Bali Hash House Harriers 2

My brush with the law that day was a much more pleasant experience. I hailed a policeman and pursued him right into a warung in a small gang in order to ask directions. The gent could not have been nicer and practically walked me to the turnoff to which he gesticulated that I should take. His manners were impeccable and he could not do enough for us: Night and day, these two experiences, chalk and cheese, Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis. Kermit and Miss Piggy, even.

So, about this run thing. It wasn’t a good omen that the beer truck wasn’t there when we arrived at the site, and was even less heartening hearing that it was on its way to Kintamani due to a salah mengerti of triumphant proportions. Nevertheless, Night Jar against all odds managed to somehow find a pre–run small ‘tang with which to pleasure himself. The run was announced by hare D.Queen as having plenty of bamboo and “yungle”. And that wasn’t all. There was also a depressing preponderance of what could only be described as “yunk”: garbage, rubbish, trash, sampah, crap everywhere, and I mean everywhere. I’ve seen some trashscapes in paradise, but this was, well, on a scale of bad to foul, nudging terrible I’m afraid. I can only hope that Pak Widodo is a reader of BHHH2 Trash. I felt embarrassed that the visiting Finn and German students on the run that day had to bear witness to this aesthetic tragedy.

Fortunately the entire run was not entirely thus blighted and we do have to thank the hares for some moments of rare beauty and adventure such as traversing spacious fields and hillocks of grass so tall the paper was barely visible beneath them, that was an amazing find on their part. The river crossings and valley descents were also a great kick as was the wide stone and cement staircase. The paper was consistently clear and the large car park itself was bordered by towering trees through which, later, the violet and tangerine sunset plus the silver slip of a new moon were elegantly visible. The runs, as opposed to some others I won’t name, the week before last for example, were actually of their advertised duration.

So, where were we? In Toungeylingus, or was it Toungielinger, sorry, naughty me. I’m sure it had a proper place name that had nothing to do with an unhygienic act of oral overfriendliness. Why am I so old yet so juvenile, you might ask? I guess the disposition stays where you had the most fun – the gutter in my case. Either that or junior high school, which were the same thing in my neighbourhood.

The circle threatened to be another disaster at the outset but improved as it progressed and turned out pretty well. It was touch and go for a while, but once the Euro-student crowd developed a curiosity toward exotica such as Wooden Eye and Night Jar the rowdiness subsided. You could actually hear Jangle Balls singing Sinatra’s “I did it Sideways”, not that the lyrics were edifying in any way (“And now, your end is near, and so I face the old beef curtains”).

We bid a fond goodbye to Leeky Lubricator and While You’re Down There who are returning to take leeks while they’re down there in the vales of Wales. And we said a surprised hello to Ringless Tosser and Shitty Minge who we haven’t witnessed attempting to ring their minges or toss their shit for quite a while. Yes, it’s all beer and skittles at BHHH2 whichever way you look at it, and we do hope you’ll join us next week for The Grand Kintamani Volcano Run. Be careful up there, bring your winter woolies and try not to get cremated before you are actually dead.

On on.

J.B.