Wednesday, November 21, 2001

#557(?) VISEGRÁD

COMPARATIVE HASHING

MEMORIES FROM BH3’S "VISEGRÁD" RUN ON 21/OCT/2001

Weather didn’t look very good as we started from Batthány square to Visegrád for run No.557(?). Fog was thick and there was a possibility of rain in the air. Only one hash-car showed up here, so a taxi had to be hired for the carless hashers on foot. But things started to look much better when we arrived to our meeting point at the banks of the Duna. Thanks to the almost perfect mismanagent many more hash-cars (missing badly from the Batthány square car-pool spot) were to be found here, adding up to a total number of 22(!) good hashers. We were welcomed warmly by the Lord Mayor of Dunabogdány and there was still warm pogacsa and a shot of fiery palinka left for us. What a great way to start a run!


So up we went to the park and what we had there? A nice campfire and more food, bacon, and bread with pickled cucumbers. Can it get better than this? Yes, it can! As we were running and walking, the sun came behind the clouds and let us enjoy the beautiful scenery of the Duna bend.

Trail was good, even there was a strange white powder all along it. Anthrax agent? Who knows… Rabies had a couple of desperate attempts to civilize us with his knowledge of history. What a waste of time with hashers…

Cause there was no other M.M. Committee member except Rabies, who was also a hare, I had the honour to be the Stand-In RA. We started the down-downs to the hares and decided that it was an excellent trail. Many thanks and down-downs to Silver Fox, H.E. Mr.J.Schuszter, Rabies and Sigrid. Then it was time for virgins. We had Linda from USA, Gabor from Hungary and two ladies from Munich and one from Austria, which names I didn’t catch. (I didn’t know that I had to write this down.) Then there were sinners, four ladies from the walk, (sorry, my mistake, there are no „ladies” in the hash), and two more from the run. They all pleeded „not guilty” for their crimes, which were something like leaving the pack and pissing around, etc, but, as you know, the RA can’t be wrong!

It was about Hash Hymn time when a smell of gulyásleves came in the air. That was already too much, so our starving pack ran to the steaming kettle of excellent gulyásleves, leaving me with my hands in the air at the opening line of „Swing low…” on my lips. So I got my bowl also quickly out of my bag and joined the line. Finally it turned out to be a really great and beautiful day out, with lots of fresh air, some exercise, excellent food, cold beer and a great atmosphere. Once again thanks for those who made it possible.

On-On

Jarkko „Sir Dickman” Saarinen
Stand-In RA




MAIDEN HARE VISEGRAD VOZAGE, BZ SIGRID

(all the y and z are mixed up. sorrz. Sigrid)

Determined to earn mz Hare T shirt before Christmas I decided to go to Visegrad to assist Rabies, another new destination for me.
Daz 1

Saturdaz saw the lazing of the running trail. Togerther with Silver Fox and Rabies, we cruised towards Visegrad. It was a cold and damp afternoon. We met the mazor and once in the park, armed with bags of white flour off we set. This was a new experience for me. On proceeding to drop the blobs, I was approached bz a group of Hungarian tourists who promptlz asked me what I was doing. Not being able to replz, we were hauled into a wooden hut and told them that no it was not anthrax but flour – we had been warned. One trail down and one to go. As we left, I gazed up at the steep ski slope and knew that I would be running up there TWICE the next daz. Could not wait! and mz shoes were alreadz soaking!

At 7 on Sundaz, Rabies and I raced to Visegrad (BY CAR), and proceeded to laz a "diplomatic" trail - if zou catch mz drift! Bz 9.30, we were back at base to a banana munching breakfast. Thereafter, the Mazor and his wife, together with about 25 others, all arrived. We drank palinka and ate her homemade pogacas. Mmm. Delicious. Over bz the trees, two Hungarian men had arrived and wearing red, frillz aprons, were standing over a steaming cauldron making porkolt.
Then the run! I was exhausted, and decided that walking seemed like a good idea. The views were spectacular. Being a maiden hare with absolutelz no sense of direction meant that Rabies had to ensure that all runners arrived safelz back. Our run was extended, and no, it did not mean the tobogan down the slope on the busz slides, but more running. After about an hour we ran back to base, descending the steep ski slope and celebrated our achievements over a steaming bowl of Hungarian cuisine. It was a daz to remember.

Totallz exhausted, I was in bed bz 8 - the things we have to do to earn our Hare T shirt - on on ZZZZZZZZ.

Sigrid "No Hashname Yet" Shone

Maiden Hare

Sunday, November 18, 2001

BREAKING UP FROM THE FOG

BH3'S "NORMAFA" RUN HELD ON 18/NOV/2001

An ugly, foggy, gloomy day in downtown Budapest, but what a splendid, brilliant, bright, sunny Sunday for those 14+1 hashers showing up at Normafa, who were wise enough to join this high altitude event of BH3!

