I woke up on my hotel bed at roughly 9:30, a wicked 3 hours of sleep from the prior night's drinking. Thankfully I am pretty adept at avoiding hangovers, so despite being direly dehydrated, I was headache free. Throwing my hash gear on, I exited the hotel and found a local food establishment where I enjoyed a bowl of noodle soup for roughly 25 baht, picked up a giant bottle of water at a neighboring stall and then hopped over to the hash bus pick-up spot to get to trail.
Unfortunately a poorly written timeline in the event guide had about 30 of us waiting for a 10 a.m. bus that didn't exist. Not being sleepy anymore I continued to down water and sports drinks to prepare for my trail of choice: long.
There was a medely of trails available for different hashers. Each leaving at different times and each of varying lengths.
23k ball buster
13k long
8-9k medium
5k short (walker) trail.
Having spent so much of the previous night drinking into the morning, I knew I wasn't up to the ball buster, so I jumped on the long bus that arrived at 1 p.m. and was taken to trail in the middle of Old City Sukothai.
We were all handed bottles of water at the start of trail, the hares being informed by mismanagement that they would not have a water stop despite the incredibly hot and humid weather (think Atlanta in the summer). So, we took off into the jungle, following small animal paths past thorny vines and twisty trees. Bamboo spines hurt!
Clearing past the jungle we entered a massive stretch of rice paddies. Running along the dirt mounds that separated the fields, the clouds broke open and the sun rained down with an oppressive heat that left me cursing the hares for not having a water stop.
Then came the cows, large groups that liked to chase hashers as we jumped over electric fences to follow trail. It was amazing, it was surreal, it really just needed a water stop.
When I started getting a touch light headed, I knew it was time to slow it down. We were about 4k into trail and I paused on a grassy knoll trying to find the best way across the small stream (and enjoying a minute of shade). That's when it happened. I felt a strong shock that damn near made my legs collapse from under me. I had mistakenly stopped atop a knocked down part of the electric fence.
I warned the couple of hashers immediately behind me and crossed the stream, reverting to a walk for the next 5k. That fence drained me of almost all my energy, as well it should. The thing needs to stop cattle, right?
After leaving the rice fields and entering a small grouping of houses, me and my walking buddy turned a corner to see the most amazing sight, a water stop! While waiting at the On-In the hares got a call from one of mismanagement asking where they wanted the water. Not expecting such a thing, they immediately jumped in a car and picked a spot, getting the water there only 10 minutes before the FRB's of the long trail. Quickly downing several bottles I was then pointed in the direction of trail and told it was only about 3k more to the end. With my energy returning, I started out in a jog, before building to my previous running speed to the end.
All in all, it was a good trail that I wish I could have enjoyed a bit more.
Of course the on-in was another story. The beer was relegated to two taps where the Tiger girls were again dispensing. This led to an incredible back-up in the beer line. Combine that with a lack of enough post-hash snacks for the long and ball buster trail hashers and things got irritating for a lot of people.
Then circle.
The ice was lined up, about 10 blocks in all, side by side. This forced circle to be a giant oval with a mud pit for the center. The event runners had an incredibly difficult time keeping control of circle, if only because they spent time honoring themselves and people from their hash, but never opened it up to others. Combine that with the same hash song being sung over and over and over and over and over and over again, "Here's to ..., he/she/they are blue, they are hashers through and through, they are piss pots so we say, never get to heaven in a long long way..."
After about ten minutes of this, anyone who wasn't part of the group running the event simply felt ignored and left out. The Copenhagen hash contingent tried to liven things up, but got shut down by the circle master. One aspiring hasher ran in and put HIMSELF on the ice to try and bring some level of entertainment to the event only to be told, "Get the fuck out of my circle."
No humor here, circle was long, incredibly boring and quite frankly, sucked.
From what I hear, the mismanagement got an earful from many a hasher that night, which might explain why they were having dinner at their own separate table, away from the entertainment..?
