So this is coming in a bit late (about a week and a half late...), but
with a major hash weekend on my toes in Thailand, I need to get this
finally closed up.
Hash-wise I felt there just isn't much to add, which is why this post
took so long. I ran with the B.I.T.CH (Because it's Tuesday,
Switzerland) on (you guessed it, Tuesday) where the hare took us on an
excellently long trail through the backside of Zurich and up, over and
around some wicked mountain biking trails in the mountainous hills
surrounding the town.
It was almost pitch black, making an otherwise well marked trail
difficult to follow. I was lucky with a light and a little hash zen.
Durexxell wasn't, zipping right past me in the dark he slipped off the
trail and damn near fell Victor/ia like off the hill. I was right
behind him though and was able to give him a hand back up.
The consequences of his fall, a cracked rib and chipped tooth. The man
still ran...
Afterwards we had doner kebabs then me and Moose stopped by Chainsaw'z
place where he left us with a batch of his 'cookies' which finished
where the beer left off.
That was my final hash in Switzerland, but there was another week
before my flight out. What to do?
Well, first off, the running along the Rhine is excellent and I
explored it to the fullest. From the waterfall to the farms to the TV
broadcast tower atop the large hill across the river. I ran about 8k
eevery couple of days.
What else? Well there was a cute blonde bartendress working at a
nearby place called Champs. She was calling me 'crazy-man' within my
first week there and after a bit of work (re:lot) she finally agreed
to meet me for Chinese food on her last day working there before her
shift. I got the time and showed up the next day to wait...
Turns out the language barrier effed it all up. What she said to me
sounded like, "Half past 6." but what she meant was half-to 6 or...
5:30.
So, we basically stood each other up. Highly disappointing, but what
can one do? Once that was figured out we both said, "Shizen." and that
was that.
On this past Tuesday I left for Bangkok with a flight change in Doha, Qatar.
Now I'm on a bus to Sukothai for the mekong 2008 event. On-On
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Sunday, October 12, 2008
German made
I finally made it to a "true" hashing trail in Switzerland with the Schaffhausen H3. There was just one slight flaw as the trail was actually in Singen, Germany, which is literally right over the border between the two countries.
Bringing my passport (which I didn't end up needing, but better safe than sorry, right?), Moose Diver and I met up with Happy Chappy and Skippy Gonzales on the train to Singen and arrived to see the hares DureXXel and Sweet Maori arriving from having laid trail, arms (well at least DureXX's) caked in flour. Shortly thereafter Swans (a hash transfer from Penang and India) came up, introduced himself and we all started off on trail.
Even for a Friday hash, you might expect it to be a lighter trail as we didn't start until after dark. But, in true hash spirit, Maori went with full gusto for her virgin laying of trail, taking us from the train stop, around the backside of the small town's center and then up-up-up a cross winding trail leading to the top of a nearby hill (i.e. small mountain...) where we circled up amidst the ruins of an old fortress that was the victim of Napoleon's lust for conquering neighboring nations back in the 1800's. All in all it was roughly 8k, not counting the extra half mile I ran trying to shortcut in the completely wrong direction. What I don't know is if this included the bleedin' walk back DOWN the mountain to get to the on-after.
The whole scene (during circle) was remarkably eerie, with (I kid you not) what sounded like a screeching woman coming from deeper in the ruins (we didn't check and the main part was behind large sharp gates anyway).
I hope to get back there before I leave for Asia and take some pictures as it is roughly 20 minutes by train.
In other news, I went into Bern to apply for a visa to India only to run into a major stumbling block. The jokers want 145 franks (roughly 130 dollars US) for the visa. Tag that onto the 800 dollar plane flight and another 150+ to go back to Bern (twice) on the train to give them the required photos+flight confirmation+proof of finances and I'm looking at over 1000 dollars just to get INTO the country.
Obviously this is completely ridiculous, especially since the website said it would only be 60 franks for the visa.
As a result I am switching my plans. On Monday I will set up a flight into a major hub of Asia (most likely Bangkok, Thailand where ticket prices start at much closer to 600) and start my asian travels from there. As I get closer south, if I get near India, I will attempt a border crossing then where I expect it will be much cheaper.
