The Hash

In an effort to keep its Expats from going off the deep end once they spend thousands to get them to foreign countries, Exxon/Mobil arranges for some little morale-boosting get-acquainted activities. One such activity was a day-long tour of the island by a lovely young girl named Valerie. When Valerie called one day to get an idea of the kinds of things we liked to do so she could tailor our tour for us, I mentioned that I was a runner. She told me to check out Hash.

'Hashers' are a self-described group of 'Drinkers with a Running Problem.' The front page of their site shows a big group of people slogging through a swamp in the middle of a jungle. Seemed intriguing. Also seemed prudent to wait for my old running shoes to arrive from overseas.

Phil and I headed out yesterday for our first Hash. The website directions showed a park near the highway - our cabbie was annoyed by the lack of an address. We walked up to the friendliest group of whackos I have ever seen. The 'Grand Master' was a tall skinny guy who looked like the Cat in the Hat. We met a young Swedish girl who is on stopover here; she is taking a break from riding her bike around the world. She has been at it for 7 months and figures she has 11 months to go. Another guy likes to bike too - his favorite ride was the first checkpoint on Mount Everest. One lady was a walker, another older guy was a run/walker. Some were new at this, some had been doing it for years. Most have hashed in more than one country. We were dubbed Virgins, and spent the next 3 hours getting ribbed for our virginity.

The object of the Hash is to follow a trail laid down by 'Hares.' All the runners in the group are dubbed 'Hounds' and spend the next hour or so following a trail of toilet paper stuck to trees in the jungle - we ran, swam, climbed and got lost a couple times. Phil had to haul an old guy out of a hole he had found himself caught in. We came out of the jungle wet, smelly, and hot; some of us were even bleeding. It was getting dark, and we had to stick together so the monkeys would leave us alone. At the end of the line, we rested, drank a bunch of water, then gathered in a circle where the Cat in the Hat poked fun at most everybody (in rhyme...I am dead on with my nicknames yet again...), everybody sang a little song, and we challenged each other to drink beer that was poured into cups. We called a cab when we were done, but the cabbie took one look at us and drove away - apparently a gathering of more than 3 people is illegal in Singapore, plus we looked like hell and he probably didn't want us in his cab. We hitched a ride with fellow hashers. It was, by far, the most fun I have had since we got here.

Next month is the 'Red Dress Run.' Apparently everyone, men included, puts on a red dress and we run through the streets of the city. I plan to attend. What the heck - I may make a name for myself yet...