The night did perk up though as after eating buffet style Thai food, several of the Pattaya hashers had gathered in a neighboring gazebo and, while not a circle, broke into many a great and unique hash song. It was lively, it was fun, it had beer!
Eventually we all got on the buses back to the Welcome site where the Tiger girls were set up to distribute beer. But, oh, wait! They were CHARGING now!?
50 baht again for a small plastic cup. Well, fuck this, was the sentiment among many a hasher and we all traveled across the street to 7-11 where we picked up large bottles of Chang Chang and Leo for 65 baht.
Of course, as time passed, the night went on, Tiger wasn't selling beer so they packed up and left and the groups dwindled down to about 10 hashers. We joined tables and once more turned on the still tapped Tiger kegs, eventually killing them. Again, not one iota of guilt after how much the event cost.
The next day was the hangover trail at a pool across from the original welcome site. This time the Tiger beer was free and we all indulged. There was food and you could get a massage for a couple hundred baht if you so desired.
Trail itself was literally a walk around the block. It was a giant bloody rectangle in the rain. I put on my feet shoes for this? Coming back to the pool area we ate and drank and were told to shut-up for circle.
Circle, for its own merit was better than the day prior if only for being short. Again, the only people recognized were from the event hosts and the same damn song was sung repeatedly.
Once circle was over, the Pattaya hash decided to hold their own circle outside of the pool area. Now things got fun! They obtained a tub of ice, sat around it and just belted out accusations and songs, passing circle around from one to another like a hot potato. They even gave me a chance to be circle master for a bit.
Now, remember Hasher Eliah, the guy from Asheville who pretended to be Canadian (British Columbia) for the entire bloody weekend? Well I got him on the ice and related the weekend's story to the circle of hashers. After the laughter died I mentioned that he wasn't named yet and if they thought it was a good time to name him. The pack said yes and started throwing out names. Canadian Bacon (it's not real), Mount Him, Fuck a Canuck, etc... Eventually Kunt Foo said "Mount Hee" (hee is Thai for pussy) and it stuck.
Sorry Ashville Hash, stole one from ya!
A gent from mismanagement came over to see what was going on and we invited him to sit on the ice, which he refused then left. I don't know, they just seemed ridiculously rude all weekend. Bah.
After the unofficial kick-ass circle, some of the Pattaya hashers found rides up to Chiang Mai for a post-lube hash the next day. I switched to another hotel where the traveling group was staying and after drinking and bantering over what was wrong with the weekend we called it a night.
Well, actually the guest house owner poked his head out and said that it was midnight and we were too loud, so we called it a night. Nice place though, and only 250 baht.
So, I did the math and the weekend cost me roughly 8000 baht after adding in the beer purchased (because, it wasn't always free), food and the extra hotel night.
That is just shy of $230. By far the most expensive hashing event weekend I have ever attended, not counting Betty Ford 2007, but that one was my own damn fault.
I hear next year will be in Burma. One can only hope that a different hash acts as event hosts and mismanagement, because I will never attend one hosted by the same people as Indochina 2008.
Monday, November 3, 2008
Sunday, November 2, 2008
If Asia is cheap and Hashing is cheap... Indochina pt. 1
Then why on bloody earth is hashing in Asia so damn expensive?
Seriously, across the U.S. and even most of Europe, hashes were rarely more than 5-8 dollars. Here in Thailand most trails are closer to 12. I mean, I don't know the economics of hashing in Asia as I haven't been here long enough, but last night I paid the equivalent of a night in a hotel to hash the trail. Granted you are generally fed along with the beer, but it still doesn't add up.
A bit of simple math if you want to calculate the prices as I write them. $1 is roughly 35 baht, give or take a couple baht. If you do the math, you'll see why I am pissed off.
It should be noted, that despite the very negative tone of this post, I was incredibly composed during the event and outside of feeling like my wallet was raped like the cellmate of a guy named Bubba in a maximum security prison, I met many very cool hashers and saw some great trails.