Slaloming down the frosty (yet snowless) "Normafa" ski slopes the Pack dipped into the mighty mist below only to see the difference, then up we ran across the wood to get above the top level of the haze and to see the sun out again.

The +1 was Olga's & Andy's lovely daughter, Baby Emma, who proved to be the only innocent amongst all of us. After the hares, the prominent returnees and the lonely, only virgin, (another American Ed, recovering from a broken leg straight from the Moscow Hash) every and all hashers got a down-down too. The runners were found guilty for not yelling eagerly enough when seeing flour blobs along the route, so poor co-hare Rabies (that's me…) had to do all the yelling himself. The lazy walkers were punished with beer for flatly abandoning the laid track. Not because of getting lost, they did it on purpose. Sigrid, the walkers' hare has admittedly no sense of directions at all, (an invaluable feature for a regular hare), but the walkers took a different route for another reason, not that. Namely: just to make the walk easy. What an impertinence!

Scottish Hare Sigrid Shone was much more than just reluctant to be baptized properly. Neither with beer, nor with pure water. But it didn’t stop our mouthing R.A. Ed "One Short" Corcoran from granting her a well deserved, bright red Official Hare T-shirt for painstaking haring lately, as well as her new Hash-name: "Zyzy". (Why this polysemantic Zyzy? You know, Sigrid is the one who can not tell the "Y"-s from the "Z"-s when using a keyboard. Why? Only Zigrid "Zyzy" knows. Easyzy.)

The On-On went on in the nearby Normafa Ski House Buffet in a rather puritan way. No matter that on the day before co-hare Rabies (that’s me, again) biked up to this restaurant only to make this reservation sure, by the time the tired and hungry Pack ran there they had ran out of their special "Jókai bableves" bean soup. Chewing on cheap chips we could contemplate and talk about the many other restaurants of Budapest, most of them surely better than this.

Ferenc "Rabies" Domján
co-hare & co-GM

Saturday, May 12, 2001

GIRLS ON TOUR

‘The Good Soldier Svejk’ – 550th run Weekend in Prague 11-13TH May 2001

Yes an all female group of gorgeous stunning sexy female hashers left Budapest on the Friday evening to join the Prague Hash. Disaster almost struck at the Airport when it was discovered that the airport bar had no decent champagne – well you have to get in the right mood. Wine was a poor substitute but it oiled the wheels sufficiently and we were now ready for some fun!!!!

Arrival in Prague was hassle free as we were chauffeur-driven to our accommodation for the weekend at Chez Graham (former Budapest hasher) by the man himself.

Did not quite make the Pub Run at 7.30 due to flight times but arrived at the Pub in plenty of time for registration and Down Downs. Liked the Goodie Bags – Cool Hats.

Got into some really bad company – known as the Hamburg Hash. No girlie drinks here straight into the beer. When in Rome as they say or should I say Prague.

We soon got into the swing but we had to drink fast to catch up but the Czech beer was so good it slipped down easily. The Hamburg Hash taught us some new hash songs. A serious practice was called for. It would have been disrespectful to get the words wrong. There followed a large number of Down Downs. How could there be so many misdemeanours in such a short space of time? OOPS, sorry forgot about the pub crawl. We’re asked very politely to leave the pub around 1.00 am but we were still practicing our songs – did they not appreciate our singing or was it the misbehaving of certain members of the Hamburg Hash. Well it did relate to the words of the song, I think!!!!!! Lets put it this way, there were some hash flashers and it was not related to any kind of photography.!

Although we gallantly carried on singing they put out the lights but worse was to come they stopped serving the beer. It was time to move on and some did to the Irish Bar and then rumour has it to a Striptease club.

Saturday dawned bright and sunny - too bright for some there was a considerable number of dark glasses. Were they hiding something?

The Marathon (sorry I should have said run) set off around 12.00 noon from near the Technical College through Stromovka Park and finishing finally at Letna Park around 3.00. There were mixed opinions on this one – the fit hashers - GREAT RUN – the not so fit – TOUGH RUN - and the less fit – SHITTY TRAIL SHITTY TRAIL. Did I hear the latter uttered by one of our own fair ladies? No great run surely! It was a long one but with plenty of checks and hash singing and there were several well organised beer stops - no mismanagement here - where the runners met up with the walkers but it was noted that after the second beer stop the number of walkers had mysteriously increased in number. The second stage of the run had gone through some long grass and there were few sufferings from somewhat itchy legs- pretty feeble excuse – real reason – they were knackered. Interesting unofficial Hash View was reported. Naked gardener slight exaggeration she was sporting a very teenie-weenie black Bikini but come on guys did you all have to stop and check out her gardening skills?

At the end of the trail hot bagels and cream cheeses awaited followed by the best cookies ever.. The number of Hash crimes must have reached the hundreds. So much misbehaving on trail. Gradually over-indulgence took its toll physical as well as liquid and hashers were seen to sit down, lie down, fall asleep in the circle earning more down downs – will it ever end!!!!! And would you believe certain males sneaked off to watch the cup final. Football before Hash. How shocking. Mainly Arsenal supporters so there will be no more said on the subject..

