Bali Hash House Harriers 2

The Bali Bird Park Improper

The last time Bali HHH2 were actually allowed anywhere near the Bird Park proper, was about 3 years ago I believe for the 1000th Run (of which Yours Truly had the honour of being a Hare), but at which we Hashers were firmly relegated to the car park. The time before that when we were actually extended the rare honor of being allowed into the park to do our business I believe may have been 4 or 5 years ago (time flies when you’re in a coma). It pissed down raining and all the flamingos retreated from the deluge and stood on tables and chairs in the restaurant abluting away to their hearts’ content all over the rezzo floor and furniture. I’m sure they were scrubbed surgically and antiseptically to within an inch of their lives (the floor and furniture, not the flamingos) but it was a bizarre scene indeed.

I don’t recall ever seeing any Hashers conducting their ablutions in the same manner in the Bird park restaurant, rain or shine. It’s possible, I’m not ruling it out, but it is telling that the flamingos are still allowed in the restaurant. (I saw one there entertaining tourists the last time I went as a civilian) but not Hashers, hmm (note: none of this is the Bali Bird Park’s fault in any way. I offer as evidence of this any BHHH2 circle, People’s Exhibit One).

What is quite the co-inky dinky though is that the last run last week and the flamingo-featuring run I mention both contained none other than legendary Hash forefather and founding member of BHHH2, Bent Banana, who we rarely see from one century to the next. At that fateful avian poo and food outlet run, B.B.’s missus, Banana Bender got hopelessly lost out in the downpour and he valiantly sallied forth into the night armed with only my mobile phone to track her down. (It must have been some time ago, it was a Nokia) Eek! I’m ancient and about to die.

No such weather conditions prevailed at last week’s run at the Bird Park improper (the car park up the road) in fact it would have been welcome indeed. It was hotter than a quite hot thing that I can’t think of that’s not a cliché last week as we gathered sweltering in the 36 degree heat, and humid enough to take the goldfish out for a walk. I don’t know about you, but I appeal to the Spanish and Portuguese Embassies to stop / detener / pare already with this El Nino stuff. Please / por favor / obrigado, it’s too bloody el hotto, comprendo? It was even warmer on your actual run. I was saturated, sweating like a bastard, and you know how they sweat. At the end of the run, other more famously perspiring Hashers such as Cane Rat looked like the Wicked Witch of the West after Dorothy threw water at her. “I’m melting”, he cried, and dissolved into a puddle. “Ding Dong, Cane Rat is dead” we all sang. Just kidding, we did no such thing, we put on our ruby slippers, clicked our heels 3 times and said “There’s no place like home”. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

The run itself was pretty damn good for a site that BHHH2 has flogged like an expired equine creature and thanks to Hare Deadwood for a bit of a different take on it. We had rich green and gold mature rice padis, mountain views and a good deal of jungle running with not a lot of asphalt or kampong at all. Garbage was at a minimum for such Southerly elevations and (someone is paying attention) quite a few good checks. Other than the yellow paint / white paint controversy, it was plain sailing. The confusion went something like this: “Did he say it was yellow paint for the short or long?”. “I can’t remember, Did he say that the yellow was for short and long up until the split?” “I don’t know, did he say he ran out of paper or paint or yellow paint or white paint or white or yellow paper?” Typical attentive Hashers, me included, but it certainly looked as if he ran out of pretty much everything at the end of the short when I found myself in somebody’s back yard staring at a handful of what could have been an improvised cut up “Women’s Weekly” or a pile of random bits of paper someone had urinated on creating a glossy effect with no other evidence that a Hare had been within of it 100 mts in any direction of it. Commercial break from our sponsor (me): Here’s an important message for senior Hashers (me). “Have you seen my glasses? Or my teeth?”

Never mind, we all had a good workout and even streams to cross. It was too bad the Hare had to end up on ice for too much spray paint on concrete and asphalt, he did a good, but tainted (har) job. Speaking of which, the circle was a lot of fun. “But Mr. Hash Trash”, I hear you say. “The circle is always a lot of fun”. Yes, mostly but not always. “But Mr. Hash Trash” you reply, it IS always”, because you apparently cannot shut up or you haven’t been with BHHH2 that long. This was a good one. Night Jar regaled us with “Old King Cole” with his “fiddlers” three and all kinds of family fun: “How’s yer sister? Alright. When was the last time? last night. When is the next time? Tonight” etc. Dancing Queen told a particularly good “true story” with a hilarious non-punch line. Jangle Balls delivered a sermon as “The Bishop of Hampton Wick” in Cockney rhyming slang (“quick”, if you must know you dirty bastards). Labia, who insists he’s not a Cockney was suspiciously familiar with the lingo including obscure items such as bushel and peck: neck and stewed prune: tune, hmm, for the 2nd time in one Trash.

So, just to be doubly clear, we thank the Bali Bird Park for all its invaluable assistance. It is indeed a great attraction, and please let us in again, it’s raining.

On on,
J.B.