image001Democracy is involved in attribution of power; Constitutionalism attends to restriction of power; Republicanism works out things of power-sharing. None of these three elements is dispensable.

In terms of local lunar calendar, the fifteenth day of Spring Festival is the last day to be celebrated with firecrackers, just right on Thursday night, thirteen hashers trudge through labyrinthine hutongs where fulminant fireworks at all places lighten the darkness and resound through the skies, after pungent gunpowder tang scatters about and billowing smoke arises, gazing upon festal and troublemaking sparklers blasting off through close-set electric cables overhead alleyways, then leaving behind a shroud of red paperscraps and remnants of a variety of fireworks on the ground everywhere. Some folks fight shy of it in fear, some take delight in detonating it, most as beholders become accustomed to watch a live show, in this way to have a good time, might as well be looked as a vent upon indignation or bigotry of ignorance.

Dry Hole is elected as first harrier by spinning a bottle of flour on the ground by Chokes One Out as GM in deep hutongs in accordance to a routine of Full Moon Hash. After DH slopes off later, all start to chase after him. Untold on rights and lefts in twisted hutongs, from time to time, there are some white lime powder that almost mislead the way for the hashers, once in a while, landing a wide busy avenue and street, shortly plunging into mazy quiet hutongs neither here nor there. The several rise to the occasion to ferret out the floured trail such as Brussel from Brussel who disappeared for a couple of years, Transylvestite, Pickle Boy and so on. Warm-hearted local and traveler point out the whereabouts by the way, turning left to eye DH standing in front of a petite supermarket as first beer stop in a lane. In a while, four walkers kithe their mooching speed to catch up the runners. Karate and Just Sonny are thrilled to bring the conversation round to the hashers; Just Toy and virgins whisper aside; Just Mike is picked up by the bottle for second harrier and lances into other dense pattern of hutongs.

At the drop of a hat, running along a hustling street, a mark of Open Check leads up to a throng business area, clear-cut flour speaks its high-mojo stillness of sharp contrast to boxed-up Houhai bar streets to channelize a trail along with the bank of lake at large, merely three hashers going through a floured trail to hit second beer stop like DH, PB and Comes On Vacation, waiting for others by having taste for a nocturne that a row of streetlamps shape into inverted image in water, at intervals, the firecrackers in a distance burst into expressive bloom in mid-air and echo around. Functional WeChat on phones connects the lost hashers to gather from another trail for a little drink, for example, Bearded Clam and some virgins. Then taking the unmarked trail to return to home restaurant by the seat of one’s pants and part of backtracking, yet don’t forget to give a cry of joy to signal the hashers to follow up in streets and alleys, on a quick right, reaching at finishing point where some have carpetbagged, drops of perspiration stand out on some’s foreheads.

A genial circle is established as a furor colligendi of big time. Five virgins and a few long-time-no-sees in turns are hailed in the circle for a libation in high glee at other’s sally. DH glows with passion to belt out diverse Hash songs for what most hashers’s personalia are shoved out by his responsive nature a wave by a wave; an inconceivable moment is that our dogged whipper-in, BfB, who races back out of puff, all at once, his lovable perseverance clocks up an onsite ebullition in howling with laughter and scream. As a result, all shriek over a bright full moon for an invigoration and an appreciation. Eight hashers gormandise a distinctive seafood specialty in a quaint environment till midnight.

On Sunday hashing for a Woman Day, PM2.5 index hovers around 300 in windy weather. Thirty-one hashers, conceiving an affection for which not only the men love the ladies, but also to make the women love the ladies, pile into a convivial matrix with each wearing a piece of pink ribbon as three leverets’s an originality. Bowknot hairclip caps Comes on Vacation for a coronet; Mohican hairstyle kindles the head of Blow Job; Pinkish Dazed and Confused for GM standing at high place yells out a preparation of joyous journey; six virgins are required to step in a circle for learning a rule by Red Snatcher as leveret, including three visiting hashers from Scotland like Molly, Henpected and Ed the Veg. And CoV for RA blesses the leverets and hashing trail; Crash Test Dummy is invited to be walking leveret on the spot; at the outset, Lost in Marks and Spencer leads all into a small alley, soon have to be on back by second marks called Oh Shit. Just Yogi as leveret hints at a direction out of all directions until Pickle Boy bawls off his head for a mark into a residential area.

