Our sponsor for the timing of this post is: drumroll, please: antibiotics! I love how on WebMD, they remind you that your doctor had a reason for prescribing antibiotics, so you should suck it up and deal with the side effects. So, take that nausea. You may make me too miserable to work, but writing seems like a doable activity. Plus, much as I love Connie Britton, three episodes of Nashville in a row is three too many, so…

My advice to anyone living abroad who likes the outdoors and/or beer (preferably both): join the local Hash group. To the uninitiated, like me before I moved here, I promise this is not what it sounds – there’s no hookah involved, it’s perfectly legal, and is a really great way to meet some really interesting people, both locals and foreigners. Thanks to the Addis Ababa Hash House Harriers, I’ve seen a lot of the beautiful countryside around Addis, gotten my lungs accustomed to running at altitude, and most importantly, made friends.

As someone who does not have a car, I’m especially grateful for the opportunity, for only 20 birr per week plus your beer/water/pop tab, to get taken up into the mountains. I love Addis, I really do, but it is a congested and dirty city. Too many consecutive days in city limits is suffocating. And so Saturday is the best day of the week because it means clean air, beautiful views, and freedom. Last week, the trail was up in Entoto, and included winding your way downhill at top speed through the eucalyptus forest –magical if you can forget what a destructive invasive plant eucalyptus is. On the flip side, the last time we were on Entoto, I hashed with an Aussie, who said it made him feel right at home.

So what is hash? “A drinking group with a running problem.” A trail run with beer and merriment awaiting at the end (and sometimes in the middle). The day or morning before the hash, the hares set the trail. They make the hash circle at the starting and ending point (see picture), and then leave a trail of shredded white paper to mark the course. Now, one of the keys is that this trail shouldn’t be too obvious or straightforward; there should also be lots of uphill and a beautiful view (sample photo above). Part of the fun is working as a team to find the trail, and, of course, short cutting when you realize you went in completely the wrong direction. At some points, the hares leave small circles of shreddies, and then the runners have to spread out and find where the appropriate path is. Some trails end in X’s. One is correct.

After everyone makes it back again, the hash circle takes place. The GM (General Mismanager) leads, choir provides rousing and generally unruly songs, hares are critiqued, and the virgins, returners, and leavers are welcomed/bidden farewell. Then, the spiritual advisor takes over to address “sins” that occurred during the hash. Sample sins include new shoes, egregious short cutting, talking on the phone… And I should note that, like in all exclusive societies, members get irreverent, through hopefully not irrelevant, nicknames. So, my Hash friends include Short Cutting Bastard, Hand Cream, and Tennis Ball, to name a few.

The Addis Hash group is a really terrific set of people. A fun mix of old and young. Expat and Habesha. And by expat, I don’t just mean white people – we have folks from Bangladesh, Indonesia, and more. Diplomats, marines, tour guides, UN folk, aid workers, teachers, architects, you name it. No other paleontologists, which is a good thing, because I’ve gotten a chance to see how some of the other 99.999% lives. And, let me tell you, many of them have really cool lives and a lot of amazing stories!

This week, Tesfay, Mike, Holyad, and I set the trail up on Gojem Road, which is far, but well worth it for the isolation, beautiful scenery, and hyena sightings. The benefit (?) of setting the trail is you get to do it twice in one day. So Saturday was a glorious 15.2km of walking and running in the woods. And, in the circle post hash, we had a short ceremony where I finally received my Hash name. Sorry, I can only reveal it to you in the circle: rules are rules.