Upon arriving at the creek, my guide, Alberto, proceeded to make us 'poles' out of sticks, tieing to them a string, with a rock as the sinker, and a hook. We dug through the mud collecting worms, and were set. I will admit I had very low expectations, but the first 'cast' I made into the water, I had a bite, and pulled out a 'barbudo'...beardfish. Better luck than I ever had in the states! For the first hour, Alberto refused to let me bait my own hook...however, after an hour of THIS muchacha being the only one pulling fish from the river (3 to be exact!), I graduated in his eyes, and got to hook the worms myself. Ha.
Granted, several times throughout the day, I, without fail, managed to tangle up my string, get it caught in some brush, or cast it out over his line, getting both all messy. Unlike outings with my fisherman dad, there were no bouts of impatience including an irritated shake of the head while yelling "JENNNN-AHHHH-FUUURRRR"!!! Which was kind of nice. Love you, Dad.
We left with beardfish (barbudos), a fish I am told is called mojarra (I'm not sure of the English name), and of course, several sardines. The small ones are thrown whole in the fryer, and eaten like little chips. ...It's not the worst thing I've ever eaten...