Time to PARTY PARTY PARTY. Saturday evening. This was FUN FUN FUN.

There was a good all girlie band, much admired by the guys!!!! And hilarious Hash Entertainment. How often do you have to practice to blow up condoms through your nose in about 10 seconds? . Certain hashers from West Rhine must put in a hell of a lot of practice!!!

BHH and HHH joined forces to sing a couple of ditties. MY DING A LING and in the interests of international hashing a little German ditty - translation – HANDS ON MYSELF with full audience participation. We were good probably even Brilliant - - watch out Broadway!!!

There was a raffle and our very own HOT LIPS had bravely ran the risk of arrest by smuggling a very large salami for the raffle through customs into the Czech Republic. When questioned later, she insisted that she had not seen any signs. They were only about 4 FEET HIGH stating. DO NOT TAKE ANY MEAT PRODUCTS BEYOND THIS POINT. Well done HOT LIPS. Where did you hide it again???

It was noted as the evening got into full swing that there was an obscene amount of dancing talent being displayed blatantly on the dance floor. This was justifiably punished the following day by several down downs. Watch out for HIGGINS from Brussels. Where did he find the energy?

There were rumours that the latest arrival time home after the bash was 9.00am and she made the hangover hash. What can you do in Prague until 9.00am? Sorry that information is censored.

Gastronomic breakfast feast consumed Sunday morning in preparation for Sunday Hangover Hash. Prepared by chef on tour – Carol.

There were more dark glasses than Saturday and some missing hashers. Some people have no stamina. They missed a good one. Runners and walkers set out at 11.00 in glorious sunshine. Startled tourists gaped in awe as the pack pushed its way through the crowded streets past the market stalls through the castle district and ending up on Petin Hill. The climb was painful but was rewarded by awesome views of the city below. Hot Lips was in fine form but some bloody idiot had given her the orange parrot - property of PHH which sounded like a strangled chicken. Do I have to say more. Risking arrest a second time it was her aim to make miserable tourists smile which she did with some success but not the Castle guards – no way!!!!! Other members of the pack managed to drag her away before serious damage was done.

Reaching the end of the trail we were welcomed yet again by that wonderful sight the beer truck.

Down Downs were numerous and Hotlips was in trouble again shopping on trail photographs on trail and there was trouble brewing around us as some local ‘gentleman’ was complaining about the noise. What noise? He was getting free entertainment – you can’t please some people. Escaped to restaurant before he had a chance to take his complaint to higher authority!!

The restaurant chosen for lunch had the most stunning views over the city and the MisManagement Committee had even bribed the toilet attendant so there was free loo visits. What thoughtfulness.. Or was it because there had been an excess amount of piss------- on trail and the countryside could not take any more!!!

Ace weekend!!!!

Tuesday, May 1, 2001

FOUR SEASONS IN BUDAPEST

(A nearly accurate hashumentary)

It all started with an email message from the powers that be. It was one of those messages that most people delete because it had the word “volunteer” in it. For some reason I read it, maybe because I had the time, and maybe because I was looking for some new and unknown experience in my life. The purpose of the message was to obtain volunteers to perform military liaison duties in former WARSAW nations. I consulted with others on the idea of volunteering for this program. The consultations resulted in receiving replies such as You’re crazy” and “They’ll never choose you, you must know someone on the inside to get a job like that”. With no idea of what I was getting myself into, I disregarded my colleagues’ comments and volunteered. My simple rationale was that no one would send a request like that unless there was a real need. That thinking, of course, revealed my ignorance of politics and how it worked. So I pressed on.

Two months later, I received a nicely written message from the people who were in charge of selecting the lucky volunteers to participate in the program. What I got was “Thank you very much for volunteering, however, you did not make the grade, so we chose someone else for duty in Albania”. Oh, well, I thought, maybe my colleagues were right. I kept my volunteer status active for the next round of selections.

Then, I received another nicely written correspondence saying “Thank you for volunteering, but you were not selected for duty in Macedonia”. “Who wants to go to Macedonia anyway?” I thought. This was the most effective way of telling myself I wasn’t a loser. So I remained a volunteer for the program, because I was able to convince myself that I’m not that much of a geek and it could hurt nothing but my pride if I get these “REJECTION” notices every 30 days.