Just Byron encounters a mark still does not get used to shout it out; Dry Hole in fluorescent yellow T-shirt tethering Puppy rushes ahead in two ticks; Discount Dildo relies on her right discretion to set pace in others; there are too much zigzag hutongs where the hashers hardly hark at a calling from other hashers who found a mark, in particular at Open Check and Two-Way in many forks. Plus incoherent scraps of thoughts for a sign easily disperse the hashers. Some keep at average speed for a chitchat like Agent Orgy, Just Patrick, Easy Rider, Just Jessie, Breakfast Included, Rub it and Shaven Not Stirred as leveret, etc, then go to one’s head to hit first beer stop in a poky lane. Local kids with curiosity mix into hashing group to act cute to the hashers. A hashing cheese cake comforts the hashers, taking a while, three leverets then turn up with some hashers as well as eight walkers, Just Toy stays silent; Spermaid as long-time-no-see changes to be more alone; Creamy Lips is praised by the hashers for what she organized a great party last night; Just Celine latches onto more about the hashers; the talkers in twos and threes such as Karate, Finger My Dough, Bjorn Again and virgins…

That starts to explore the trail post-beer stop seems to the deliverance from a binding force of sorts. DH and Puppy still take the lead; Dark Shaft and Just Oracle alternate to tread on the heels of pacemaker. Passing through a long green belt street by street, crossing over a street into an empty fresh art compound, scaling the layers of stairway to be an open flat patio where all runners photograph in a surrounding of grotesque tokenism. BJ gets his rocks off to an adrenaline of jumps; rallying to the support of moving forward, crossing through a bustling traffic light to an another hutong structures and the locals now and then take the pictures for the hashers. A local middle age male cyclist would like to give PB a ride to catch up with the forerunners. He asks why to run now after it’s refused, he shakes his head and goes away as hearing of celebrating a Woman Day. Unknowingly squeezing into a congested Walking Culture Street called Nanluoguxiang, crowding through a mark of Open Check from three directions spends on a while and then locating a way to break out of this concourse. In no time to fetch up second beer stop in a thriving lane and the walkers thick and fast knock about staging post. The sip and talk re-relax the hashers in a fine and warm air, which anneals further things into genetic predisposition in an easygoing social event on the point of physical limitation.

The percipients tamp down to get at the root of matter for establishing a floor and continue to mog and take the edge off of sense of ennui in the subjection of one’s heart. Winding hutongs still percuss basilic vein of health-giving mobile agent and local brats playing roller skating race with the hashers and whisk to end point one after the other. The down-down circle is sited a small clearing nearby restaurant. Three Aussie hashers first bubble over ahoying each other. GM and RA exerts their power respectively as per procedure for six virgins whom are welcome to BJ HHH with Hash song and little gift, three leverets, some long-time-no-sees and Nut Pirate as latecomer showing up for a circle and a dinner; Ed the Veg drinks by using a Cock of Shame for his living in BJ, but didn’t join BJ Hash event oftentimes; BJ in high spirits obtains his BJ HHH 10 run patch and a mug; Scottish visitors gift a handful of Scotch yellow Tee shirts to D&C as GM for BJ HHH, then GM presents one piece to PB and CTD each; DH all the time accompanies every scene with his guttural rhymes in peculiar Hash songs; a local passer-by fishes out a hip flask of whisky to share Molly, which juices up the site and there are plenty of the local audiences from byroads and windows of living buildings viewing Hash performance, and otherwise. As if each one holds a nosegay of flower to set off a smiling faces agleam. CoV finally leads a chorus of classic Hash song dubbed Swing Low with four versions, ticking over an aftertaste. Twenty-four dinners experience Yunnan kickshaws in characteristic mini-space.

On On…

Pickle Boy

Beijing. Tuesday,

March 10, 2015