I'm of German descent, I am 63 years young, and I'm a professed beer-head, yet until September 30, 2019, 16:23 hrs I had never been to what must be the most iconic beer party in the world: the Munich Oktoberfest. And then the clock turned to 16:24 hrs, and my life was about to become a little more complete.
Yes, it's all true: People dress in Lederhosen and Dirndl dresses, the city and the trains from the outlying areas burst to the gills with partygoers, and millions of euros are pumped into the Munich economy thanks to the slaughter of untold chickens and pigs that end up as Hendel and Schweinshaxn. Long live gluttony!
Young and old, male and female--disgorging from the trains
Right after our trip to Italy's Lake Garda and before our flight to Latvia, Sabine and I took the opportunity to finally--FINALLY!!!!--pay homage to my German heritage by visiting the annual Wiesn, this year in its 176th edition, if my info is correct. I'm not really sure what I expected, but once on the train I realized I was definitely outnumbered--like in dress code, language, and latent alcohol level, you know? Holy shit, people are really serious about wearing the traditional garb. For the men, that means a blue- or red-checkered shirt, leather shorts or knickers, and some weirdo socks that cover the calves but don't go all the way into the special shoes (only real hardcore Bavarians don these Lofer socks). The women are done up in fancy Dirndl dresses and blouses that accentuate the bosom. Actually, the accentuation is very, very prominent. :) It's hard not to stare!
Oktoberfest is as traditional as it comes. During the opening ceremonies, representatives of various breweries, guilds, and other illuminata will enter the fairgrounds, and if you believe it, allegedly no beer is poured until the mayor has tapped the first keg with a well-placed whack of the wooden hammer that's used for this important ceremony--a custom so important that it is televised live in Bavaria and beyond. Once the "O Zapft" has been accomplished, about two million gallons of specially brewed lager beer are going to fill the one-liter steins that an armada of temps delivers to the millions of visitors of Oktoberfest. According to my various sources, you can easily make 5,000 or 6,000 euros as a server during Oktoberfest if you're willing to haul hectoliters of beer and let people look deep down your cleavage. Lovely!
The grounds of Oktoberfest, or Wiesn (as everybody refers to the place and the event), is a large area that once used to be on the outskirts of Munich but has now been assimilated into the city-scape. Still, it is holy ground, immune to ridiculous real estate values and other modern pressures. Months before Wiesn, construction starts on the dozen or so "tents" that are owned by various breweries and other entities and that are the heart and soul of the festivities. The tents really are more like semi-permanent structures that would work well to house Syrian refugees, but better decorated. All feature a bandstand for the musicians, and all have extensive infrastructure to make it possible to get all that beer, chicken halves, and pig knuckles (as well as steckerl fischI) to the more than 1,500 (up to 5,000 in the largest tents) guests who start filtering in at 10 a.m. to claim their territory. Many arrive well-warmed-up, having consumed a few beers on the way from home.
So, obviously, arriving around mid-afternoon we were already at a big disadvantage. But with only two people, we were able to snag a seat in two different tents, first for an appetizer beer and then later for the whole shebang. You need to realize that if you don't have a seat at a table, you're fair game for rough encounters with any of the servers who hustle to serve yet another few liters of beer or a huge tray of pig knuckles. They're fast, they're ruthless, and they carry a heavy load. Better get a seat. Seriously.
Vendor hawking mechanized hendl dunce caps that wiggle their drumsticks
The bands play, but not what you'd expect, or I did. Not all that many oompah tunes here--think along the lines of '70s oldies and other top-20 drivel. It doesn't matter--the crowd will swing and sway, get up on the benches and eventually some end up on the tables (even though Sabine says that's a no-no that will get you evicted), so at some point eating becomes kinda difficult, because that pig knuckle in front of you may just be some guy or woman's not-so-shapely leg. Man, this is crazy!
Even crazier is the fact that at 10:30 p.m. the whole place starts to close down. Really! Of course, if you start drinking beer in multiples of liters (at something like $14 a pop) at 10 a.m., you do need to stop at some point to regenerate for the next day. Still, it does come as a bit of a surprise, and had I known I would have paced myself differently.
In the tents, the end of the day comes at 10:30 p.m.
Oktoberfest is not just about drinking beer and eating massive amounts of food, but it is also about what we call in the US the "midway." Man, they have an amazing assortment of rides, outdone maybe by Universal Studios but not many other places in the known universe. Imagine any carnival ride that you've ever seen, and you'll find it at Wiesn. Probably bigger, though. Interspersed are the usual peddlers of unhealthy food, worthless trinkets, and silly games that will disconnect you from your euros and reconnect you with cheap toys or other kitsch that nobody would ever buy while sober but that you crave when you try to land that sledgehammer in the exact right spot in that Hau den Lukas.
My days (and, fortunately, Sabine's as well) of having the urge to ride rollercoasters lie in the past, But you can't go to Wiesn without at least riding the Ferris Wheel, which seems to carry a much smaller risk of fatal injury than some of those other insane rides.The view, especially at night, over the grounds and the city is rather stunning.
The other "ride" that we "rode" is actually not an active ride for everyone. We're talking about one of the most iconic and historical attractions of the Oktoberfest midway: The Teufelsrad, or Wheel of the Devil. You pay five euros to enter. At first, it all looks rather harmless: A bunch of people standing around a circus-arena-like central area, with a low upholstered barricade around what appears to be a very slightly conical disc, maybe 18 feet in diameter. A "caller" will announce who gets to ride the next ride--all kids from 8 to 11 years, all pretty girls from 18 to 25, all carpenters' assistants, all those who are retired, all emergency personnel who happen to be in the tent, and so on. This caller is also the person who controls the speed with which the disc is going to spin once the riders have mobbed the infield--and while doing so, he keeps up a steady stream of invective and schadenfreude when the increasing centrifugal force makes riders lose their tenuous hold and slide off the disc, until only one or two people are left over.
At that point a large ball, similar to a Turkish ottoman, is lowered into the rink to whack the remaining rider(s) against the head so they will slip off the rotating apparatus. Ropes are thrown onto the spinning platform, once again with the intent to dislodge even the most tenacious rider. I can't tell you how much fun it is to watch this spectacle! It's the only carnival ride I have ever heard of where riders and spectator get to pay the same entry fee, and either can stay equally long (and spectate or ride indefinitely) for the same amount of money.
What you just saw are two videos that I shot of two groups of unrelated men and women sitting on top of each other while trying to avoid getting jettisoned. If you want more action, simply Google Teufelsrad and Oktoberfest as there are a gazillion videos on YouTube. This ride has more than 100 years of tradition, and it probably is the most beloved one of them all.
So, those are my impressions from the World's Largest Fair. All I can say is, schee war's!!! An echte Gaudi!
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