I just felt it wasn't worth the couple hundred bucks I had to cough up for it.
Ok, on to Mekong Indochina 2008.
I caught a bus up to Sukothai after spending a couple days in Bangkok. I was unable to hash with them as finding my guest house took me exceedingly long, but I did get to meet a few of the Bangkok hashers at Noriega's, a bar owned by a hasher named... Noriega. We kicked back a few beers and chatted for a couple hours before I called it a night, got ripped off by a taxi to the guest house (he wanted 500 baht, I talked him down to 350, turns out it should have cost closer to 200...). Then headed up to Sukothai the next day.
Arriving with roughly two hours before the first night's events, I walked into registration and was basically assaulted for not rego-ing on the website months ahead of time. Well, fuck you, it said in plain english on the website that we were more than welcome to rego on-site after the online registration closed.
I even e-mailed the presiding GM before leaving Switzerland 3 days prior to let her know I was coming and if there was anything I should know, to which I never recieved a response.
This only compounded the fact I was missing the Red Dress Run that I paid 800 baht for on my way in. Sure, we'll take your money, never mind that we've already done trail and are having circle now... Whatever, charity, right?
Anyways, I with rego a complete clusterfuck (from people I talked to, even the pre-regs were having trouble at sign-in), I saw a hasher saying that if anyone needed a room, to go to him.
I walked over, and he (very lucky I don't remember his hash name because I have never been treated so rudely) asked if I had pre-registered online. I said no, he said, "Well, why not?" Then continued that since I didn't register yet he couldn't help me before basically telling me to go away.
Ok, so this guy is a complete dick, whatever. I finally get up to the registration/sign in desk and they give me a form to fill out and take my...
3500 baht.
I see a spot at the bottom of the rego that says if I need a room (great, I do!) I can pay an extra 500 baht and they will get one for me. I ask if they can still do this, they say, "yes." so I fill it in and they take another 500 baht from me.
Total event cost so far (including the 350 baht bus trip from Bangkok) is now 5500 baht.
They send me over to asshole hasher running the hotel stuff and he AGAIN tells me that since I didn't pre-reg online I am basically shit out of luck and then asks me AGAIN why I didn't pre-reg.
Sorry fuck-tard, but I ONLY FOUND OUT ABOUT THIS EVENT 3 DAYS AGO. I know I am in Thailand, but your dumb ass obviously speaks english well enough to understand the words coming out of my mouth if you cared to remember them.
Then he shows me a map of the area and says I can "try here, but you better hurry because the bus leaves in 20 minutes." Then tells me I SHOULD HAVE PRE REGISTERED ONLINE.
At this point I am ready to punch this dick in the throat and beat him over the head with his laptop.
Mind you, they never bothered to refund me the extra 500 baht I paid for him to show me a fucking map.
So, I put my bag on, haul ass down the street and run into a couple hashers who point me in the direction of a better and cheaper place that is also much closer. I go, pay for 2 nights (cost, 500 baht), throw on my red dress under my clothes and run back to the welcome site only to find the RDR circle had finished only a few minutes prior while I was getting my room. Woot...
I go to the beer area for a much needed beer, only to discover they are CHARGING FOR BEER!? 50 baht a cup.
Ok, it's day one, I have already spent 6000 baht and I am getting charged for beer? Class, can anyone tell me what's wrong with this picture?
So, still wearing my red dress under my clothes I get on the bus to the first night's event. If you attended the train to Chiang Mai for Interhash 2006, it was the same thing. Great traditional Thai food, a spectacular showcase put on by the city, speech by the mayor, etc.
