BHHH2 Hash Trash Runs 1362 & 1363 A Tale of Two (How Many? TWO!) Hashes BHHH2 Hash Trash Runs 1362 & 1363

BHHH2 Hash Trash Runs 1362 & 1363

A Tale of Two (How Many? TWO!) Hashes

I asked a girl once if she enjoyed Dickens, she said she’d never been to one. Be that as it may, his classic “A Sale of Two Titties” no, hang on “A Tale of Two Cities” has probably the most memorable opening and closing “passages” in literary history Those being of course: “Once upon a time” and “The end”. No they’re not, they are, as befitting the last two BHHH2 Hashes, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times” and “It is a far better thing I do now than I have ever done before” or in Hash speak “Are you?” and “ON ON”. Especially as applied to Hares for the excellent run two (how many?) weeks ago at Nusa Dua: Konkorde, Hardcase and Dynamo, who conspired to set more check backs in the first half of  their run than in recorded human history. I stopped counting at 156. But seriously folks, it was as unique a run as you’ll ever get on HHH2, thoroughly enjoyable and featured of course Serial (accident-looking-for-a-place-to-happen) Offender bleeding colorfully from a knee wound (his Indian name).

It also featured at least one spectacular sweeping ocean and Nusa Dua view, and wait for it (drum roll) The GHOST HOTEL! (horrified screams, chains rattling, “Psycho” shower scene music). How, one must ask oneself, how, self do people from all over the world talk themselves into these oft seen disastrous situations here whereby oodles (I love that word especially when Anthony Hopkins as Hannibal Lecter uses it) oodles, of  money has so obviously been flushed away on the most painfully patently unworkable schemes. In this case there was nothing left but the strewn overgrown remains of what was once a fairly sizable, multi room establishment on a large chunk of dirt with absolutely nothing to recommend it as the location for a hotel: no view, no beach, no majestic mountains or body of water, no close nearby area with restaurants, bars, music venues, shopping – not a sausage, or very thin on the ground when it comes to sausages anyway.

Moving right along, the course was wonderfully cool and green having just been through the rainiest rainy season for quite a while, and sooo quiet, eerily quiet, ghostly quiet. Okay, enough with the ghosts already. Back at the car park we were in sight of a house occupied by none other than Hasher Anonymous AKA “Malcolm”. Konkorde and Hardcase serenaded us under wide blue skies and a fiery sunset with the following lyrics they had put to Tom Jones’ “Green Green Grass of Home” in honor of Taffy Day: “And you’re all very welcome to the place next door to Malcolm” – a master stroke.

The next week’s run, or if you will last Saturday’s run, or if you won’t, at the Mengwi football Stadium car park couldn’t have been (in some ways) more bizarrely different. Not the least of which was a constant parade past the beer truck of traditionally dressed competition Balinese dance troupes, both men and women caked with so much facial make up it might have been applied with trowels. They could have easily been Qantas hostesses, especially the ones with moustaches and sideburns. They found us fairly amusing as well, gargling our beers and warbling the same strange incantation repeatedly: a clash of cultures.

Hares Mini Panzer and Skinny English Bloke With Beard, Incredibly Short Shorts (not his real name) gave us a kind of greatest hits of runs we have recently done in this area. We passed through the Kuburan China and much of that last run from there, plus other highly recognizable locations like the descending shaded path flanked by huge trees with hanging tendrils just after a bridge over a serious plunge, had one plunged. It was deja vu all over again and a great run, but “hot” was the oft muttered word of the day. It was obvious from the ripe tomato shade of Mini Panzer’s Tuetonic visage when he returned from laying paper what we were in for. It was the first seriously warm run of the year and definitely a hat-wearing one. I was hit with a couple of “Hot enough for ya?” inquiries, a question I never know what to do with. “No, I prefer to be boiled like a lobster, or covered in hot coals, flung into bubbling lava.”

Many Hashers beat a hastier retreat than they would have liked, and sadly half a keg was abandoned, as the amount of motor bikes potentially blocking our exit swelled. Apparently, the LGBTQ (har: joke) dance troupes were a big hit. The circle was as good value entertainment as usual, however. Many “Ha Has” and “Rhubarb Rhubarbs” floated above the social drinking crowd or would have had it been a cartoon, which it almost was.

See you at Serangan next SUNDAY (shouty caps) for Organ Grinder and Cane Rat’s post Nyepi run.

On on,

J.B.