I suspect I will be here in Switzerland another two weeks to shoot for a cheaper ticket from a nearby major airport (Munich most likely). I can't really complain too much though for the wait. Outside of the absolutely ridiculous cost of everything here (which is apparantly made up for with the rate of pay and extremely low taxes), I'm learning some basic Deutch and the bartendress next door calls me 'crazy man' and winks at me frequently enough. I could see living here if I can find gainful (self?) employment after my trip is done.
Now excuse me, I have Top Ramen to cook and I need to check on my clothes washing in the bathtub.
Bringing my passport (which I didn't end up needing, but better safe than sorry, right?), Moose Diver and I met up with Happy Chappy and Skippy Gonzales on the train to Singen and arrived to see the hares DureXXel and Sweet Maori arriving from having laid trail, arms (well at least DureXX's) caked in flour. Shortly thereafter Swans (a hash transfer from Penang and India) came up, introduced himself and we all started off on trail.
Even for a Friday hash, you might expect it to be a lighter trail as we didn't start until after dark. But, in true hash spirit, Maori went with full gusto for her virgin laying of trail, taking us from the train stop, around the backside of the small town's center and then up-up-up a cross winding trail leading to the top of a nearby hill (i.e. small mountain...) where we circled up amidst the ruins of an old fortress that was the victim of Napoleon's lust for conquering neighboring nations back in the 1800's. All in all it was roughly 8k, not counting the extra half mile I ran trying to shortcut in the completely wrong direction. What I don't know is if this included the bleedin' walk back DOWN the mountain to get to the on-after.
The whole scene (during circle) was remarkably eerie, with (I kid you not) what sounded like a screeching woman coming from deeper in the ruins (we didn't check and the main part was behind large sharp gates anyway).
I hope to get back there before I leave for Asia and take some pictures as it is roughly 20 minutes by train.
In other news, I went into Bern to apply for a visa to India only to run into a major stumbling block. The jokers want 145 franks (roughly 130 dollars US) for the visa. Tag that onto the 800 dollar plane flight and another 150+ to go back to Bern (twice) on the train to give them the required photos+flight confirmation+proof of finances and I'm looking at over 1000 dollars just to get INTO the country.
Obviously this is completely ridiculous, especially since the website said it would only be 60 franks for the visa.
As a result I am switching my plans. On Monday I will set up a flight into a major hub of Asia (most likely Bangkok, Thailand where ticket prices start at much closer to 600) and start my asian travels from there. As I get closer south, if I get near India, I will attempt a border crossing then where I expect it will be much cheaper.
I suspect I will be here in Switzerland another two weeks to shoot for a cheaper ticket from a nearby major airport (Munich most likely). I can't really complain too much though for the wait. Outside of the absolutely ridiculous cost of everything here (which is apparantly made up for with the rate of pay and extremely low taxes), I'm learning some basic Deutch and the bartendress next door calls me 'crazy man' and winks at me frequently enough. I could see living here if I can find gainful (self?) employment after my trip is done.
Now excuse me, I have Top Ramen to cook and I need to check on my clothes washing in the bathtub.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Swiss Miss
Damn good instant hot chocolate while camping, but I haven't met any.
So right now I'm in Switzerland, following an on the whim invite from a Schaffhausen H3 hasher named Moose Diver on my final night in Munich.
Schaffhausen is this small (roughly 3,000 people?) town smack dab in I don't really know where the hell I am land that is roughly 3 kilometers from the most massive waterfall in Europe. It's not exactly tall (23 meters in full), but it is a good 125 meters wide and the amount of water that goes over is nothing short of mind blowing. Walking the hills alongside it is the only way to understand the sheer power of this damn thing. Take the largest wave you've ever seen (that hasn't drowned an island and created mass devastation), multiply it by 50 and imagine it continually in the state of crashing on the beach. Immense, powerful, and if I were of better mind, probably scary.
Instead I conjured up the entirely ridiculous notion of imagining what it would be like to raft that sonuvabitch. Nothing that I would follow through on (no death wish here), but the idea is intriguing. Apparently a few years ago an Australian and an American did just that, were fished out of the water on the other side beaten to a bloody pulp and lucky to be alive. Then were promptly arrested and had to pay their hospital and rescue bill.
Been there before, don't plan on repeating.
Well, that's enough of that, time to rewind back to the hash.
