Bali Hash House Harriers 2

“Fabulously Pleasant”

As we Snoreites well know (people who live in Snore, which is actually written “Sanur” but pronounced “Snooorrre”) …sorry, drifted off there for a second. HEY, WAKE UP, YOU’RE DOING IT AGAIN! Sorry, where was I? Oh yeah, mid–sentence, it never rains in Snore, it f….in’ well pisses down. And it did exactly that last Saturday afternoon, after days of repeated empty threats from roiling and darkened skies, just as the Mirth Mobile 2 was leaving for the Hash. “Holy Jaysus”, as the Dublin T.V. weatherman said, “we were oop to our fookin’ arses in cats and dogs”. It may have even crossed our desks to turn around and go back to Snore Proper (it’s a proper snore), but we soldiered on and as happens so often the heavens dried up completely by the time we got to the Hash site. In fact our observant junior member and (permanently sober in terms of both physical condition and demeanor) navigator pointed out there had been no rain at all around the northern reaches of Singapadu. It was as dry as the proverbial nun’s you know what.

Standing around poolside in Kopi Cina’s front yard in Kebongkan before the run, studying the skies and making pronunciations about the possibility of precipet… preciput… buggar it, rain, like a bunch of Crocodile Dundee wannabes, profound and philosophical observations such as the following were offered: “I don’t mind running in the rain as long as it rains after we’ve started running”. “Naah, I’m like a cat, I don’t like getting wet”. “Maybe we should toss you in the pool then, let’s chuck him in the pool.” An adult exchange if nothing else; you get that on the Hash. Labia called us to order and explained that it was a bit slippery out there with not a lot of ups and downs. Considering the location and time of the year, nobody had to be rushed to Sanglah Emergency Ward having gone into shock. It was to be a 6k short and 8k long, and off we pissed.

I’m not saying there was anything wrong with this run, don’t get me wrong, it didn’t reach the heights of drama of the last two weeks but it was sufficiently pleasant and a break from the long drives and heart-in–mouth escapades that characterized those most recent outings on Bali HHH2. It did indeed rain, just as we were rounding on an expansive view of the beautiful Ayung river valley from the road above, a highlight but a short lived one if you didn’t want to stand there getting saturated. I didn’t, all of a sudden, despite my pre-run macho rain boasts and scurried off down the asphalt into the relative protection of an overhanging canopy of trees. Alas, even this was eventually futile and heading out into open paddy, I became gradually more sopping (as the actress said to the Bishop).

Jogging through knee-high mature golden topped and blindingly emerald rice plants beneath grey clouds scudding across intermittently blue (well, ish) and white skies, is hardly what you’d call torturous. With the cool accompanying breezes, one might almost be moved to declare that it was “nice”. Yes, I used the “n” word and I’m not ashamed of it, so there. Back at Kopi Cina’s place it was very much like a garden party with little snackie-poos dotted around on poolside lawn tables. It could have been in Vaucluse, Peppermint Grove, Laguna Beach or Chipping Norton (except for smelly, unsightly singlet wearing men guzzling beer). It was actually quite …. no I can’t bring myself to use it twice in one lifetime.

It was a cozy sized circle when Labia finally managed to hector us into some semblance of one. Many of us were apparently too comfy in patio chairs under garden brollies to raise any concern whatsoever in these roughneck and déclassé goings-on (humph). Virgins were dispensed with wetly, and His Grandioseness Night Jar delivered a howlingly hilarious set piece concerning shipwrecked sailors being threatened with natives brandishing enormous penises and balancing all manner of barang upon them. We have heard this before, but not for a long while and this delivery was particularly all out, flat out funnier than shit. Somebody mentioned behind their hand that if this was videoed and posted on “You Tube” it would go more viral than “Gangnam Style”. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least. What does surprise me is that it hasn’t been done yet. What a treat! There are times standing in the Hash circle that I’m convinced I’m privy to some rare form of esoteric and traditional performance art that you just won’t see anywhere else on this green earth, especially when His Grossness is involved. Perhaps Sir Richard Attenborough would be interested, or David Attenborough, but I think he’s the dead one, so he might not be interested.

All in all, a jolly good time and run was had by all, so thanks to our host Kopi Cina and the inevitable Muddy Man (Mr. Kiss Kiss Bambang) and we’ll see you at a Hash coming to a run site near, or not, you.

On on,
J.B.