This had the chance to improve my mood with only one flaw. No beer at the event. I guess regs were changed recently that barred alcohol from the old city site. Here I met Hasher Eliah (sp?), a chap from the Carolina's who had only started hashing a couple months prior. Having the being young and from the U.S. thing in common, we took a seat and watched the show. Much like Europe, almost every hasher I have met so far is over 40. Unlike Europe, there are a lot of expats with younger Asian ladies for girlfriends or wives. It's a cultural thing, I am not dismissing it, but just making a note. Please don't take those past couple sentences as a negative.
Ok, back to the event.
We arrived back at the welcome site where the beer was flowing, this time for free. There was a trio of singers/dancers on a small stage (including an incredibly cute Philippina of Spanish descent named Francesca who I got the opportunity to chat with later), and things seemed to settle into standard hash mingling, with the one exception being that when the dancers/singers left and the hashers took turns on stage, the crowd just didn't seem to care about being involved.
As people left, Eliah, Bimbo, a couple other hashers and myself were sitting around with the last of the beer in pitchers on the table just chatting into the night. The taps were closed by the Tiger Beer girls earlier in the night. As we ran out of beer, Eliah went to take a piss and on his way back discovered that the kegs were not untapped, only turned off. So, without an inkling of guilt (6000 baht, remember), we turned the taps back on and continued to drink until the early morning... At some point in the night someone asked the now drunk and heavily swearing Eliah where he was from.
Before he could answer, I jumped in and said he was from Canada. This began an entire weekend of Eliah pretending to be a "fucking Canadian, eh!" I will get back to that later.
Bimbo also recognized that we were the only ones left, so he suggested I create a group on Hashspace to celebrate those who continue to drink, even after everyone else has left. I thought up the name, L.O.St (Last Ones Standing) and made a point to create the group next time I was on Hashspace.
At roughly 4 a.m. we all parted ways back to our hotels to ready for trail at 1 p.m. the next day.
Seriously, across the U.S. and even most of Europe, hashes were rarely more than 5-8 dollars. Here in Thailand most trails are closer to 12. I mean, I don't know the economics of hashing in Asia as I haven't been here long enough, but last night I paid the equivalent of a night in a hotel to hash the trail. Granted you are generally fed along with the beer, but it still doesn't add up.
A bit of simple math if you want to calculate the prices as I write them. $1 is roughly 35 baht, give or take a couple baht. If you do the math, you'll see why I am pissed off.
It should be noted, that despite the very negative tone of this post, I was incredibly composed during the event and outside of feeling like my wallet was raped like the cellmate of a guy named Bubba in a maximum security prison, I met many very cool hashers and saw some great trails.
I just felt it wasn't worth the couple hundred bucks I had to cough up for it.
Ok, on to Mekong Indochina 2008.
I caught a bus up to Sukothai after spending a couple days in Bangkok. I was unable to hash with them as finding my guest house took me exceedingly long, but I did get to meet a few of the Bangkok hashers at Noriega's, a bar owned by a hasher named... Noriega. We kicked back a few beers and chatted for a couple hours before I called it a night, got ripped off by a taxi to the guest house (he wanted 500 baht, I talked him down to 350, turns out it should have cost closer to 200...). Then headed up to Sukothai the next day.
Arriving with roughly two hours before the first night's events, I walked into registration and was basically assaulted for not rego-ing on the website months ahead of time. Well, fuck you, it said in plain english on the website that we were more than welcome to rego on-site after the online registration closed.
I even e-mailed the presiding GM before leaving Switzerland 3 days prior to let her know I was coming and if there was anything I should know, to which I never recieved a response.
This only compounded the fact I was missing the Red Dress Run that I paid 800 baht for on my way in. Sure, we'll take your money, never mind that we've already done trail and are having circle now... Whatever, charity, right?
Anyways, I with rego a complete clusterfuck (from people I talked to, even the pre-regs were having trouble at sign-in), I saw a hasher saying that if anyone needed a room, to go to him.
I walked over, and he (very lucky I don't remember his hash name because I have never been treated so rudely) asked if I had pre-registered online. I said no, he said, "Well, why not?" Then continued that since I didn't register yet he couldn't help me before basically telling me to go away.