Tuesday night, still reeling with a sore throat from Munich and sucking on lozenges to stay the hurt, Moose and I took the train into Winterthur to hash with B.I.T.C.H.3, officially referred to as a non-hash by another Switzerland hash because they don't hold circle and just slip into a food providing establishment after trail (similar to Phoenix's Hump Hash).
The trail however was mighty and quite good. The hare (also a touch ill from whatever bug is going around this fall) stuck mainly to forest trails, but wasn't afraid to venture off into the bush, which led to briars, nettle, mud and fun.
Battled down from the weekend prior I decided to walk with fellow Munich victim (via knee blow out) Likk'mm and we punched through the entirety of trail in an impressive 2 hours. Only impressive because the Drink Stop was hidden out of the way and we somehow passed the runners and arrived at the On-In a full 10 minutes before anyone else. Topped off by them not even finishing trail and taking the tram to the finish from the Drink Stop.
I ate wild boar and drank heffe to get some local food in my gullet.
Yesterday was the Zurich H3's hash, and while I did trail, I can't really say I did the hash.
With trail at 3, I figured I could catch a train at 1:30 at the latest and still swing into Waddeswil in time to hit trail.
Instead I missed the train because the ticket que was so long. No biggie, I can catch the next train and last minute it.
Purchased my ticket and waited... waited... waited... The damn ICE train was almost 20 minutes later than it was supposed to be. As a result I missed the last train into the town trail started in by a good 10 minutes.
Not wanting to waste the 20 franks I put into a ticket to Zurich, I tried to get the next ticket to Waddeswil, only to run into another ticket line issue. I said, "fuck it" and just hopped on the train which got me to trail a good hour after it started. Ok, I've caught up before in this type of mishap, just never in a town I don't know.
I spent half an hour looking for trail (the start acted as a check and wasn't marked), then once I found it, ran directly into a false.
Cursing and glaring, I just started to randomly walk up and down streets, hoping that the rain hadn't washed the flour away and I could find something of trail.
Eventually I did, and started following it, up a long and steep hill, cresting at the top with a hare arrow pointing the opposite way.
I made my way back along trail, was waylaid by a couple falses, but continued to find and follow trail (it was well marked once I actually found it), until I arrived at what I can only guess was the On-In. I wouldn't know for sure though as by this time another hour+ had passed and anyone who would've been there was long gone.
Thoroughly beaten, I walked back to the train station, purchased a ticket back to Shaffhausen and took a seat. Good thing too because about 5 stops into the journey the train was raided (there were no less than 10 people, I swear) by train authorities who were tossing out fines left and right for people with no tickets.
I was apparently on the wrong train, but since I could transfer from the next stop to the correct train and I obviously didn't have a clue about the system, they sorted me on where I needed to be and let me go.
If you're wondering where my host, Moose Diver was during all of this, he was haring a trail in Munich. As far as I know he's still there.
Coming back off the train I stopped by the local pub (all of 10 meters from Moose's place) and had a couple well deserved pints.
A couple ladies have asked me how long I'll be in Schaffhausen, but with the prices here, I really hope to have a solid travel plan to India in the next week unless I can get hooked up with a little mexicano style work here.
So right now I'm in Switzerland, following an on the whim invite from a Schaffhausen H3 hasher named Moose Diver on my final night in Munich.
Schaffhausen is this small (roughly 3,000 people?) town smack dab in I don't really know where the hell I am land that is roughly 3 kilometers from the most massive waterfall in Europe. It's not exactly tall (23 meters in full), but it is a good 125 meters wide and the amount of water that goes over is nothing short of mind blowing. Walking the hills alongside it is the only way to understand the sheer power of this damn thing. Take the largest wave you've ever seen (that hasn't drowned an island and created mass devastation), multiply it by 50 and imagine it continually in the state of crashing on the beach. Immense, powerful, and if I were of better mind, probably scary.
Instead I conjured up the entirely ridiculous notion of imagining what it would be like to raft that sonuvabitch. Nothing that I would follow through on (no death wish here), but the idea is intriguing. Apparently a few years ago an Australian and an American did just that, were fished out of the water on the other side beaten to a bloody pulp and lucky to be alive. Then were promptly arrested and had to pay their hospital and rescue bill.
Been there before, don't plan on repeating.
Well, that's enough of that, time to rewind back to the hash.