A month later, after losing mostly all confidence in ever getting selected, and two weeks before I was to go to Italy for 4 months on an unrelated assignment, I was contacted by European Command to tell me I was selected for duty in Budapest, Hungary. I quickly found a replacement to take my assignment to Italy, and then I looked on the map to see where the hell Budapest, Hungary was. It was the beginning of the most amazing and satisfying journey of my life

I flew in to Budapest on a cold and snowy January day in the year 2000. I was extremely blessed to have a new millennium, another new adventure, and a new and strange environment, all laid out in front of me. I had no idea what to expect from the city of Budapest. And I had no idea what the city of Budapest could expect from me. It was an exciting trip from the airport, filled with beautiful views: Parliament, Jewish Synagogue, Gellert Hill, the Chain Bridge, the Danube, Fisherman’s Bastion, Buda Hills, all passed before my eyes. My new boss, who was driving the “tourist” route, was strangely quiet, as if he knew my thoughts as I took in all these amazing things. I felt an immediate attraction to the city and wondered why I never heard anything about this place before. I later learned that Budapest is sometimes called “The Paris of Eastern Europe”. But, fortunately, Hungarian culture was more acceptable to me than French.

I arrived to my new apartment in the Budapest’s 2nd district, Nagybanyai Ut 74A., Rozsadomb area. I had a fantastic view from my back porch of the rolling hills of Buda. There was snow in the backyard and the trees were bare. The apartment was of good size, and presented me with all the necessities. The next day at work, with massive jetlag accompanying me, I met my new American and Hungarian colleagues at MOD #3 in the Academia area of Buda. They were professional and kept me at ease during my 1st weeks there. The job was relatively unstressful, mostly office work and program management. Our U.S. team worked banker’s hours (the Hungarians worked even less)- a blessing for someone like me who enjoys the nightlife! The 1st two weeks I concentrated on settling in and familiarizing myself with this exciting new environment. I started checking out the Budapest club scene on the weekends and occasionally went out to dinner with my new colleagues. My favorite of these clubs was Beckett’s on Bajcsy Zsilinszky Ut. It was an “international” Irish Pub where British, Irish, Canadians, Americans and lots of Hungarian women hung out and drank huge quantities of Kilkenny’s and Guinness. The place offered live music every Friday and Saturday night and it was always crowded to the walls. I made friends with some British (blokes?), so I at least had a place to go and someone to drink beer with on the weekends. I spared no time in choosing Beckett’s as the bar I would give most of my hard-earned money to in exchange for some entertainment.

As I had some duties that involved the American Embassy, I was also introduced to a sports and entertainment complex which was run by embassy employees. Named “The American Club”, (what else would it be named?) located on Tunder Ut on the Buda hillside, it had a breathtaking view of the valley and the Pest side of Budapest. There was also a swimming pool and I made it a point to go there a few nights a week. It was there that I met Karin, an American citizen who had lived in Budapest for 5 years. She was a very nice and cordial lady. We then began talking about all the great things to do in Budapest. And by fate, one of the things she mentioned was a peculiar running/ drinking group called the Hash House Harriers. This sparked my interest greatly. “A running group that loves to party? Count me in!!”.

Karin gave me the time and location of where the next “running” event would happen, and I believed that I took the directions well. So on one pleasant Sunday morning in February, I ventured out of my house to find this strange group. As I was new to the area and hung over from the night before, I got very lost and after some backtracking, I had a sense that I was very close and in the right place. The time the event was to start was 11 am and it was now 11 am with no sign of any one resembling what I imagined a Hash House Harrier to look like. “ Maybe they already started the run?” I thought. That was not a correct assumption at all. I was just about to give up, turn back home, read a book or do some other boring thing that boring people do on Sundays. Just then I saw Karin standing in this parking lot in Normafa, where the run was to take place. “Good, the only person I know is here”, I thought. I parked the car and met the rest of the group- the “early comers”. It was later on that I found out that Hash House Harriers keep different times than most people- 11am means 11:30am, 12 means 12:30 and so on. There exists some kind of beer/ hangover/ running shoes/ (baking flour?) time continuum matrix that creates a 30 minute delay to the scheduled beginning of all running events. The formula is too complicated for words. That day’s run was about 8 kilometers winding through the woods and hills. On the journey, these British guys were talking about “blobs” (baking flour laid to mark the running trail) and I can remember thinking “What the hell is a blob?” I followed the crowd through the woods, carrying this flower because I was a “virgin” runner, and not knowing exactly why I was involving myself in this escapade. We came to the end, which was the beginning, and we formed a “circle” where we sang songs, drank beer, identified people who violated trail traditions, etc. It was like a fraternity for the middle aged. I loved it. I was hooked. Especially since I never saw this type of fun loving behavior before, except, of course, by children and young teens.

After the “circle”, we went in to Hotel Normafa where we had a tasty lunch. I then began talking to many new and very different people. Colin, the head manager of the Budapest Harriers, was funny and I could tell right away that he was one of the great giving people in this world. One other was Sue, who laughed at my military mannerisms when I said, “Excuse me, I have to get back to my station.” (I had to return to my seat). By then I had a few in me and was feeling like one of the crowd. I also met a very nice person named Lynne- a very lovely lady from the U.S. I had briefly spoken with her and we exchanged contact information. I got together with her later that week and we eventually became close friends. It was very nice to have a non military American to have as a friend there. She exposed me to lots of culture in Budapest and she was fun to be with as we both had a few things in common. We developed a very nice relationship during that short time and I learned a lot from her. The Hash House Harriers group also presented me with many opportunities to meet people from all over the world.

