11 July 2008
Published in The Sunday Telegraph ‘Escape’ 15/6/08
Posted by Amanda Reid under: General .
Exploring Tokyo on the run
Japanese tourist trails follow many paths, as Amanda Reid reports.
PERCHED at a bar in the Tokyo district of Roppongi, my new acquaintance asked if I liked beer. Not really. What about running? Even less.
When his next words involved “hash”, my confusion deepened, until he explained that members of the international running club, the Hash House Harriers, are fond not only of running, but also of socialising and drinking beer.
After multiple reassurances regarding my lack of fitness, I turned up the next week, as instructed, at the designated exit of Daikanyama rail station, on the Tokyu Toyoko line. Following chalk arrows for five rainy minutes to reach the meeting point, the buzzing cafes and afternoon shopping activity I passed were undeniably tempting.
It soon became clear that “hashing” — loosely based on hare-hunting — provides instant access to a bunch of unusually extroverted Japanese, many of whom speak some English, as well as to a smorgasbord of sociable expats and members of the American military, stationed near Yokohama.
The club uses the term hash for the chalk signs and flour used to mark the trail. A runner is pre-selected to be the “hare” and lays the trail for the other runners (the “hounds”) to chase, after a 10-minute head start.
There are more than 1800 hash groups worldwide. As long as you’re not offended by bawdy jokes, travellers are usually welcome to join in. I encountered some fast, athletic-looking runners, but the guy with a pram called “Fugu” (Pufferfish) was proof that people of all shapes and sizes are welcome. Addressing each other using slightly rude and bizarre hash nicknames appears to be the norm.
Hashing lets you explore sections of the city or countryside that you’re unlikely to visit otherwise. Throughout Japan, there are exotic surprises, such as a peaceful, rundown old temple in the middle of a dingy suburb, or a wooden heritage house nestled in a bamboo garden. Having scouted the trail beforehand, the “hare” usually knows the terrain well. These can lead you via hidden shrines and cemeteries, through Daiei supermarket aisles or parks full of blossoms and — if the “hare” is mean — up too many hills. I also puffed my way around the swarming streets of trendy Harajuku, past costumed girls wearing face paint.
The Japanese on the street did stare at the group, as foreigners (gaijin) tend to stand out — and even more so, if they are dripping with sweat, blowing whistles and yelling “on-on!”. However, the owner of a bottle shop was delighted when we stopped for refreshment.
After finishing the 90-minute run, the imbibing continued. Songs were sung and one member was assigned a hash nickname (Krusty Pants) after completing the obligatory eight runs.
The laughter continued at a nearby izakaya — a traditional Japanese bar/restaurant — where food and jugs of beer appeared and we set about gaining the kilograms we had shed getting here.
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