Tuesday night, still reeling with a sore throat from Munich and sucking on lozenges to stay the hurt, Moose and I took the train into Winterthur to hash with B.I.T.C.H.3, officially referred to as a non-hash by another Switzerland hash because they don't hold circle and just slip into a food providing establishment after trail (similar to Phoenix's Hump Hash).
The trail however was mighty and quite good. The hare (also a touch ill from whatever bug is going around this fall) stuck mainly to forest trails, but wasn't afraid to venture off into the bush, which led to briars, nettle, mud and fun.
Battled down from the weekend prior I decided to walk with fellow Munich victim (via knee blow out) Likk'mm and we punched through the entirety of trail in an impressive 2 hours. Only impressive because the Drink Stop was hidden out of the way and we somehow passed the runners and arrived at the On-In a full 10 minutes before anyone else. Topped off by them not even finishing trail and taking the tram to the finish from the Drink Stop.
I ate wild boar and drank heffe to get some local food in my gullet.
Yesterday was the Zurich H3's hash, and while I did trail, I can't really say I did the hash.
With trail at 3, I figured I could catch a train at 1:30 at the latest and still swing into Waddeswil in time to hit trail.
Instead I missed the train because the ticket que was so long. No biggie, I can catch the next train and last minute it.
Purchased my ticket and waited... waited... waited... The damn ICE train was almost 20 minutes later than it was supposed to be. As a result I missed the last train into the town trail started in by a good 10 minutes.
Not wanting to waste the 20 franks I put into a ticket to Zurich, I tried to get the next ticket to Waddeswil, only to run into another ticket line issue. I said, "fuck it" and just hopped on the train which got me to trail a good hour after it started. Ok, I've caught up before in this type of mishap, just never in a town I don't know.
I spent half an hour looking for trail (the start acted as a check and wasn't marked), then once I found it, ran directly into a false.
Cursing and glaring, I just started to randomly walk up and down streets, hoping that the rain hadn't washed the flour away and I could find something of trail.
Eventually I did, and started following it, up a long and steep hill, cresting at the top with a hare arrow pointing the opposite way.
I made my way back along trail, was waylaid by a couple falses, but continued to find and follow trail (it was well marked once I actually found it), until I arrived at what I can only guess was the On-In. I wouldn't know for sure though as by this time another hour+ had passed and anyone who would've been there was long gone.
Thoroughly beaten, I walked back to the train station, purchased a ticket back to Shaffhausen and took a seat. Good thing too because about 5 stops into the journey the train was raided (there were no less than 10 people, I swear) by train authorities who were tossing out fines left and right for people with no tickets.
I was apparently on the wrong train, but since I could transfer from the next stop to the correct train and I obviously didn't have a clue about the system, they sorted me on where I needed to be and let me go.
If you're wondering where my host, Moose Diver was during all of this, he was haring a trail in Munich. As far as I know he's still there.
Coming back off the train I stopped by the local pub (all of 10 meters from Moose's place) and had a couple well deserved pints.
A couple ladies have asked me how long I'll be in Schaffhausen, but with the prices here, I really hope to have a solid travel plan to India in the next week unless I can get hooked up with a little mexicano style work here.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Mein Gött
Lederhosen, lederhosen, lederhosen everywhere (that means leather pants, leather pants, leather pants everywhere).
I arrived in Munich Wednesday evening, catching the last not-full train in from Copenhagen.
Just Chris (now Paula the Bastard) met me at the station and we took the metro back to his place, dropping off my bag and setting up his couch for me to sleep on.
I spent the next day organizing myself with a 3 day metro pass and exploring the neighborhood before meeting up with Chris and heading to the tents to explore Oktoberfest.
Unable to find anything that wasn't beyond capacity already, we grabbed a bite to eat from one of the food booths and hunkered down at a wheat beer stand to commence in imbibing and catching up on whatever the hell we'd been up to since Prague's event weekend while taking in the atmosphere of an event that is something like the Orange County fair times eight gazillion. It is almost intimidating to walk around in the midst of tens of thousands of people, almost all in full dress (guys in lederhosen, gals in dinkuls: spelling is wrong, I know), staggering in a semi-coherent fashion around while singing football songs and what-not.
Beside us at the table were several older Englishmen who were doing just that, swaying back and forth, singing some song about beer.