In March, the trees were still bare, but the weather was warming up. We had a St Patrick’s day run which happened to coincide with my birthday and consequently, I became very inebriated. It was the first time I ever ran 5 miles while along the way, stopping and drinking beer and whiskey. And I wondered how the rest of the group was able to do that without getting plastered. It was there that I met Birgitta, a really nice woman who worked at the Swedish embassy. I really liked her from that moment. She was smart and serious, but smiled often, and made everyone in her presence feel at ease. That day was a long one and my good friend Lynne made sure I got home and safe in one piece. I was extremely grateful for that.

April came and the trees started sprouting buds. There were lots of nice sunny days. Some of us went to a wine tasting function hosted by the local wine society. The downtown area was becoming more and more busy and I would occasionally walk there just to take it all in. There was also a Lion’s Club function at the Varkert Casino on the Buda side of the Danube river. Those early spring days were cool and tranquil, especially in the Buda hills. People were getting out of their houses and the air was fresh and clean. I also spent a weekend in Bratislava, Czech Republic, where there were three days of Hash House Harrier” activities. We had a beautiful run through the greenest forest that I have ever seen. It was there where I got to know Birgitta a little more as I rode with her in her brand new car and we had time to talk during the long ride.

In May, the many roadside trees were starting to fill out slowly with small green leaves and the Budapest landscape was coming alive. By late May, the weather was very hot. One beautiful evening, I attended a jazz concert at Kepiro’s restaurant in Budapest’s 5th district. The singer’s name was Carol Cass and she was magnificent. It was there that I was introduced to Tania- also a Hasher. That night was her birthday. She was a very mysterious and unique person. I can remember her ordering a full course dinner at 11 pm, and it seemed a very long time until she was finished. She was the slowest eater I had ever met. I later realized that she was a person who took life slow and savored each moment. Life was very exciting to her and she loved it dearly.

Another character who was part of the Budapest expatriate scene was Clive, a salesperson from England, who later became one of my closest buddies. According to Tania, we were brothers, one American and one British, separated somehow by strange mystic phenomena. Clive and I would carry on for hours drinking beer and joking about each other’s culture, history and bad habits. But we never offended each other in any way. We both knew deep down that we were just enjoying our differences and having a good time. There are not many people who can say the things we’ve said to each other and not get into a fistfight. Somehow, Clive and I both knew that so many issues in this world don’t really matter, but so many people take them very seriously. We both knew what was important in life and we joked of the unimportant things in such a serious manner that unknowing onlookers would think we were in an argument on the verge of nuclear warfare. I confided many things in Clive, and I felt we really knew each other well.

I had other friends in the city that I spent many hours with. Most of them had some connection to the Hash House Harriers. Many of the activities of course, revolved around the growing summer club scene in Budapest. Early June was very hot and it seemed that summer was in full swing with no sign of rain in the forecast. By the end of June, the crops and vineyards were failing from lack of water and all the farmers were praying for rain. I should have cared more about that, but didn’t, as I was thoroughly enjoying the party.

Strangely enough, July was a bit cooler and wetter- the farmers got what they wished. But for some of them, it was too late to save their crops. All of Budapest was fully green and we had a glorious time, especially during the peak tourist season. The Hash House Harriers had a Sunday run on the 2nd. Tom, a veteran Canadian Harrier, was a wonderful host. Afterward, we went to the Marine House in the Var district of Budapest, to see fireworks that celebrated American Independence. It was strange to see in Hungary but the fireworks were spectacular just the same. Colin, Karin, Lynne, Tania, Clive, Birgitta, Tom, and many others I knew were there. The next evening, Monday, was a big bash at the U.S. Ambassador’s residence with approximately 500 people in attendance. There were jazz bands, orchestral bands, and pop bands who played throughout the afternoon. It was very hot and humid and being in the military, it was required that I be dressed in full uniform to include the jacket. That was extremely uncomfortable. Lynne, Tania, and Ed, who I also knew from the Hash, also attended. It was an indescribable event with 1st class caterers and live bands. Later that night there was a tremendous thunderstorm, which forced the celebration to end prematurely. While it was raining, the band appropriately played “Singing in the Rain”. It was such a bizarre experience seeing the thunder, lightning, wind, rain, amplifiers, guitars, drums and very drunken people dancing to the music. We all got soaked, and then the party was ended due to the weather. So we all gravitated to the streets, where there were a dozen taxis waiting to take our soaked and tired bodies home. That night was amazing.

