BHHH2 TRASH RUN for #1326 Pura Taman Pule Mas, Ubud

BHHH2 TRASH RUN for #1326 Pura Taman Pule Mas, Ubud

BHHH2 TRASH RUN for #1326 Pura Taman Pule Mas, Ubud

Transcendental Medication

BHHH2 TRASH RUN for #1326 Pura Taman Pule Mas, UbudI’m not the world’s greatest authority on trees, like a lot of things I’m not the world’s greatest authority on. In fact I’m a bit of a tree ignoramus so it never really came to my attention that there are indeed Bodhi trees in Bali. I can hear your astounded derogatory howls and catcalls from here: “Of course there are Bodhi trees in Bali you fool, Buddha himself smuggled the cuttings in from India on Air Asia in the 12th century, you moron”. “Oh”, I mumble in red faced embarrassment. “Were they in his boogie board bag?”

But seriously folks, we were gathered under just such a tree, a fine specimen too of the genuine heart shaped leaf bearing, gnarled branch and root growing, billowing, spreading, at least fifty feet tall and 75 years old if it was a day or a foot article last Saturday in, of all places, a whopping great temple, slash, taman car park of which I have never seen the same ridiculously accommodating size anywhere on this Island of Gods. Yes indeedy, the Ficus Religiosa, the sacred fig itself; I almost expected to see a saffron clad Bodhisattva figure striking up the 14th Lotus with begging bowl at the foot of this arboreal apparition rather than, say for example, the Bali Hash 2 beer truck. It was a somewhat incongruous sight, especially in a car park with marked spaces for at least fifty vehicles. If Buddha ever does show up at this site for a spot of Hashing and a piss up, he won’t have any trouble parking his Ferrari, sorry, Avanza.

The run… well, it had its moments. The standout one for me was crossing a berserkly busy jalan with a fellow Hasher of fairly impressive proportions who blocked my view of an oncoming cewek motorcyclist on the right, upon whom I in turn, very nearly fell in a possibly fatal embrace but was saved from performing both this clever trick and then stumbling forward into bus traveling at speed from the opposite direction by that very same generously built Hasher. No names will be mentioned but I think the motorcyclist was Wayan, possibly Made or Ketut. Komang? I can’t be certain. It was just another one of my typically inept if not manic demonstrations of physical clumsiness. One of these days… Anyhow, I definitely owe the above Hasher a beer and fully intend to “buy” him one next week, if I make it through the week.

Another arresting interlude on last week’s Hash was a gathering of locals around a fish pond made of rocks in mid-paddy territory, which was topped off by a decent sized, colorfully if not gaudily painted statue of, yes him again, a young and thinnish seated Buddha. There seemed to be some kind of semi-mystical theme unfolding on last week’s Hash, or at least did seem to be until I noticed a matching gaily painted wooden and iron table and chair setting for six smack in the middle of this diorama. This was eschewed by all of the human attendees who preferred to squat on the ground or sit on the rock pond surround and ignore the furniture. For far from the first time on the Hash, I walked away from the scene scratching my head and thinking Whiskey, Tango, Foxtrot? Over?

It was basically a pretty good run, though. There was plenty of open paddy and palm territory and and there was plenty of paper. Personally I could have done without the slog through crazy urban main streets of the Ubud suburbs, but Hare Tongkat Madura assured us he couldn’t lay it any other way to get us to where he wanted to take us – fair enough, I guess. Who am I to argue with such unassailable logic? I mean, who am I? If you know the answer to this question, can you please drop me a line and let me know what it is? Thanks.

Safely back under the Bodhi Tree in trance-like, medicative, lager inspired states, we bore witness to newly minted Hash Master and young, thinnish, standing Buddha look-alike Muddy Man acquitting himself admirably on his maiden appearance. In fact he was the spitting image of Siddartha Gatuama with a crew cut, Bali Hai beer in hand and Hash shorts. Any true follower would be hard pressed to tell the difference. Wooden Eye, another Buddha impersonator, imparted profound cosmic knowledge with a spirited and Spiritual rendition of “Satu Orang Pergi ke Warung”, an ode to higher enlightenment featuring excessive beer consumption and trans-sexual prostitution as subjects upon which to meditate. A (brown) Third Eye may well have had figured in this uplifting tale as well, depending on the state of your cakra and the level of your journey to the divine void.

But of course, I jest. It was the usual irreverent and bawdy beer soaked sacrilege, and yes, the Hash (or the Trash for that matter) is no place to take anything faintly seriously. That’s what we like about it. So we’ll see you all again next week in a location T.B.A. (The Bali Area).

On on,

J.B.

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