Bali Hash House Harriers 2

“It Wasn’t Me, It Was My Dog…”

If you’ve ever run with Mount Her and his fully grown Rhodesian Ridgeback, Zola, on BHHH2 (she has the beautiful temperament of a Golden Labrador but trapped in a hippopotamus’s body), you would have noticed reactions by the local populace to her ranging from disbelief to bemusement to outright horror. This is pretty much how it went last Saturday in the Blakiuh “area”, (I only say “this” because “that’s” where we GENERALLY were, but “that’s” a hippopotamus of a different color). At one point we were bearing down on a group of children bathing in a gott and giggling innocently until they looked up at the sound of human and large animal footfalls; whereupon they simultaneously and comprehensively shat themselves.

One little girl immediately burst into tears at the sight of an anjing around four or five times the size of any anjing she would have ever experienced and about a hundred and eleventy times haler and healthier and more well fed, barreling toward her at speed – a massive brown bemuscled blur of teeth, tongue and fur, slavering and drooling inches from this tiny waif, tail batting ominously. I would have had a bowel evacuation myself at the sight of that in the middle of my ablutions and I’m several decades her senior, an adult and a member of an entirely different gender.

Even older members of the local community, though grinning and laughing bravely, were backing away nervously at our approach and the specter of this huge kudanil-like beast on a lead looking like something out of the Roman Coliseum. That’s right folks, there is indeed a word in Bahasa Indonesia for “hippopotamus” and in an unusual departure for this literal, blunt and pragmatic language, it’s quite poetic. I bet you thought something like “air sapi” (water cow) or “babi sungai” (river pig), much as I did. But no, “kuda” = horse, “nil” = Nile: a horse of the Nile, isn’t that cool? The imagery is so much better than the other candidates. It’s unexpected, kind of like if the Germans called a butterfly a papillon instead of a schmetterling. “And vhat iss vrong viss schmetterling?” I hear some of you demand. To which I reply “I vill ask ze qvestions”.

Last Saturday’s run, when we finally found it (a kudanil of a warna lain) was a beauty, for the third or fourth Saturday in a row in fact, we’re on a roll. BHHH2 hadn’t visited this area for some time (almost didn’t again on Saturday for that matter, but that’s a differently hued Hound of the Baskervilles) and I was pleasantly reminded of the rural and uncrowded surrounds. It was good to be back in semi-unfamiliar territory. The valley across the road from the temple from where we were SUPPOSED to run is one of the most beautiful in Bali, untouched and unspoilt by the hand of villa or hotel developer (yet). The temple itself, Puri Dalem Blakiuh, set above the road is a remarkably well kept, and tidy and the view of the aforementioned valley from its car park is a treat. Pity we didn’t get to see it from there. The paper, long stranded and bright white, was ideal for the job and there was lots of padi, jungle and mountain views. Not very much garbage at all, but a tad too much asphalt for moi, and for some reason the anjing were particularly aggressive in what little kampong we did pass through, just as well Zola was close at hand. There were lots of smiling faces at the end of the run, though, especially mine, it was so reasonable a short at a bit over 4 k and a bit over an hour. Ideal for those who like a wine on Friday night and a beer on Saturday afternoon; notice I said “A” beer, “A” wine just in case anyone might be inadvertently led to the shockingly mistaken conclusion that I was somehow intemperate in my habits. I am decidedly not, ask anyone at the rehab clinic.

Okay, okay, now I’m finally going to get to the total cock-up before we got to the run, I know you want it, don’t you, don’t you? It all started when we turned off Jln Raya Blakiuh and were treated to the spectacle of Whitebait in his car headed in the opposite direction looking like he was in high dudgeon after being stuffed around from pillar to post with bad signage, misdirection and an inability to find the site, which (surprise!) is exactly what happened. As we all know the White man, would be more than capable of declaring to himself something along the lines of “F..k this, I’m outta here” and driving grimly back to Sanur. We were therefore totally taken aback to sight him later on when several of us parked on what suddenly became the most congested rural road in Bali along with a convoy of other hopelessly lost Hashers the likes of which included Spook (the map maker, how ironic) and retinue, 69er and Ringtail, and of course Horny Herring and Gudang. Several other Hashers blew by in either direction shaking their heads and throwing up their hands in cars, on bikes, tricycles, unicycles, Penny Farthings, roller skates. It was probably the first time in BHHH2 history we had a circle before actually getting to the Hash site.

Fortunately, Spook had the foreskin to call Gizzard the Beer Master who told us to wait while he came and got us. I don’t know if he ever did but we struck off in the general direction we were told to and stumbled completely by accident onto a newly erected HHH road sign, following it into the site. And there was Whitebait, airily uncaring about the debacle and trial we’d all just been put through. Amazing what the sight of a certain red truck will do for your disposition.

I’m not even going to mention the circle other than to say it rained and Dancing Queen the Religious Advisor apologized that the Religious Advisor could not be present. Sometimes social drinking is the best option.

Thanks to Serial Offender and team for a great run (Muddy Man may also have been involved, really) and so say all of us. See you this coming Saturday for St. Andrew’s day with the recently largely absent Taffy Brigade: Wooden Eye, Disco Wanker and Colonel Bloodnock. It will be good to see them again, and there should be plenty o’ circle fun.

On on,
J.B.