July marched on and our gang never grew tired of visiting the local drinking establishments on the weekends. Some that were notable were Beckett’s, (of course) Old Man’s Pub, Portside, Fat Mo’s, Irish Cat, and a slew of others I can’t quite remember. There was also the Havana Café near Vorosmarty ter and Vaci Ut. A guitarist and bongo player would be there most nights. They played Latino music from early evenings till about 11pm. Sometimes on the weekends, our gang would go to dinner at Havana club in the warm, early evening breeze, then head off to the clubs after the music was over. That month we also had a Hash run at an airport where Paul, one of the Hashers, owned a small aircraft. That day, he gave plane rides to the participants, taking off and landing, picking others up, taking off and landing again. While some went flying, the rest of us, led by Andy, the most challenging trail leader there was, went on a very long and difficult run around the hillside. We then had delicious goulash soup cooked over an open fire. And of course, there was beer there, too. Eating authentic Hungarian goulash soup along with a cold glass of beer is one of the most pleasant experiences there is.

In early August, a few of us decided to “escape” from Budapest and go on a great adventure to Lake Balaton, at a lakeside city called Siofok- a big tourist’s haven in the summer. Tania’s cousins from Ukraine were visiting and we all took a train early on a Saturday morning. We all spent the day on the beach along with Clive’s famous floating mattress that he purchased there. Unfortunately, that evening we had to ditch the mattress, as we looked very silly walking around at 9pm toting a large water toy! Our total lack of decision-making skills (there were 6 of us and no leader- an organizational nightmare) resulted in us sleeping in a park next to the lake as we missed the last train back on Saturday night by only ten minutes. It was then that I wished we still had the mattress, as it was much more comfortable than the bare ground. But we all had a wonderful time, I think. We then caught the first train to Budapest the next morning. There was a Hash that day but I slept right through it. Apparently I missed out on some Hungarian fish soup that Rabies, the Harriers deputy, painstakingly prepared. I am sorry I missed that. The Lake Balaton trip was a very weird experience, but fun none the less. By the 3rd week in August, the smells of autumn were light in the air, and the some tourists were beginning to leave the city. But we had one more summer weekend ahead, thanks to Colin and his “mismanagement committee”.

August 18th, 2001, was the beginning of the most superb Hash weekend imaginable. Colin and his committee organized a blowout where Hashers from around the world would be invited to come to Budapest for it’s 1,000 years of existence and also to party like they never partied before. The 1st night we had a great social and pub crawl in the downtown area. The next day, 60 (give or take) of us headed off to a campsite and hills north of Budapest where we ran, drank beer, got lost, ran some more, ate, danced, and had an overall perfect time. That Sunday morning we took a boat back to Budapest where we later had fun drinking, dancing, playing, eating and watching the best fireworks I have ever seen. Colin and his crew put together a terrific weekend, everyone enjoyed it and it was a great success, to include the nice weather that we had.

September was nice, sunny and comfortable. From my window at work I could see the leaves beginning to turn brown. The change in foliage sadly told me that my time in Budapest was soon going to end. I went out to a few clubs that month and also met some new people. There was one club that I found had American 60’s and 70’s rock music playing until dawn, and I occasionally stayed there until that time. There was also a dance floor in the basement. It was very hot inside, like many small Budapest clubs are, where the cigarette smoke is unbearably thick. Those pub basements were huge fire hazards, especially with no real ventilation. But it was magnificent just the same, except for the nasty smell of the clothes the next morning, whether they were still on me or haphazardly thrown in the corner of the apartment. I also spent much of that month doing last minute antique clock shopping. It was something I had promised myself to do as early as 8 months before, but never got around to it, as I was too busy having the time of my life.

October came with the leaves falling and me getting used to the fact that the wonderful journey would soon be over. But I had one more adventure on the way- a weekend trip to a major Hash event in Venice, Italy.

Three of us Budapest Hashers, Colin, Birgitta, and myself flew in to Venice on a chilly Thursday night. As I had previously spent four years in Italy, I still had friends who were living there. That night we stayed at the home of one of my old buddies. We drank beer, went over old times and new, and then went to bed. The next day we checked into the “Hash Hotel”, and took a ride up around the Dolomite Mountains to enjoy the scenery. The day was a bit overcast and I must have driven the winding mountain road a little too aggressively (or maybe it was the night before) as Colin had a slight digestive accident in the back seat. The incident did not ruin Birgitta’s appetite and barely affected mine, so we stopped at a hillside restaurant and allowed Colin to rest in the car while we ate. During a hotel party later that night, Colin picked Sue up at the airport, and they came back to join in the fun. The remainder of that weekend was full of adventure. We had some coffee at a local café and I can remember Sue being so excited about being there. We ran the canals in the Venetian islands, ate world class Italian food, and got totally drenched during two rainstorms. The following Monday, luckily for me, was Columbus Day, an American holiday, so I did not work. I spent the entire day relaxing and washing my filthy, muddy clothes, which had accumulated from the weekend. I then spent my last two weeks purchasing antiques and souvenirs, mailing items back to the states, and doing all those things that are required during a move. My final weekend the gang (Clive?) organized a going away party and most of us had a great time. The following week, sadly, it was time to leave.