I turn to Chris and say, "Watch, I'm going to try and get them to sing a hash song. Something simple..." turn to the gents as they finish their number and start up with, "More beer, more beer, more beer, more beer...." (to the tune of aud lang syn) which has an immediate effect (just not my intended one) as the drunkest of the chaps stares me right and the eye and says,
"Lennon?"
Then points to his mate (whilst still staring me directly in the eye) and says,
"Issat Lennon?"
before continuing drink, at which point I just turn away, look at Chris and we just bust up laughing.
A few minutes (and another beer) later, two younger Irish lads ask if they can share our standing table, we say sure and we get into a conversation about something or rather. I really cannot recall what we were talking about, but suffice to say it was hilarious at the time.
On our way back out of the tents, I convince Chris that the best damn thing to do when you're drunk (or at least buzzed) is to go into a Fun House, we do so, and I get lost in the mirror maze for a good 10 minutes. It seems bad, but somehow I made it out before a LOT of others did. We stood outside the exit and just laughed our asses off at the absurdity of it all, then headed home to prepare for the first night of Munich H3's Oktoberfest weekend.
The next day I met my boarder at the registration area, picking up our goody bags and meeting many many hashers (several of which I had also ran into at Prague's weekend. Good, people I know.).
We all drank our two free beers then headed outside to gather in a circle and await the start of trail.
It was cold, it was wet, it was so foggy you couldn't realistically see 500 meters in front of you. Still, it was a great inner city run that somehow managed to provide a fair amount of off pavement trail, a jog past the Olympic stadium and a beer check atop a magnificently large hill with an (almost) view of the entire city.
Galumphing back down, we had circle in a city park with circle marked out with tiki torches. Here Jumper gave me one of the temporary tattoos on my inner thigh, resulting in I'm sure, some very compromising pictures despite the fact my member was perfectly secure in my running shorts.
Beer was drunk, circle was held, we were all freezing and so, with a bow to Swing Low, we gathered up our beer and moved back to the restaurant where we all started to consume more liquid libations and procure the rego included meal. A delicious spread of meat, rice and something else that I wasn't sure what it was, but quite good.
I had a feeling that I was going to have trouble with my system over the weekend that night, but with the reservations at the tent the next day I decided to just go with it and drink.
Showing up to the early as all hell start (re: 10 a.m.), we met the pack on the outskirts of Munich and after throwing our bags in the Beer Truck, we took off on trail.
Running past some children playing soccer while the pack was confounded by the hare (we were actually on trail backwards from the start in an A to A snafu), I asked them if I could take a shot on goal. They kicked me the ball and I made a prompt fall on my ass as I had no idea the grass was as wet as it was. Rumple Foreskin got it on his camera. yay.
Then trail was found, we were running through this beautiful farm countryside, with a cut field on one side and a harvester taking in the field on the other. We then went down a trail into the forest. We went up, down, along slick ridge lines and past poking trees. The green was the lushest I've ever seen and the smell of the wet timber was just amazing. I think it may damn well have been the best forest trail I've been on yet.
And then, the manure.
We came around a bend and entered an open area with the opposite side (right where trail was heading around) piled high with horse shit. Not only that, but it was still steaming!
A few more bends, a wrong turn here and there and we slipped under a bridge and arrived on the rocky banks of a wide riverbank where the beer check was waiting.
I could feel my throat starting to go, but damn all, I joined in the song check, drank another bottle and then competed with a few other hashers on who could skip a stone across the river until the pack was off again.
Next up was the monastery. We shortcut a bit across these maroon fields of harvested plants before coming into the inner cloister and across the flower gardens.
At the other side of the monastery we came to the bottom of a very steep hill. It looked like a road, but it was dirt and I had a hard time seeing any car that would be able to climb it without at least 4 wheel drive (6 wheel?).
Chugging our tired asses up the hill, we arrived at the top, right near where we were going the wrong way at the beginning of the hash and simply followed it to the On-In where food and beer was waiting.
Circle was lively and full of silliness, including poor Slap Head's pantsing at my hands when he got called into circle for what looked like getting a hard on while singing.
Given that I snuck up behind him in circle, yanked his shorts and then ran back to my spot, I don't know what the front was like, but from what I was told the look on his face was: mortified.
