Saturday saw us head off for a run that is longer and more challenging
than our weekday running.
Claire, having been very nervous about making this jump, did
brilliantly, completing the 10km course with a 1000ft climb in a decent time. I
did the longer 14km+ course, and came in the first few back. So far, so good.
Usually, big runs like this have showers at the end. This time,
the washing facilities consisted of a river.
So, 50 sweaty runners picked their way down the rocky bank and gingerly washed
in the ‘bracing’ water. Our tiny towels were inadequate for shielding our
modesty, and while trying to subtly wriggle into some pants, I half-fell in the
water, stubbed my toe, dropped some clothes in the river and full-frontally flashed
at least 3 strangers.The indignity, however, had barely begun. Hashers all get ‘christened’ with a hash name eventually. In the rugby-club-like booze fining fest (‘the circle’) there was much banter about Claire being the breadwinner. The locals nickname expat wives who don’t work, hire help, lunch, have massages, drink and bitch, tai tais. Recently, expats have begun to jokingly refer to people like me as ‘guy tais’. And so, as the drink flowed, momentum grew to christen me as ‘guy tai’. Could be worse – most names are shockingly rude. A non-sexual name is a bonus.
The christening involved kneeling in the middle of the circle, while an organiser interrogated me about whether I could live up to this name. After nervously agreeing that I could, she sealed the deal in the traditional way: spraying a bottle of Tsingtsao all over my face. Some went in my ear.
Guy tai: Dignity personified.
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