Blogabroad
by Mary Pinckney Waters
September 30, 2005 - Oktoberfest - Crowding
Traditions
If you ask me, the planners of Oktoberfest set their sights
a little high this year.
The event’s Web site reads: "People from all
over the world will enjoy Bavarian hospitality, food, and
-- of course -- the famous Oktoberfest beer." Sounds
good, doesn’t it? I mean, theoretically, at least.
But as I ventured for the first time to Munich’s Oktoberfest
on Saturday with two busloads of other Bamberg exchange students,
the festival’s 6 million-attendee crowd looked slightly
bigger -- and more quicksand-like -- than I had imagined.
Navigating through the thirsty throngs felt like trying
to swim inside a washing machine. Feet and elbows at every
turn. Three languages in each ear. Ten minutes between every
street.
Our group had an hour to grab some lunch before meeting
at Marienplatz a few blocks away for a city tour. Against
all odds, we secured food, slithered our way around Munich,
and proceeded to plow through any and all obstructing body
parts toward Oktoberfest’s carnival grounds.
As we approached the much-famed Oktoberfest, I rubbed my
knuckles over my eyelids. Was that cluster of haunted houses
and collapsible rollercoasters really it, the Oktoberfest?
Because I would have sworn it was the S.C. State Fair if
the people had been wearing Confederate flag T-shirts instead
of Lederhosen and suspenders. Not to mention that a healthy
fraction of the German male population had the mullet hairstyle
down pat. Mullet-meisters, I tell you.
Call me crazy, but for some reason, I had been under the
impression that Oktoberfest was about German tradition. The
event originated in 1810 as a celebration of Prince Ludwig
and Princess Therese’s wedding. Apparently it has since
been decided that bumper cars, rides that drop you 100 feet
per second, and 20-euro Oktoberfest T-shirts were the best
way to carry on that celebration.
Needless to say, my colleagues and I were disappointed.
We wanted a taste of old-fashioned, authentic German culture.
We only had one hope left: beer.
As monstrous as the beer tents were, they were teeming with
people and impatience. In order to buy a beer, you had to
find a seat in the tent, which, of course, required actually
entering the tent first.
We stood outside a tent 30 long, sober minutes before a
drunken Austrian was escorted out for dancing on tables.
After he explained to us, between slurs, that he had waited
three hours to enter the tent, we decided that Oktoberfest
was one tradition that we could do without.
Plan B: Four of us went back to Munich’s center and
drank liter beers in front of Das Neues Rathaus (The New
Town Hall), a 19th-century building with 32 statues. We raised
our drinks to “Italien” at least 10 times with
a party from Rome at the neighboring table. And from 1:30
a.m. to 6:30 a.m. we rode the train home with other worn-out
fest-goers.
We were having so much fun that we couldn’t tell if
we were dreaming, but the four of us vowed to have the same
dream again and again.
Utimately, the Oktoberfest tradition wasn’t all it
was cracked up to be. I guess the best knowledge really is
first-hand knowledge, and the best traditions are the ones
you create.
Mary Pinckney Waters welcomes your comments
and feedback:
marypwaters@yahoo.com |
