Martin Han, G9, RDF International School

On most days in Dapeng, there is plenty of sunlight, since it is near the sea. It is rare that the sky grows cloudy, even rarer that it rains. So most of the days here, it is terrific for fishing.

I love fishing.

When days are sunny, I would hop in my car, go to the shorelines and test my luck. Most people tell you fishing needs patience; it indeed does: patience for tying your hook, patience for getting your things ready, patience for preparing your rod and your lines, patience is even needed for getting your worm on the hook properly; that needs good skills too. You need to first cut off its head because it bites, then you aim carefully at the top of the worm and push into it. The worm will automatically bend into the shape of the hook; afterwards, you penetrate the side of the worm when it comes to the end of your hook, and cut off the rest.

Fishing is made up of these little things, just like little things make up life.

I cast my line into the ocean. It is hard finding the right place to cast, because there are rocks on the bottom, but you don’t know where they are, so you have to test over and over to get the idea where the rocks are. It comes at a cost, because most likely, your line is going to be hooked to the bottom, and off it goes, and you will have to tie another one on.

Fishing is not fun most of the time; it is often monotonous and similar tasks have to be done repeatedly. It urges you to quit all the time.

Time passes, and a fish bites the bait and is reeled in. We celebrate for the fish that finally comes, but something else is also felt: We feel that our work is recognized, appreciated, and accepted. It feels to me as if in the end, the fish isn’t the one that matters.

What matters, is the time, effort and energy we put forth, the sweat, and frustration felt and overcome by us, and in the end, what is remembered is not the fish, but the process of getting it.

I love fishing.