I made it a point to enjoy every moment during my stay in Budapest. The people I worked with were great and the people I met from different cultures taught me many things about life that I had not known before. They came from the entire spectrum of social backgrounds and cultures, and we got along like brothers and sisters. And, like brothers and sisters, we had a few difficult moments, and I may have caused a few of them (not an apology). Some people are still there and some may have moved on to other locations as I did. I will undoubtedly lose track of many of them, as it happens in the fast paced world we live in. And I hope their time in Budapest will remain in their hearts as it does in mine. I will always remember the year 2000 as a time when all the right people were in the same place at the right time, enjoying life to the fullest. I really did not realize the huge and important time I had until it was over. That happens to people often. When we are in it, it is hard for us to see the beauty until we out of it. There was always a strong sense of camaraderie in our wild but classy gang- a mix of people that could rarely be duplicated.

I will be extremely fortunate in the future to have such a wonderful experience as I had in Hungary. But I know it is possible. And after thinking a bit, it wasn’t really the city of Budapest, it was the great people that I met there who made it what it was.

Some other people who I was not able to squeeze into this account who were shared the good times there were Major Mike (my favorite monkey-boss), Dave (Unplugged), Mona, Kristina, Oksana, Hannah, Martha Jane, Eva (Green Goblin), Greg, Yvonne, Carol, Toni, Olga and Jim Pettit (my other great boss). And to all the others who touched my life, who I haven’t listed due to various reasons (aging, fear of lawsuits and death threats, drunken forgetfulness, etc..) please forgive me. And I thank all of you for the great times we shared.

To the Budapest Hashers, On On!

Jim Mc Connon

San Antonio, Texas

May 1st, 2001

Thursday, April 12, 2001

ST. GEORGE’s DAY & EASTER EGG HUNTING HASH

We all had an EGGSTREMELY EGGSXELLENT DAY

by Striptease

Of course, nothing less is eggspected on a hash day. Good weather and an eggxcellent turn out. While we were waiting for the rest of the pack, we were surprised by the Easter Hash Bunny NOT the Playboy Bunny….wishful thinking… close enough….in the flesh….Hash Horn Birgitta Zoltan had those sexy bunny ears, nose, whiskers and those two front teeth (calling Dr. Michael, calling Dr. Michael!)…unfortunately, gray running outfit and not the black br…st uplifting ones that the rest of the pack was eggspecting. Now…now, the pack cannot afford any eyes popping out of their heads cuz there’s a trail to follow, ‘sides, it is egg hunting not bunny hunting…..ANYWAY!

Hares, Yvonne (hashed for too long and no name…should be baptized soon) Ovey, Colin Wing Commander Sadler, Hannah NO ENTRY Rhodes, Tania ON TIME Demchuk and Andy (??) Ethell led the pack hopping with many checks and falsies, I mean, false trails. Andy had an ENCOUNTER with four-footed being(s), fitting experience for someone like him – ALL HASHERS, Consider yourselves BLESSED for the flour Andy used to lay the trail got “SPRINKLING from up above the heavens”. Walking hare, Yvonne Ovey, led the pack for a joy ride on the Fogaskerekü and said she’s got tickets to ride but did not punch any…and, of course, got a Down Down for making the pack do a NO NO. She got us to walk on the wild side, could be walking the GREEN MILE now if we got caught that day! Rest stop for drinks and the incomparable Hungarian Kave before heading back to the park to join the runners.

While the pack were hashing, Hannah NO ENTRY Rhodes had the privilege of laying the eggs for the hunt but, sigh, NO GOLDEN ONES. Hannah, where are you hiding them……GOT THE GOOSE, TOO? Da’ FUN BEGAN……The pack hopped all over the park for the hunt. Anyone who found one was lucky….well, some begged, stole and borrowed from others who had more than one….One needs eggsperience and sharp eyes for this hunt. The lucky ones, well almost everybody, then had a chance to participate in a once in a lifetime chance to win a KLM TICKET TO AMSTERDAM FOR TWO. Harriette Yvonne (soon to be named) Ovey was very creative in an effort to combine St. George’s Day and Easter Celebration. The hasher has to find an entry for the contest, an Easter egg, and to win the ticket, the hasher was given a multiple choice answer to questions about England….educating the pack is an on-going quest. The beginning was crazy…all the hashers were like lamb (another Easter animal). The questions started rolling out and the pack was asked to stand at designated places for the correct answers.

The ultimate winner is none other than ANGELA SZABO.

Of course, if she decides to take hubby RA Les WAFER THIN,

they’ll need a sitter for the twins – ADA & LIDI, any volunteers?

ON ON was at the park’s restaurant, LORD MAJOR ETTEREM, which tried their hand at making the traditional English food, SHEPHERD’S PIE….aaaaaaggggghhhh…better luck next time. Pick out the corn, will you.

THANK YOU KLM FOR THE EGGSTRAVAGANT DONATION.