Ok, so this guy is a complete dick, whatever. I finally get up to the registration/sign in desk and they give me a form to fill out and take my...
3500 baht.
I see a spot at the bottom of the rego that says if I need a room (great, I do!) I can pay an extra 500 baht and they will get one for me. I ask if they can still do this, they say, "yes." so I fill it in and they take another 500 baht from me.
Total event cost so far (including the 350 baht bus trip from Bangkok) is now 5500 baht.
They send me over to asshole hasher running the hotel stuff and he AGAIN tells me that since I didn't pre-reg online I am basically shit out of luck and then asks me AGAIN why I didn't pre-reg.
Sorry fuck-tard, but I ONLY FOUND OUT ABOUT THIS EVENT 3 DAYS AGO. I know I am in Thailand, but your dumb ass obviously speaks english well enough to understand the words coming out of my mouth if you cared to remember them.
Then he shows me a map of the area and says I can "try here, but you better hurry because the bus leaves in 20 minutes." Then tells me I SHOULD HAVE PRE REGISTERED ONLINE.
At this point I am ready to punch this dick in the throat and beat him over the head with his laptop.
Mind you, they never bothered to refund me the extra 500 baht I paid for him to show me a fucking map.
So, I put my bag on, haul ass down the street and run into a couple hashers who point me in the direction of a better and cheaper place that is also much closer. I go, pay for 2 nights (cost, 500 baht), throw on my red dress under my clothes and run back to the welcome site only to find the RDR circle had finished only a few minutes prior while I was getting my room. Woot...
I go to the beer area for a much needed beer, only to discover they are CHARGING FOR BEER!? 50 baht a cup.
Ok, it's day one, I have already spent 6000 baht and I am getting charged for beer? Class, can anyone tell me what's wrong with this picture?
So, still wearing my red dress under my clothes I get on the bus to the first night's event. If you attended the train to Chiang Mai for Interhash 2006, it was the same thing. Great traditional Thai food, a spectacular showcase put on by the city, speech by the mayor, etc.
This had the chance to improve my mood with only one flaw. No beer at the event. I guess regs were changed recently that barred alcohol from the old city site. Here I met Hasher Eliah (sp?), a chap from the Carolina's who had only started hashing a couple months prior. Having the being young and from the U.S. thing in common, we took a seat and watched the show. Much like Europe, almost every hasher I have met so far is over 40. Unlike Europe, there are a lot of expats with younger Asian ladies for girlfriends or wives. It's a cultural thing, I am not dismissing it, but just making a note. Please don't take those past couple sentences as a negative.
Ok, back to the event.
We arrived back at the welcome site where the beer was flowing, this time for free. There was a trio of singers/dancers on a small stage (including an incredibly cute Philippina of Spanish descent named Francesca who I got the opportunity to chat with later), and things seemed to settle into standard hash mingling, with the one exception being that when the dancers/singers left and the hashers took turns on stage, the crowd just didn't seem to care about being involved.
As people left, Eliah, Bimbo, a couple other hashers and myself were sitting around with the last of the beer in pitchers on the table just chatting into the night. The taps were closed by the Tiger Beer girls earlier in the night. As we ran out of beer, Eliah went to take a piss and on his way back discovered that the kegs were not untapped, only turned off. So, without an inkling of guilt (6000 baht, remember), we turned the taps back on and continued to drink until the early morning... At some point in the night someone asked the now drunk and heavily swearing Eliah where he was from.
Before he could answer, I jumped in and said he was from Canada. This began an entire weekend of Eliah pretending to be a "fucking Canadian, eh!" I will get back to that later.
Bimbo also recognized that we were the only ones left, so he suggested I create a group on Hashspace to celebrate those who continue to drink, even after everyone else has left. I thought up the name, L.O.St (Last Ones Standing) and made a point to create the group next time I was on Hashspace.