He pulled up his shorts, walked past me on his way to a spot in circle and slugged me right in the chest. I'll admit it, I deserved it. Rumple Foreskin told me that Spare Rib would've been proud. Awesome.
I went back to Chris' place, showered, changed and then went to the Oktoberfest tent, meeting up with Fuck of Finland and her sister Ball Sucker at the entrance along with every other hasher including Pump Friction and his wife (him a former Vegas hasher, they had their hash wedding in the Littlest Chapel in the West, now living in Italy).
we all found our places in the tent, with me holding post right on the end bench, a perfect spot for getting the steins and half-a-chicken that was coming our way.
As the night went on, we drank another stein (or two), held singing contests with the Italians at the table next to us, and just had a damn merry 'ol time until the end when things went slightly fubar.
I can't say I know what exactly went on as by this point I was laying on a bench getting beer poured into my mouth by harriettes (I think?). But apparantely someone was pushed, Pump and his wife dodged out exceedingly quickly, security was crawling all over and Fuck of Finland and her friend were knocked to the ground in a domino effect that bruised them quite badly (glad to say though they are both ok).
By the time I was sitting up it was just me, Footloose and Panty Free, Sex Reject and Slap Head who suggested a ride challenge.
Sure, we all got up, stumbled to the swinging chair ride and had a blast before moving onto the next bar as the tent was now closed.
I honestly remember little else except that I felt like burping but more than air came up.
I rinsed my shirt off in the bathroom of this unknown place I was in, excused myself from the rest of the group and went outside.
It was freezing cold so instead of putting my shirt on, I just tucked it into my pants and walked to the S-bahn station to get back to Chris's place only to find out the trains stopped running twenty minutes prior.
Next up, find a cab. But they all wanted 50 euro for a ride that should be no more than 10. I told them they were trying to rip me off, I wasn't a sucker and they were assholes, then walked into the main train station, into the Burger King where I used their hand dryer to dry off my shirt while the asshole bathroom attendents were spraying me with air freshener.
I slept that night on the station floor (there were about 100 people doing this, so at least I wasn't bothered by security) waiting for the trains.
The next morning, roughly 5:00, I headed outside again to try the trains, more cold than before.
I waited a good 10 minutes for the first train, then jumped on and took what seemed like a very long ride back to the station near Chris' place.
I slid in the front door, kicked off my shoes and stepped in the shower, rinsing my clothes out and washing them as best I could with my shampoo before showering myself and coming out to get some sleep.
I think it may have been the worst night of my trip.
All of 15 minutes later Chris pokes his head into the living room and says we'll need to be ready to leave for the hangover trail pretty soon and if I want some tea.
I take the tea and tell him I'll meet him at circle, then went back to sleep for another hour or so.
With no hangover, but damn sure I'm sick, I show up to circle while it is in full thrust, realizing that even with my malcontentious evening, I was the only one from my group of four that actually made Sunday's hash in some form. Only after it is all said and done did Sex Reject show up saying that they all got kicked out of the bar at 3:30 a.m. (closing time), and Slap Head made it all of 10 meters before exploding all over the place. Cool, I didn't puke alone.
I followed the hashers for the rest of the day and into the night, being very careful not to repeat the prior night's idiocy. A stein at a beer garden and after getting some chicken with Ball Sucker (a very cute Finnish girl I would've liked to get to know more), headed back into the tent to have another stein.
As the night died down and hashers left, I took off myself, knowing I had a lot of recovering to do.
Now I'm in Switzerland, being brought here by Moose Diver on a suggestion the last night in the tents if I wanted to hash in this country. Sure, why not?
I definitely got sick, and have spent the last 3 days making (what Moose Diver refers to) a Lazarus like recovery courtesy of salad, fruit juice and Ramen.
I hashed with the BITCH3 on Tuesday, but more about that next post.
I arrived in Munich Wednesday evening, catching the last not-full train in from Copenhagen.
Just Chris (now Paula the Bastard) met me at the station and we took the metro back to his place, dropping off my bag and setting up his couch for me to sleep on.
I spent the next day organizing myself with a 3 day metro pass and exploring the neighborhood before meeting up with Chris and heading to the tents to explore Oktoberfest.
