March 2014 | By: The Scrotable Scribe
Tarunaland, The Happiest Kingdom of them All
Or
Nyepi Ki Yay, Nyepi Ki Yo'
The best laid plans of mice and men often go astray and thus I found myself driving two canny Scots persons to the hash last Saturday. Not that there was anything wrong with that, in fact they were jolly company indeed. Only one of them was wee, and I misunderstood what they were saying only half the time. The other half I had no idea at all. Just kidding, these guys were living in Jakarta when I was in knee pants and therefore not really of the broad speaking variety of Scots persons, which is a bit ironic because I seem to be in knee pants most of the time now as well, in these my advanced years.
Anyway, we were busy finding various features in the traffic amusing, such as an unfortunate motorcyclist who I almost felled by running him into a traffic island (accidentally, I assure you) but who still enthusiastically gestured at me to lower the window and smilingly insisted on knowing where we were bound on this fine Saturday and if he could assist us in our quest in any way, though it was difficult to ascertain how he might conceivably do so, especially if I continued to force him into concrete traffic structures. Could you possibly imagine this happening as a result of a near collision in Sydney or Perth, or Glasgow for that matter? I would have ended up in hospital one way or another. Bali constantly beggars the imagination, for which I am eternally grateful, sometimes.
We proceeded through the archway entrance (which was recently blocked to traffic, including tour buses, and is now open again, I wonder whose bright idea that was) to the Jalan that runs by the Taman Ayu obyek wisata and made our merry way up Jln Bedugal to that most familiar of all hash sites, Sobongan. It must be said that there were not a lot of people at this week’s hash following a “run” of hashes that were almost painfully well attended: St. Andrew’s Day run, St Patrick’s Day run, the Sanur St. David’s run, Australia Day, Valentine’s etc., which all seem to be bunched up at the beginning of the year after Christmas and New Year runs, which are also brutally popular.
It was a pleasant change to have a lightly attended and therefore more intimate hash atmosphere, kind of like hashes of yore in that now impossibly distant and less populous era, the Nineties. I know it’s supposed to be a social occasion but there is something to be said for being out there on your own, losing sight of the front and back runners and doing your own thing, actually enjoying the circle because you can see and hear what’s going on. Yes, it was all very pleasant and if it was like that because people tend to go away for Nyepi, then I’m all for another couple of Nyepis on the calendar for which they can go away.
Mind you, I should probably not have gone to the karaoke bar the night before, nor drank so many “Bad Weiser” beers, sung all those pop tunes on the karaoke machine list and the spiritually moving Christmas favourite “Away in a Manager”, nor as is required by the Indonesian constitution, “My Way”. Just kidding, I actually spent the evening with my Caledonian cronies in a bar that sounds very much like “The Pickled Carrot” listening to Indonesian men from Gaelic places such as Surabaya sing “If you’re Irish, Come into the Parlour”. Still, it had pretty much the same effect on my running abilities the next day. I’ve got to stop doing that.
So, all up the run was pleasantly cool in an overcast and lushly green kind of way, a nice terraced paddy filled valley was in evidence. The wee Scottish feller actually brought his umbrella from the monotonously blue skies and sunshine of Sanur and chuckle though I did, the little buggar was almost right. The circle was fun with Labia’s Swedish Ogah Ogah float that caught on fire and had to be doused by volunteer fireys Jangle Balls and Rabid Mangy Dog in a rare display of cooperation. Jangle Balls conducted a christening for Papuan Eco Professional, Organic Muff Diver (there’s nothing like an organic muff) and led the ranch hands in a Nyepi-appropriate “Ghost Hashers in the Sky”. The Book Ends did a very impressive “Cock robin”.
Back in Tarunaland the hilarity continued on the way south with yours truly taking constant wrong turns at the wheel after a few down downs. The giggling hardly let up until we witnessed a dead motorcyclist lying on the road outside Kentucky Fried in the middle of the Bypass head covered by his jacket, surrounded by police and “witnesses” who had stopped to gawk. I don’t know why live people cover dead people up as if there is something embarrassing or upsetting about it for the departed, but very culture does it. I’m sure the victims are beyond caring at that point. It was literally a sobering moment.
So let’s just be a little more careful and attentive on the ever more crowded Bali roads next week, brethren and Sustagen, and this goes at least as much to me as anybody else. It could have easily been any of us on the road or behind the wheel. Either way the consequences are horrific.
On on to Creepy’s All Fool’s Day run this Saturday, drive safer than me.