At roughly 4 a.m. we all parted ways back to our hotels to ready for trail at 1 p.m. the next day.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
European Finale
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
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
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.
Friday, September 26, 2008
How I learned to stop worrying and love the chicken
Arriving in Berlin from Kiev, I found that the hash wasn't running until Sunday. That gave me exactly no time to make it up to Copenhagen to make their hash and return their beloved Kylie, the hottest chick in Copenhagen.
You see, back in Atlanta, via Chatanooga and Birmingham, I was able to hash with the illustrious Hugh Heifer, who had a gift for me in the form of a small (maybe a couple beer cans in size) fuzzy chicken, the kind you would see in a Walgreens or Rite Aid that played a song when you pressed the button on its wing and then danced around in a silly fashion.
He had acquired this chicked, named Kylie, when someone (unbeknownst to him) had placed it in his luggage at Interhash Perth. All he knew was this kidnapped chick belonged in Denmark with the Copenhagen hash and damnit, it needed to get home!
After hearing about my ambitious plans to gallavant around the globe, he asked if I would take Kylie along. Being the somewhat (yeah right?) decent hume that I am, I said sure, why not? Tossed Kylie in my hash bag and continued on my merry way, expecting to drop the Chick off in a pass-thru within a month.
Little did I know that my U.S. travels would take almost two more months of hashing, camping and what-not. All the while, anytime my stuff shifted in the back of my car from turning too hard, or if I was careless in my packing, Kylie would be there to remind me of her presence by breaking out into glorious song.
Then came the airport. Not wanting to have an unpleasant stay in security I carefully removed Kylie's battery and packed her away in my bag, not knowing when, but only that I was now on a mission, not just a task.
Over the next month and a half, Kylie rode along, a silent passenger in my luggage. Coming out every now and then for a brief photo-op along the way. The astrological clock in Prague, the River Liffy in Dublin, with some Oktoberfest ladies in Berlin. I think there are 40 some pictures in my camera of this Chicken with various international landmarks. Far more than of myself (granted I've been the one holding the camera for almost every pic, one of the caveats of traveling alone).
Then the time came. I had a week's lapse between Kiev's Full Moon Hash and Munich for Oktoberfest. I had kind of figured that I would be returning Kylie after the Beerfest, but now was a chance to visit Denmark and return her, eating up a chunk of otherwise spare time.
I booked my ticket to Berlin, acting as a hub for travel to Copenhagen and then to Munich, then proceeded to e-mail and use Hashspace to announce Kylie's homecoming.
Crashspace was procured, a welcoming party was arranged and after three nights in Berlin, I had a ticket to Copenhagen and following an eight hour train ride, Kylie would be home!
I stepped off the train at Kobenhaven H station (there's some missing marks on those previous letters) and walked toward the stairs to see a man, Codpiece, in a Perth Interhash shirt. I shouted, "On-On!" and thrust Kylie in one of his hands while shaking the other. We walked to a nearby local pub where about five hashers were already gathered. Fire in the Ho, Red Carpet and others. Rounds were bought, beer was drunk and Kylie was restored to life as Codpiece replaced the missing battery removed over a month prior.
As we sat and drank local brews and stews, the local musician for the pub brought in his keyboard and plucked away as two old guys (one in drag) sang various classic Danish drinking songs such as... (like I know any Danish, so the hell if I knew what the songs were).
The Codpiece got us all up and we moved on to take a couple more pictures of Kylie in the middle of Copenhagen's red light district. One in front of a tattoo shop with a sign reading, "Yes, it hurts."
One in front of a giant dildo, and one in front of our next stop, "Spunk Bar."
After another couple of beers, I packed Kylie away for the official presentation at the Monday hash and we all went our separate ways, myself following Fire in the Ho to her place where she had a guest room for me.
