Oktoberfest

I initially wanted to go to Krakow for my birthday instead of Munich. I did an amazing hike there in 2002, and I wanted to return, do that hike again, and perhaps do some others. Ticket prices and travel time were high, though, and I decided that Munich was a better option for a long-weekend trip. Plus, Munich had an extra feature in its favor: my trip coincided with the last weekend of Oktoberfest.

I must admit that, before I went to Munich, I didn't have a good idea of what Oktoberfest is. I've had beers that are labeled Oktoberfest (Spaten and other German imports to the U.S. have Oktoberfest styles – at least for the international market – as does Sam Adams), and I vaguely pictured some special harvest themed events in Bavaria during Oktober (which, I'm guessing, roughly corresponds with October in English). Apart from that, my impressions of Oktoberfest were probably some misguided interpretations of Beerfest.

I'd specifically pictured a series of tents set up in public squares and parks, with bars serving liters of beer, and some special themes within existing beer gardens.

In reality, Oktoberfest in Munich is basically the state fair in Phoenix (and most other large U.S. cities, I'd imagine), but with a lot of beer. There is a giant asphalt area with rides, stands selling fair food (though, notably, sausages, pretzels, and candied almonds rather than corn dogs, deep fried butter, coke, and Snickers), and masses of families and small children. Unlike U.S. fairs, though, the main event is drinking beer.

There are several large “tents” set up in the Oktoberfest grounds. They are not the types of tents that one might picture. From the outside, they look like permanent structures, and from the inside, they don't feel much different from indoor beer gardens in Munich. There are several tents set up throughout the Oktoberfest ground, each for a different brewery (e.g., Paulaner, Hofbrau, Hacker-Pshor).

There are masses of long, wooden tables set up within each tent. Each tent sells liters of beer and Bavarian food, like giant pretzels, whole roasted chickens, sausages, boiled potatoes, and pork cutlets. “Waitresses” walk around, but I was told that most (perhaps all) of them are not employed by the tents, but instead buy from the main beer area and charge people an extra euro or so for food and drink in exchange for transporting it.

It's easy to see why this system would work. The tables are long, and each is packed with people. In the center of the table, you might have 20 others to your left and 20 to your right. It's a major hassle to get up.

The table that I ended up sitting at was filled with friendly (and intoxicated) Germans who were thrilled to talk to an American. There was “Herman the German,” an engineering consultant who gave me his business card and urged me to send him an email later (I did; I did not hear back from him). There was a middle-aged woman who wanted to engage me in a serious discussion about American foreign policy. There was a young law student who repeatedly proclaimed his love for me, even though we'd only exchanged about ten words up to that point. There was a recent college graduate who told me how much he loves Amsterdam, and how much he wants to return.

Ruth and I each had a quick liter of beer before I had to catch my flight. There's something very satisfying about drinking beer a liter at a time. I definitely realized that I'd just quickly drank a liter of beer when I stood up and left the tent, though.

It is amazing that people go to Oktoberfest and drink liter after liter of beer, both for the alcohol consumption, and for the price. Each liter was about 10 euros, and it's common for Germans to spend all day at Oktoberfest and drink three or four of them. Though I suppose that I could picture doing that with some fellow ASU alumni if they were interested.

Ruth and Herman the German

Me and the woman who wanted to express that the U.S. should love more and attack countries less.