He is as graceful as a performer in Cirque du Soleil. He balances on one leg on the very stern of his boat and steers the boat with his other leg wrapped around his single oar. With his hands he casts and hauls his fishing net.

But he’s not performing for an audience, and there are hundreds like him out on the lake. He’s feeding his family and perhaps also harvesting enough fish to take to market in the same traditional way his father did, and his grandfather, and on back.

The fact that he is enchanting a couple of passing visitors on the lake is of no concern to him. Or to any of the other fishermen.

Sometimes, though, the fishermen do flaunt their skill. Sometimes they have races, village against village, on the lake. The fishermen use special racing boats, twenty men on port and twenty on starboard, a team of forty-plus from each village. (As you can imagine, left-handed–or left-legged–fishermen are relatively rare and therefore much in demand.) We saw one of the boats (sorry, no picture) and wish we could have watched a race, but it was the wrong time of year. But here’s a link to a video of a race; it had me laughing with delight.