Arriving at Monday's hash, the Kiev weather seemed to follow, it was damn cold and there was a misty drizzle in the air. The kind of rain where you wish the clouds would simply open up and deluge the city, to get the damn thing over with. Instead it was a consistent light drizzle. Enough that within the first 10 minutes of the hash we were all soaked.
Trail, laid by Her Holynose, was a brief city affair that took us through the twists and turns of the Copenhagen suburbs. FRB's were getting consistently fucked though as the hare continued the remarkable tradition I've run into on pre-lays in the EU where she walked with the walkers, sweeping, and then would mark and re-mark portions of trail as she went along.
After an hour or so of not seeing trail, or coming across falses that came in from a different direction than we were going, a couple of the FRB's and myself just aimed for the On-In which was, fortunately, at the start.
Over the next ten minutes or so, other hashers started to arrive. We pulled out the beer, I pulled out my vessel and Kylie, then we proceeded to jabber about whatever until the RA started circle.
I got pulled in for being a visitor, then I got pulled in again to officially return Kylie home. They started her song, placed her in the circle, then snapped photos until Baby Blow Job's dog jumped into circle, grabbed Kylie by the wing and took off running and shaking its head!
Kylie made it across the world, only to get attacked by a vicious dog the instant she arrived at her home hash...
Fortunately, Kylie was rescued shortly after and with no visible damage. The dog was put on probation and Baby Blow Job was given a down-down for her misbehaving mutt.
Her Holynose was brought in, apparantly this was her 25th hare and she had been reminding mis-management for damn near a month so she could get her 25th hare shirt.
She was given a down-down for being overly persistent, then another to present to her the shirt.
Then I got pulled in again, given a giant drinking horn brimming with beer and was presented with a shirt for bringing Kylie home. Not just any shirt though. This shirt is the one usually given to Copenhagen hashers who are leaving their beloved homeland for other shores.
In short, I was made an honorary Viking Wanker of the Copenhagen Hash! (my High School mascot was the Vikings, coincidence? Yes.)
I drank my beer from the viking horn-taking longer than I think most of them would-before tipping the now empty vessel over my head... who said head?
Circle concluded, not with hash hymn number one, but with CH3's own closing song. One to which I knew none of the words to, but enjoyed just the same.
On-On.
You see, back in Atlanta, via Chatanooga and Birmingham, I was able to hash with the illustrious Hugh Heifer, who had a gift for me in the form of a small (maybe a couple beer cans in size) fuzzy chicken, the kind you would see in a Walgreens or Rite Aid that played a song when you pressed the button on its wing and then danced around in a silly fashion.
He had acquired this chicked, named Kylie, when someone (unbeknownst to him) had placed it in his luggage at Interhash Perth. All he knew was this kidnapped chick belonged in Denmark with the Copenhagen hash and damnit, it needed to get home!
After hearing about my ambitious plans to gallavant around the globe, he asked if I would take Kylie along. Being the somewhat (yeah right?) decent hume that I am, I said sure, why not? Tossed Kylie in my hash bag and continued on my merry way, expecting to drop the Chick off in a pass-thru within a month.
Little did I know that my U.S. travels would take almost two more months of hashing, camping and what-not. All the while, anytime my stuff shifted in the back of my car from turning too hard, or if I was careless in my packing, Kylie would be there to remind me of her presence by breaking out into glorious song.
Then came the airport. Not wanting to have an unpleasant stay in security I carefully removed Kylie's battery and packed her away in my bag, not knowing when, but only that I was now on a mission, not just a task.
Over the next month and a half, Kylie rode along, a silent passenger in my luggage. Coming out every now and then for a brief photo-op along the way. The astrological clock in Prague, the River Liffy in Dublin, with some Oktoberfest ladies in Berlin. I think there are 40 some pictures in my camera of this Chicken with various international landmarks. Far more than of myself (granted I've been the one holding the camera for almost every pic, one of the caveats of traveling alone).