Unable to find anything that wasn't beyond capacity already, we grabbed a bite to eat from one of the food booths and hunkered down at a wheat beer stand to commence in imbibing and catching up on whatever the hell we'd been up to since Prague's event weekend while taking in the atmosphere of an event that is something like the Orange County fair times eight gazillion. It is almost intimidating to walk around in the midst of tens of thousands of people, almost all in full dress (guys in lederhosen, gals in dinkuls: spelling is wrong, I know), staggering in a semi-coherent fashion around while singing football songs and what-not.
Beside us at the table were several older Englishmen who were doing just that, swaying back and forth, singing some song about beer.
I turn to Chris and say, "Watch, I'm going to try and get them to sing a hash song. Something simple..." turn to the gents as they finish their number and start up with, "More beer, more beer, more beer, more beer...." (to the tune of aud lang syn) which has an immediate effect (just not my intended one) as the drunkest of the chaps stares me right and the eye and says,
"Lennon?"
Then points to his mate (whilst still staring me directly in the eye) and says,
"Issat Lennon?"
before continuing drink, at which point I just turn away, look at Chris and we just bust up laughing.
A few minutes (and another beer) later, two younger Irish lads ask if they can share our standing table, we say sure and we get into a conversation about something or rather. I really cannot recall what we were talking about, but suffice to say it was hilarious at the time.
On our way back out of the tents, I convince Chris that the best damn thing to do when you're drunk (or at least buzzed) is to go into a Fun House, we do so, and I get lost in the mirror maze for a good 10 minutes. It seems bad, but somehow I made it out before a LOT of others did. We stood outside the exit and just laughed our asses off at the absurdity of it all, then headed home to prepare for the first night of Munich H3's Oktoberfest weekend.
The next day I met my boarder at the registration area, picking up our goody bags and meeting many many hashers (several of which I had also ran into at Prague's weekend. Good, people I know.).
We all drank our two free beers then headed outside to gather in a circle and await the start of trail.
It was cold, it was wet, it was so foggy you couldn't realistically see 500 meters in front of you. Still, it was a great inner city run that somehow managed to provide a fair amount of off pavement trail, a jog past the Olympic stadium and a beer check atop a magnificently large hill with an (almost) view of the entire city.
Galumphing back down, we had circle in a city park with circle marked out with tiki torches. Here Jumper gave me one of the temporary tattoos on my inner thigh, resulting in I'm sure, some very compromising pictures despite the fact my member was perfectly secure in my running shorts.
Beer was drunk, circle was held, we were all freezing and so, with a bow to Swing Low, we gathered up our beer and moved back to the restaurant where we all started to consume more liquid libations and procure the rego included meal. A delicious spread of meat, rice and something else that I wasn't sure what it was, but quite good.
I had a feeling that I was going to have trouble with my system over the weekend that night, but with the reservations at the tent the next day I decided to just go with it and drink.
Showing up to the early as all hell start (re: 10 a.m.), we met the pack on the outskirts of Munich and after throwing our bags in the Beer Truck, we took off on trail.
Running past some children playing soccer while the pack was confounded by the hare (we were actually on trail backwards from the start in an A to A snafu), I asked them if I could take a shot on goal. They kicked me the ball and I made a prompt fall on my ass as I had no idea the grass was as wet as it was. Rumple Foreskin got it on his camera. yay.
Then trail was found, we were running through this beautiful farm countryside, with a cut field on one side and a harvester taking in the field on the other. We then went down a trail into the forest. We went up, down, along slick ridge lines and past poking trees. The green was the lushest I've ever seen and the smell of the wet timber was just amazing. I think it may damn well have been the best forest trail I've been on yet.
And then, the manure.
We came around a bend and entered an open area with the opposite side (right where trail was heading around) piled high with horse shit. Not only that, but it was still steaming!
A few more bends, a wrong turn here and there and we slipped under a bridge and arrived on the rocky banks of a wide riverbank where the beer check was waiting.
I could feel my throat starting to go, but damn all, I joined in the song check, drank another bottle and then competed with a few other hashers on who could skip a stone across the river until the pack was off again.
Next up was the monastery. We shortcut a bit across these maroon fields of harvested plants before coming into the inner cloister and across the flower gardens.
At the other side of the monastery we came to the bottom of a very steep hill. It looked like a road, but it was dirt and I had a hard time seeing any car that would be able to climb it without at least 4 wheel drive (6 wheel?).
