< Oktoberfest > Festival < / Munich >

Two days ago I returned to the United States, my trip to Oktoberfest in Munich completed sans deforming maladies or sustained unpleasantness. The trip itself was the brain child of a Marine buddy who opted for the 4 year re-up out in Stuttgart and easily convinced me to partake in satiating my wanderlust with a few liters of beer and brief visit to his neck of the Bavarian woods.

With only four days in Deutschland bodily functions were mostly ignored in favor of adopting the more alluring sense of actively chilling in as many locations as possible. Many a beer garden was supported while still allowing maximum absorption of local flair, if not full out charm.

Day one involved a day trip to a few of the smaller towns not far from the southern area of Stuttgart. Among these was a monastery in Maulbronn.

My buddy’s wife had been here recently with her German class and while she had prefaced the suggestion with claims that it might be boring we all enjoyed the trip to this slightly-touristy but classically aged monastery. The concept of “old” doesn’t really exist for most of the US beyond the 18th century so churches and areas founded three to four hundred years prior to that still happily appeases my need for the properly antiquated. The three of us rambled around the grounds and then the church, finalizing the small visit at a local eatery where we boldly ordered without really knowing the full contents of what we were to consume aside from the half-liter pilsners.

Due to unknown road closures my generous hosts were able to improvise the journey back and another trip to a beer garden closed out the night.

Day two brought a larger scope of the base, which while mostly hosting folks of the Army persuasion was still awesome, and a chartered bus to bear us safely into the bosom of Munich’s Oktoberfest. I had heard about this 6 million person a year festival and read up on it’s rich history and traditions, as well as listened intently to my buddy’s accounting of Bavarian garbed patrons and their table standing antics, swinging heavy beer-filled glass steins all the while. While impressed with the sheer size of the grounds as we trekked across the puddle-filled parking lot, nothing could have prepared me as we hit our first tent.

Now, “tent” is entirely the wrong word. These several story high structures are constructed and decorated months in advance by each of their corresponding brewery sponsors. Each holds thousands, is distinctly unique and functional while hosting a live band and the means to dispense thousands of liters of fine beer alongside roast chicken and a myriad of other items. Our first, Hippodrom, slapped me in the face much as a wronged female would, only instead of the angsty stare and silent fuming I was left with the stinging imprint of sound, people, and intense hospitality. Age didn’t matter, neither did your language or garb. I saw guys with their daughters, both traditionally dressed, alongside others that were clearly American – scourge of all Europe. I was instructed on the proper toasting etiquette and greeted with warm smiles and clinking steins for the duration of our time there.We progressed on to other tents and were met with equally sincere welcomes and even more beer. I mostly observed those around me as they enjoyed the simpler aspects of the fest (see: BEER) but not ignoring a genuinely global appreciation of what was transpiring. I remained self-conscious of my lack of ability to say much outside of my native language, at least until I had a few liters in me, but it didn’t seem to bother anyone. We drank with people from Germany, France, America, and beyond. A good time was had.

I won’t go in to the details of the voids in my memory of the return trip to the bus or relate my puzzled looks when I saw quite of a few decidedly blurry pictures I seem to have taken, but I will remark on the sheer inability to describe how utterly universal the festival was. Yes, alcohol is a social lubricant and grows only more potent as it’s volume increases, but the vibe was one of celebration without worry. Joy in the simple act of a toast, oft repeated, and in watching those around you have a good time often not realizing that you are in the thick of the same feeling they are.

Suffice to say, if you have the means I cannot endorse your attendance enough.

The following day hangovers were nursed and we went back to Munich to enjoy some of the sites other than the fairgrounds. We visited the city’s Marienplatz, Residens, Frauenkirche, and walked the majority of the downtown area. The US needs to add public squares to remedy it’s increasingly long list of detriments. Yes, these are tourist magnets but I’m sure their historic credence with the locals accounts for much. On second thought, stay how you are U.S. for all I can imagine is Las Vegas and it’s butchingly butcheristic butchery of actual sites.

There were naturally a myriad of occurrences, both in transit and with the people I was fortunate to enough interact, that will pass without comment. The combined sum of experiences associated with this trip are as rich as they are many and will not be soon forgotten. To my hosts: I cannot say how much I appreciate your friendship and generosity.

Things of late being what they are, this trip was a much needed dosage of what I feel life should be about.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, October 9th, 2007 at 10:07 pm and is filed under Germany, So one time..., Travel. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.