When I lived in England, I never understood the appeal of fishing. It seemed odd to catch fish only to throw them back. I was a city girl whose diet mostly consisted of fast food and frozen microwave meals, so fish rarely featured unless it came from the local takeaway—deeply battered, greasy, and wrapped in paper alongside soggy chips. That changed when I moved to Turkey and discovered Aegean cuisine: fresh fish and seafood served simply with crisp salads and a glass of traditional raki.
During my first year in Turkey I tried fishing for the first time and quickly learned that local customs and techniques are very different from what I had imagined.
My First Experience of Fishing in Turkey
I sat at the harbour in Marmaris with some local friends who decided to go fishing. I told them I thought it was a waste of time. They laughed and replied with surprise.
“Why would we throw the fish back? Are we stupid? We will cook it for dinner.”
That made sense: why buy fish at the supermarket when you can catch it yourself? I agreed to join, although our gear was basic—a length of twine, a few hooks and bread for bait—because money was tight. The locals, who had fished since childhood, had no trouble getting bites. My inexperience meant I caught nothing, but their hospitality prevailed and they shared their meal with me. Still, I left unconvinced and a little frustrated.
The Flying Fish Boat in Altinkum
Over the years I grew to appreciate Aegean food and began buying fresh fish directly from harbour fishermen. I also loved small seaside restaurants that served calamari in a light, crispy batter with a Turkish-style tartar sauce. The tradition of serving fish with the head still on stopped bothering me as I adapted to local tastes.
One day an advert in the local expat paper caught my eye: “Sunset fishing trips… All equipment supplied. Beginners and novices welcome.” We booked a trip with the Flying Fish boat in Altinkum and set out an hour before sunset. Following the captain’s instructions, I rigged my rod, baited the hook with slimy octopus and cast my line, expecting a slow evening. Instead, ten minutes later a sharp tug signaled my first catch.
The fish that surfaced was not at all what I expected: translucent pink with sharp spines. I refused to touch it and it was returned to the sea. After that, though, the trip turned out well. The boat’s bucket gradually filled and my confidence grew with each catch.
Sitting on the deck with my feet up, watching the sun dip below the horizon, sipping cold beer and knowing I was catching my own dinner felt surreal compared with my previous life in the UK.
What Happened to the Fish We Caught?
We could have cooked the fish on board, but instead we took our catch to a nearby restaurant. About 45 minutes later the waiter returned with our freshly cooked fish, served with chips and salad. Many coastal restaurants will prepare your catch for a small fee, and that evening was a perfect example of the simple pleasures of coastal life.
I hope fast food and processed frozen meals never overshadow these traditions. I love spending time in coastal resorts and wandering harbour quays. Catching my own dinner and enjoying Aegean flavors are quirky routines that make me love Turkey even more.
