontaneity. The important thing is choosing what you will bear. Kundera described paradise. "The longing for paradise is man's longing not to be man. Its monotony bred happiness, not boredom." (The Unbearable Lightness of Being). He didn't describe hell, but it might have something to do with monotony as well.

I went deep sea fishing because I've never done it before. Paul thinks that having never done anything before is no reason to do something. True. But it sounded interesting. And I'm not ready for paradise.