"Don't be frustrated if you don't catch any your first time. It takes a while to learn how to do it. I didn't catch any my first time," he said, without elaborating on what the secret to success might be. A certain flick of the wrist? A special baiting technique? Recognition of a telltale bend in the rod?
Save all that nonsense for fly fishing. Successful shrimpers are the ones who are patient enough to watch the bobber without being distracted by the television. In fact, the biggest obstacle standing between you and a meal of freshly caught shrimp is prying the laoban away from his card game to rent you a rod.
The simplicity, however, is part of the appeal. Even with all of his experience, Mr. Lu hasn't needed to develop his shrimping theory past the basics. "You should put the line in by the bubbles. I think they like the bubbles because it's more fun for them to swim around there," he later suggests.
Such is not to say that the farms don't try to create the illusion of chance and skill. They provide two different kinds of bait, as if the shrimp are picky enough to have a preference for one or the other. The water is kept unnaturally murky so that you can't actually see the shrimp on the bottom. Were it not for that, you could probably just reach in and grab them.
Despite the clouded water, there is usually a catch every few minutes. To restock, the laoban comes over with a big crate of shrimp and unceremoniously dumps them in. Some shameless people make the mistake of running over to that spot in the hope that they will be able to take advantage of the higher concentration of shrimp in the area. However, the shrimp are usually still too traumatized to be hungry, and all these opportunists get for their efforts are disdainful looks from the regulars.
And what if, despite everything, you still don't manage to catch any shrimp? At some farms, if you spend a few hours and don't have anything to show for it, the laoban will just give you some to make sure you go home happy. Skewer them, barbecue them on the grill, then vent your frustrations with a ripping rendition of Billie Jean in the karaoke room.
Yes, your friends will inevitably mock you and ask, "Why would anybody want to sit around a concrete pool for two hours to catch shrimp that were already caught by the farm in the first place? Isn't it kind of pointless? Can catching them really be a satisfying feeling?" Don't be angry with these people, who are incapable of grasping shrimping's simple perfection. They don't understand what all true shrimpers do: Real fishermen may get more respect, but shrimpers always get their money's worth.
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