Chugging our tired asses up the hill, we arrived at the top, right near where we were going the wrong way at the beginning of the hash and simply followed it to the On-In where food and beer was waiting.
Circle was lively and full of silliness, including poor Slap Head's pantsing at my hands when he got called into circle for what looked like getting a hard on while singing.
Given that I snuck up behind him in circle, yanked his shorts and then ran back to my spot, I don't know what the front was like, but from what I was told the look on his face was: mortified.
He pulled up his shorts, walked past me on his way to a spot in circle and slugged me right in the chest. I'll admit it, I deserved it. Rumple Foreskin told me that Spare Rib would've been proud. Awesome.
I went back to Chris' place, showered, changed and then went to the Oktoberfest tent, meeting up with Fuck of Finland and her sister Ball Sucker at the entrance along with every other hasher including Pump Friction and his wife (him a former Vegas hasher, they had their hash wedding in the Littlest Chapel in the West, now living in Italy).
we all found our places in the tent, with me holding post right on the end bench, a perfect spot for getting the steins and half-a-chicken that was coming our way.
As the night went on, we drank another stein (or two), held singing contests with the Italians at the table next to us, and just had a damn merry 'ol time until the end when things went slightly fubar.
I can't say I know what exactly went on as by this point I was laying on a bench getting beer poured into my mouth by harriettes (I think?). But apparantely someone was pushed, Pump and his wife dodged out exceedingly quickly, security was crawling all over and Fuck of Finland and her friend were knocked to the ground in a domino effect that bruised them quite badly (glad to say though they are both ok).
By the time I was sitting up it was just me, Footloose and Panty Free, Sex Reject and Slap Head who suggested a ride challenge.
Sure, we all got up, stumbled to the swinging chair ride and had a blast before moving onto the next bar as the tent was now closed.
I honestly remember little else except that I felt like burping but more than air came up.
I rinsed my shirt off in the bathroom of this unknown place I was in, excused myself from the rest of the group and went outside.
It was freezing cold so instead of putting my shirt on, I just tucked it into my pants and walked to the S-bahn station to get back to Chris's place only to find out the trains stopped running twenty minutes prior.
Next up, find a cab. But they all wanted 50 euro for a ride that should be no more than 10. I told them they were trying to rip me off, I wasn't a sucker and they were assholes, then walked into the main train station, into the Burger King where I used their hand dryer to dry off my shirt while the asshole bathroom attendents were spraying me with air freshener.
I slept that night on the station floor (there were about 100 people doing this, so at least I wasn't bothered by security) waiting for the trains.
The next morning, roughly 5:00, I headed outside again to try the trains, more cold than before.
I waited a good 10 minutes for the first train, then jumped on and took what seemed like a very long ride back to the station near Chris' place.
I slid in the front door, kicked off my shoes and stepped in the shower, rinsing my clothes out and washing them as best I could with my shampoo before showering myself and coming out to get some sleep.
I think it may have been the worst night of my trip.
All of 15 minutes later Chris pokes his head into the living room and says we'll need to be ready to leave for the hangover trail pretty soon and if I want some tea.
I take the tea and tell him I'll meet him at circle, then went back to sleep for another hour or so.
With no hangover, but damn sure I'm sick, I show up to circle while it is in full thrust, realizing that even with my malcontentious evening, I was the only one from my group of four that actually made Sunday's hash in some form. Only after it is all said and done did Sex Reject show up saying that they all got kicked out of the bar at 3:30 a.m. (closing time), and Slap Head made it all of 10 meters before exploding all over the place. Cool, I didn't puke alone.
I followed the hashers for the rest of the day and into the night, being very careful not to repeat the prior night's idiocy. A stein at a beer garden and after getting some chicken with Ball Sucker (a very cute Finnish girl I would've liked to get to know more), headed back into the tent to have another stein.
As the night died down and hashers left, I took off myself, knowing I had a lot of recovering to do.
Now I'm in Switzerland, being brought here by Moose Diver on a suggestion the last night in the tents if I wanted to hash in this country. Sure, why not?
I definitely got sick, and have spent the last 3 days making (what Moose Diver refers to) a Lazarus like recovery courtesy of salad, fruit juice and Ramen.
I hashed with the BITCH3 on Tuesday, but more about that next post.
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