Bali Hash House Harriers 2
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Made “Tartar” Sutarta
We are saddened to report the passing of our former Grand Master Made Tartar at 11.58pm on Friday February 5th 2016. He was 71 years old.
Made Tartar was a founding member of Bali Hash House Harriers, the club that was started by Victor "Nightjar' Mason on the 18th May 1977, and he was a stalwart of the hashing fraternity throughout his life.
In the early days the hash used to have regular on ons (party) after the run held at La Taverna, the hotel in Sanur where Made was the manager.
Made was also one of Bali Hash House Harriers 2 longest serving and highly respected members.
Always smiling, always polite and respectful he provided a vital link between our club and its Balinese home. For many years he gave loyal service as our Grand Master, the spiritual father of our hash.
The passing of Made is the end of an era and he will be sorely missed.
A ceremony will be held at his house on Saturday afternoon February 13th to prepare his body.
His cremation will be held on Sunday February 14th. His cremation procession will leave his house behind shop no 7 on Jalan Nakula in North Denpasar (on the tee junction behind the bed shop) at 1pm on Sunday afternoon proceeding to the cremation ground at the Northern end of Jalan Imam Bonjol (near the kings palace).
Hashing - The Ultimate Adventure Activity
Things to do in Bali
Every Saturday the Bali Hash House Harriers go for a run through the beautiful villages, rice fields, mountains and forests in what is probably one of the most satisfying activities you can do in Bali. There are many beautiful country areas on the island which is criss crossed by a network of thousands of small paths the villagers use to get around. This is the real Bali far from the crowded tourist areas.
We set off around 4:30pm when it is cool and usually have two trails, for runners a one hour run and, if you prefer trekking or a more leisurely pace, a one hour walk. Hashing gives you excercise (a great way to keep fit without the boredom of that gymnasium), a bit of adventure and, when we get back from the run, a great social scene.
Everyone is welcome and at Rp 120,000 (US $10) the cost is very reasonable for a good day out. All you need will be a tee shirt, some shorts and a pair of joggers.
This Week's Run
The Chinese New Year and Galungan Run will be at Sobangan. This is not the site we usually use so follow the map and the signs.
Last Week's Run
Hash Trash Run 1255 - Waitangi Day Run
Hares: Orful Fik, Muddy Man, Tin Tin Balls
Things looked pretty grim last Saturday as I peeked gingerly through the bedroom curtains and through eyes that looked like road maps printed in Pinot Noir (which they were) at the low and leaden skies above. I spent the morning watching excerpts from CNN U.S. electoral candidate debates featuring Shillary Glintin’, Kernel Sanders, T.Ronald Dump, Dead Snooze and Rubrico Cubio, and trying to read SMSes from my 90-plus-year-old Mum sending us her favourite recipe using predictive text (not deliberately, probably, I hope) bless her furry pink slippers: “Pour 4 pints of hot custard over pre-warmed guests using the electrician and adding sprigs of bread and some food” or words to that effect. Why did I get her that phone? The Waitangi Day Hash run at Goa Gajah seemed like a much more prufuruble propozushun.
Kiwis are some of my favourite people, I met many a vowel flittener back in the day on the road in Europe or the States or on the Banana Pancake Trail in S.E. Asia. They’re great fun, always up for a drink a lark or a laugh; the “chucks” didn’t seem to mind a bit of “slip and tuckle” either, but this had nothing to do with me. I administered nary a slip nor a tuckle, not me, uh uh. It’s always the iccunt (accent, you dirty buggars) that slays me, though. Do you ever watch “Master Chef New Zealand”? “So what dush did you ulict to cook todoy Kum? Lit’s try ut, shill we, eh?. MMM, ut’s Dulushus.” I was curious to see if there would be any sightings of the actual feathered article at the Hash. They’re about as rare as rocking horse poop in Bali, being as there are so few of them anywhere - such a rare species.
Arriving at Goa Gaja, we managed to dig up two specimens: one, Hare Orful Fuk, barely qualified being a German immigrant Kiwi and attempted only the very briefest of Hakas along with the only actual Kiwi present, Harriet Go Down, who convincingly mangled those poor long suffering vowels with the best of them. This, even while doing the Haka (it’s not in English but you can just tell). So I guess you could say we had one and a half Kiwis out of around fifty starters – not a good attrition rate. But a pretty good run.
I like this run area, which is just as well because we do it QUITE OFTEN (throat clearing noises). I like the quaint waterfall and winding jungle trails at the beginning, the wide concrete stairs and the wider fields of pandanu and, of course, nasi. There are some terrific rural sections of this run and at this time of year the Gianyar countryside is a patchwork of stunningly rich and hypnotic shades of green from the deepest khaki to the most brilliant emerald. Somehow, however, the Hares managed to send us past the mother lode of all garbage dumps with a waft so potent hashers were passing out in dead faints and slipping unconscious beneath the surface of the “gott” waters never to be seen again. Mein Gott, it was heady. This must have been garbage central for all of Gianyar. It was such a sophisticated and huge operation, packed garbage (stacked so high as to menace commercial aviation), loose garbage, I concluded they must be selling it. The powerful and rich Garbage Lobby of Gianyar strikes again.
Never mind, the end result was a pleasant enough outing except for the short runners being sent in along the “footpaths” of the most foul stretch of crappy, noisy, exhaust choked hamlet in the Goa Gajah area. This featured a putrifying dead dog outside a down-at-heel clothing market which was located in a pile of rubble. Nice. Other than that, it was a good, green and enjoyable run on what eventually turned out to be a coolly overcast day.
The question remains though: Why are there so few Kiwis? Perhaps because there are so many killers lurking out there these days. As you know everything causes cancer, even close relatives, so avoid those. Stress is especially caused by close relatives. Under no circumstances have sex unless it is with a trusted pet or a close relative when you are not avoiding them. Even then wear protective gear such as a helmet and a high vis. jacket. This also goes for those dangerous visits to the toilet. More New Zealanders have died from toilet-related diseases than Kiwi deaths in The War of the Roses and The Hundred Year War combined. It could happen to you.
The circle was literally fun and games: fun, what with Dancing Queen improvising with a borrowed brush and pan set now that his Bo Peep crook and toilet seat have been stolen (true, amazing but true); and Jangle Balls conducting an experiment in approval and disapproval of history’s cheaters, liars, murderers, criminals and sluts as measured by cheering or jeering. We have a “hands down” winner, clue: she was in a movie called “Deep Throat”. Of course, nobody knew who Jorje Borgoglio was, clue: he’s the Pope.
Altogether, it was a great run and a great circle: Stars of the show were an English teaching couple from Taiwan. The Harriet’s name was Oral Fixation, and the bloke’s name was… something I can’t recall, I wonder why. He sounded to all intents and surpluses like an American but said he was from Toowoomba. Ah well, Toowoomba or not Toowoomba, that is the question.