Then the time came. I had a week's lapse between Kiev's Full Moon Hash and Munich for Oktoberfest. I had kind of figured that I would be returning Kylie after the Beerfest, but now was a chance to visit Denmark and return her, eating up a chunk of otherwise spare time.
I booked my ticket to Berlin, acting as a hub for travel to Copenhagen and then to Munich, then proceeded to e-mail and use Hashspace to announce Kylie's homecoming.
Crashspace was procured, a welcoming party was arranged and after three nights in Berlin, I had a ticket to Copenhagen and following an eight hour train ride, Kylie would be home!
I stepped off the train at Kobenhaven H station (there's some missing marks on those previous letters) and walked toward the stairs to see a man, Codpiece, in a Perth Interhash shirt. I shouted, "On-On!" and thrust Kylie in one of his hands while shaking the other. We walked to a nearby local pub where about five hashers were already gathered. Fire in the Ho, Red Carpet and others. Rounds were bought, beer was drunk and Kylie was restored to life as Codpiece replaced the missing battery removed over a month prior.
As we sat and drank local brews and stews, the local musician for the pub brought in his keyboard and plucked away as two old guys (one in drag) sang various classic Danish drinking songs such as... (like I know any Danish, so the hell if I knew what the songs were).
The Codpiece got us all up and we moved on to take a couple more pictures of Kylie in the middle of Copenhagen's red light district. One in front of a tattoo shop with a sign reading, "Yes, it hurts."
One in front of a giant dildo, and one in front of our next stop, "Spunk Bar."
After another couple of beers, I packed Kylie away for the official presentation at the Monday hash and we all went our separate ways, myself following Fire in the Ho to her place where she had a guest room for me.
Arriving at Monday's hash, the Kiev weather seemed to follow, it was damn cold and there was a misty drizzle in the air. The kind of rain where you wish the clouds would simply open up and deluge the city, to get the damn thing over with. Instead it was a consistent light drizzle. Enough that within the first 10 minutes of the hash we were all soaked.
Trail, laid by Her Holynose, was a brief city affair that took us through the twists and turns of the Copenhagen suburbs. FRB's were getting consistently fucked though as the hare continued the remarkable tradition I've run into on pre-lays in the EU where she walked with the walkers, sweeping, and then would mark and re-mark portions of trail as she went along.
After an hour or so of not seeing trail, or coming across falses that came in from a different direction than we were going, a couple of the FRB's and myself just aimed for the On-In which was, fortunately, at the start.
Over the next ten minutes or so, other hashers started to arrive. We pulled out the beer, I pulled out my vessel and Kylie, then we proceeded to jabber about whatever until the RA started circle.
I got pulled in for being a visitor, then I got pulled in again to officially return Kylie home. They started her song, placed her in the circle, then snapped photos until Baby Blow Job's dog jumped into circle, grabbed Kylie by the wing and took off running and shaking its head!
Kylie made it across the world, only to get attacked by a vicious dog the instant she arrived at her home hash...
Fortunately, Kylie was rescued shortly after and with no visible damage. The dog was put on probation and Baby Blow Job was given a down-down for her misbehaving mutt.
Her Holynose was brought in, apparantly this was her 25th hare and she had been reminding mis-management for damn near a month so she could get her 25th hare shirt.
She was given a down-down for being overly persistent, then another to present to her the shirt.
Then I got pulled in again, given a giant drinking horn brimming with beer and was presented with a shirt for bringing Kylie home. Not just any shirt though. This shirt is the one usually given to Copenhagen hashers who are leaving their beloved homeland for other shores.
In short, I was made an honorary Viking Wanker of the Copenhagen Hash! (my High School mascot was the Vikings, coincidence? Yes.)
I drank my beer from the viking horn-taking longer than I think most of them would-before tipping the now empty vessel over my head... who said head?
Circle concluded, not with hash hymn number one, but with CH3's own closing song. One to which I knew none of the words to, but enjoyed just the same.
On-On.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
