Interhash ‘96 Cyprus

The trash, the whole trash and nothing but

the trash

Cyprus, birth place of Venus, battle ground of gods and hosts

of Interhash 1996. This being the first Interhash held outside
the far-east/pacific regions made it a ‘must’ for most UK
hashers. In total of the 739 UK hashers, 87 were from the
South West, and thirty of us left from Exeter Airport on the
previous Sunday to experience first hand what all the fuss was
about. Boarding an Airbus A320, you know, the ones that are
always crashing, and catching fire, we took off at 9:15 to
arrive at Larnaca Airport 4½ hour later, or 3:15 in the
morning, local time. Lucky me got to sit next to Haddock for
the whole trip, which was more entertaining than any in-flight movie. After comparing the likeness of Aphrodite
on the Cypriot £1 to Squamus we sampled some of the Cypriot food, wines and beers available at ridiculously
low prices.

We did not witness the rebirth of Aphrodite, nor the Crusaders running riot nor the blood and tears of Othello
and Desdemona (you see I do know a little bit of culture), however we did have a very enjoyable time. I was
fortunate to hire a Proton car for four days, with a fifth day free, that’s if the car survived the rigors of driving in
Cyprus in the first hour! Map in hand I now set off to explore. Discarding my hash t shirts so that I might move
more freely over the island I took in the local attractions. There were ruins, some mosques, mosaics, some more
ruins, mosquitoes, beaches, more ruins, lizards, and pubs, oh did I mention the ruins? There were quite a few of
them! Seriously though I visited the Stadium of Apollo at Curium where I followed in the footsteps of hashers of
old by running the length of the track, pity about the lack of a beer stop halfway along.

Registration opened on the Wednesday at the Mediterranean Beech Hotel where we picked up our goody bags
and got bombarded by various hashes selling their runs. Looe and Liskeard, Truro, Plympton and Kirton retired
to Theo’s restaurant on the strip where we met Maiden/Little Foot and her significant other (who I didn’t quite
catch the name of) from Australia, this pleased Winging Pom who now had someone to winge to.

On the Thursday I went up to the Troödos mountains where I bumped into 300 hashers on the Jakarta mountain
trail. Despite hashing in a warm dry climate Haddock and one or two others had managed to get covered in shig
from the only puddle on the trail. Though not running I was made to feel very welcome, in fact some could say
too welcome as I was nominated for a down down, but then again I do not recall anyone, runners or not,
escaping the RA’s attention.

Friday morning I drove up to Nicosia where the drivers have surpassed the lunatic stage and actually gone one
step further, “virtual” insanity! Well what do you expect in a city where the ring road is cut in half by a
whopping great fence that someone carelessly left in the way? Meanwhile Haddock, Chopper and Nick’O went
on the “Bangkok Thinking Drinking Run” at Curium beach. This visited the Curium ruins and amphitheatre,
where as I experienced earlier in the week, the acoustics must have driven the “on-on” calls for miles. Interhash
officially opened at 6pm that evening at the municipal gardens, and of course yours truly was there amongst the
first twenty or so, racing for the beer! The opening ceremony
consisted of native dancing, a band and loads of beer which got
everyone off on the right note.

For the run on Saturday I opted for the Aphrodite trail which also
proved to be the most popular, conjuring up images of scantily clad
Grecian women, or perhaps it was for the beach at the end, you decide.
After waiting for half an hour in the back of a very hot bus with no air
conditioning we had perspired of all the liquid taken on board in
preparation and were in dire need of refreshments. Thanks Cardiff H3
for sharing your water on the bus! The medium run promised to be 1
hour and fifteen minutes long which attracted such people as Haddock,
Nick’O, Sheepshagger and Magnum, whilst us remaining hashers, built
of less sterner stuff, decided to go on the shorter 45 minute trail. This, in the heat, turned out to be a sensible
decision as most of us from the UK managed to stretch the 45 minutes to well over the hour anyway. There were
refreshments before, four times during, and after the run. Those doing the short trail managed to have quarter-
hour extra refreshment time before starting off. The trail was three dots on, laid in coloured shredded paper and
had five checks on the short, which when you consider there were four hundred plus runners, was just right. It
was a very enjoyable and scenic run, although it was very tiring. After the run the hares gave up on the idea of
holding a circle when everybody piled off down to the beech.

That evening the entertainment mainly consisted of the

Hash Cabaret, and as usual at such events there were
some very good and well thought up acts. The best act,
in my humble opinion, were however Yorkshire H3
(any cries of bias on the part of the scribe who spent
four years hashing in Yorkshire will be hotly denied,
now Burglar Bill, where’s my pint of Tetley?) who did
their rendition of “Ilkley Moor B’ar Tat” with their new
lyrics that you wouldn’t exactly let your grandmother
hear. Other greats included Cheltenham and Cotswold
(stripping I think), Oslo (more stripping) and Desert H3
who did “Saddam, Saddam who the **** is Saddam?”.
I was getting rather tired of seeing the Rocky Horror
Picture Show being performed at every hash cabaret
I’ve attended, although I must say that the one put on at
Interhash is probably the best I’ve seen done.

Most of the Deb’m and Kerno hashers went on the Hera run at Larnaca on the Sunday, as they didn’t really want
to miss their flight home to Exeter. From what I heard at the airport though they had a very good run, some
commented that it had been particularly scenic, perhaps among the best that week. I was very glad however that
they had gotten the chance to change their clothing first, it being very difficult to open the window on the
airplane! The flight home during daylight was particularly interesting for sighting the Black Sea, Lake Geneva
and the Isle of Dogs as we flew in over London.

On reflection was it any good? The answer to this is a resounding yes, it was very well organised and ran
smoothly. Next time however we will plan things better so we don’t miss the down-down competition.

Problems for Pottsie

Come hither and take heed from the tale of Pottsie, who on arriving at Bristol Airport expecting to be whisked
away to the sunshine isle of Cyprus, instead found himself sitting in the departure lounge with a large group of
sheep whilst his plane was delayed for nine hours. Other hashers who might feel slightly envious of Pottsies
position take note for these were no ordinary sheep but Sheepshagger’s ‘Mountin’ Sheep’ Hash from Cardiff.
What bliss then when said plane duly arrived, but wait, where was the baggage containing his favourite
luminescent wig and hash horn? Unfortunetly Pottsie recovered his suitcase before customs officials could carry
out a controlled explosion and shower everyone with little pieces of kilt. Further disappointment was felt by all
when airline officials would not allow Pottsie to take his hash horn
into the cabin and entertain the passengers en route with his now
famous rendition of “swing low, sweet chariot” (actually I’m not
altogether sure just what Pottsie does play on his horn, it sounding
rather like a castrated cat on hot coals, but this is as good a guess as
any). On arriving in Cyprus residents of the Eden Vale apartments
were shocked to learn that Pottsies hotel had been double booked,
and even more shocked when an icy horn blast told them who their
new neighbour was. Here ends the pitiful tale of Pottsies travels, well
we can but hope. Incidentally, Limassol Vice Squad are investigating
claims of a lewd conduct being performed on the premises after an
advert was spotted on the Interhash notice board offering free horn
blowing instruction to harriettes.

This report has been penned by the hand of Silent.