Fishing, Cyprus Style: It was meant to b
e a happy birthday trip for Ashleigh, and a fun get away before she gets too pregnant to comfortably walk around town, fly or both, but when we passed by the various tour operators in Paphos, Cyprus’s southern harbor, I realized I couldn’t handle another day by the pool. He was the skipper, deckhand, hook-baiter and sales agent all wrapped into one. After quickly negotiating himself down from 25 euros to 20 euros per person, we (more appropriately, me) were sold. We finished our stroll around the small harbor wondering what kind of boat 20 euros buys you for a 3 hour tour.
e a happy birthday trip for Ashleigh, and a fun get away before she gets too pregnant to comfortably walk around town, fly or both, but when we passed by the various tour operators in Paphos, Cyprus’s southern harbor, I realized I couldn’t handle another day by the pool. He was the skipper, deckhand, hook-baiter and sales agent all wrapped into one. After quickly negotiating himself down from 25 euros to 20 euros per person, we (more appropriately, me) were sold. We finished our stroll around the small harbor wondering what kind of boat 20 euros buys you for a 3 hour tour. Our captain, a fast-talking Cypriote, who spoke perfect English, except when it didn’t suit him, was an interesting mix of fisherman, businessman and personality. “what kind of fish do we c
atch?” “fish,” was his reply. Why are you bothering me with such trifling questions! The fishing grounds were directly offshore from harbor, 150 feet of water. You would think that large fish live in 150 feet of water. How wrong…. The first fish to come up was a perch not more than 3 inches long. It went in the bucket. Turns out they make great fish soup—I’ll take his word for it.
atch?” “fish,” was his reply. Why are you bothering me with such trifling questions! The fishing grounds were directly offshore from harbor, 150 feet of water. You would think that large fish live in 150 feet of water. How wrong…. The first fish to come up was a perch not more than 3 inches long. It went in the bucket. Turns out they make great fish soup—I’ll take his word for it. The ‘deckhand’, Mike, a Brit who had been coming to Cyprus for 20 year, over time and enough paid fishing trips, had become friends with the captain. They had some arrangement worked out that I never really figured out the terms of. He
had a house in the mountains, a boat in the harbor and a business back in the UK that he mostly managed over email. We bonded. Partly because the captain’s omnipresent cigarette dangling from his mouth drove Ashleigh out of the covered aft deck to sun herself on the bow. That and she had already put twice as many fish in the bucket as me so she, mercifully, gave me a chance to catch up. “I’ll tell my diver to put more fish on your line.” He said in my direction, but for Ashleigh’s benefit. “My fish-catching policy is strictly enforced, but since everybody caught fish, now no one has to swim home.”
had a house in the mountains, a boat in the harbor and a business back in the UK that he mostly managed over email. We bonded. Partly because the captain’s omnipresent cigarette dangling from his mouth drove Ashleigh out of the covered aft deck to sun herself on the bow. That and she had already put twice as many fish in the bucket as me so she, mercifully, gave me a chance to catch up. “I’ll tell my diver to put more fish on your line.” He said in my direction, but for Ashleigh’s benefit. “My fish-catching policy is strictly enforced, but since everybody caught fish, now no one has to swim home.” “I need a break from cigarette smoke and bad fishing jokes.” Fair enough, you may have earned yourself a day by the pool.