EGGSPECIAL GUESTS were the Ethells from England, Hash Beer ANDY ETHELL’s FOLKS… Here to visit cuz Harriett Olga is hatching one big egg……..to be delivered soon.

Happy to have our regular VH3 Hasher, Glenn NEDDLEMAN Sibbitt and

LLL NO SHOWS MISSED A LOT OF FUN... BETTER LUCK NEXT TIME.

Sunday, March 18, 2001

Swissair made me come…


to Portugal.

“Use it or lose it” was the message of their latest letter. They were talking only about a free “frequent flyer” air ticket to any destination in Europe, which was about to expire. I preferred using to losing, so I decided to go. Finally I made a good decision, once in a lifetime.

Being an admittedly addicted hasher the first thing to do was to search the Internet for a suitable internash-hash weekend, taking into consideration the given limits, both timewise and milewise. With the help of this free flight I wanted also to visit places I’d never been before. Attending the international “Paddy Bash Hash” held in Lisbon on 16-17-18 March 2001 seemed to be an ideal solution, and it was, indeed. This time I could not make my wife (Lady Rabies, alias Tokaji Sweet) to come. I couldn’t make her to fly with me (she said she was too busy), so I had to enjoy the journey by myself.

The beginning was not so promising. The directions, telling how to find the meeting place nearby Lisbon, came by e-mail from Imperial, a female hashette, who called herself also as the Queen of Lostness. She must be a misguiding cross-breed between that Highlander creature and the Portuguese Prince Henry the Navigator, I thought, but I was wrong, absolutely wrong. The received instructions were correct, the meeting pub in Cascais was really easy to spot, a piece of cake. There were about 100 hashers attending, locals and visitors combined. Quite a good turn out, isn’t it?

The people of Portugal are considered as the most hospitable on earth. Apparently this feature is infecting ex-pats living amongst them. Queen of Lostness (from now on I better call her the Lily of Montana forever Young) and her family (including LH3’s GM Firkin and their kids) were the best hosts I could imagine, maybe better. Everything went fine, from the initial Friday night debauchery in the Beefeater’s Bar to the closing Sunday afternoon spent on a beach of the Potuguese Riviera, doing sand-dune jumping, watching brave surfers and daring swimmers, or just relaxing, sunbathing and listening to the gorgeous surf of the Atlantic. Between the starting and the finishing events all the other things were also almost perfect, such as the LH3’s 400th Rambo Run in the hills covered with prolific, sweet-smelling subtropical forests, or Junior Young Bryce’s priceless T-shirt design, or the abundant Saturday night dinner with local folk and Irish music, singing and dancing, skits and other hashy amusements, or the Hang Over Run by the beach on the next day and the farewell lunch after. Nothing but many-many thanks for all!

Even the weather was close to ideal, good for the local RA. The expectable mis-management sometimes seemed to turn rather into over-organization. The flow of events was faultless, the buses were on time, the supply of food and beer looked like endless. And wasn’t it amazingly careful from this “family oriented” hash to make two separate circles after the first run, one for the tough Rambos and one for those with innocent, little children. (Maybe I shouldn’t mention that later these little “innocent” Hash Horrors attacked the Rambo Circle with squirt guns and splash balloons in the perishing cold, since that was only a minor addition to the chaos already existing.) With my wide international hashing experience I have the opinion that the local Mismanagement Committe should change its name to something else, like Hash Precision Party, or similar. However, one little error was found, they forgot to put condoms in the goodie bags, but GM Firkin had to pay dearly for this absent-mindness. He sucked his down-down beer from one of these missing items filled full, filtered through his own hash horn.

The hashy part of the weekend was something like heaven, not to mention the short private excursions to nearby Estoril, Belem and Lisbon, made with the purpose of “normal” tourism only. I had a marvelous time in Portugal, plus – during the return flight – I could also stop and spend two pleasent days in Paris. Why Paris? Well, staying in Paris is said to be like spending time with a beautiful, young woman, except for the little difference that Paris remains Paris forever. Nevertheless, Paris was another damned place I always wanted to visit but somehow never could, no matter how “frequent flyer” I was in the past. On the other hand I “discovered” a rather far relative living close to Paris, who proved also to be an outmost kind and helpful host, thanks him and God.

Lisbon is not a really scooter friendly city. The sidewalks are paved with white cobble stones, attractive but shaky, and most streets are frightenly steep. But Paris is simply a great scooter paradise. In the downtown you can outscoot any of the tourist buses, even the subway (here called Metro), if you take also into account the false tracks you inevitably make if going into this underground maze. And scootering on surface level is fun, as long as it doesn’t rain. (Part of the time it did, unfortunately.)

What else can I say? Fellow hashers, follow my example! Hash as much as you can! There’s a hash all over the world, always, and host Hashes are mostly friendly. This time even the usually hostile host hash dogs were friendly to me, all of them, without exception. They didn’t want to catch at all,

Sincerely Yours,

Rabies.