This is the story of three Oktoberfests. Hang tight and watch the German unfold.
Part I: September, Pretoria.
Sarah, the girls and I all rolled up to Pretoria to the German school because a school is the most appropriate place to hold a beer festival, right? But like any good Oktoberfest, it wasn’t all about the beer. They had face painting, paintball, carnival rides, and snacks. The girls got nice face painting and hopped on some ponies. They found a girl dressed up in German flare and mistook her for Dorthy from the Wizard of Oz, demanding a photo. Soon we migrated to the large tent where music and food were plentiful. While the beer was just local microbrews, the food packed all the punch of a good festival. We ate and sampled the beer, finishing the evening with Taelyn conquering the mechanical bull.
Part II: September, Munich, Germany.
Sarah and I have longed to attend the true festival in Bavaria for years. Every year there has been an excuse not to go, but this year we pulled out all the stops and made it happen. Catching a red-eye to Paris, we hopped over to Munich from South Africa on a Friday night. Arriving at our hotel around 10:30 in the morning left us time to work our way to the Therenweisen, the large park that hosts Oktoberfest every year. But before I tell what we did, I will give you the guidebook overview of how it works, so that when I talk about our trip, I can segue seamlessly from event to event without having to provide the background context.
The Tents:
To say that the festival is a series of tents would be misleading. The 14 BIG tents and many more smaller tents are actually buildings. They are supported by large beams of wood and iron, and even walled in many places. With elaborate decorations both inside and out, these do not resemble anything you would camp in nor do they look like the circus big top. In fact, the structure actually comes closer to being a wonderfully decorated warehouse, holding between 6,000-10,000 people. Every table is essentially a picnic table with benches on either side – some long, some short. They are heavily packed together on the main floor of widely spaced in the boxes and balconies that exist in the large tents.
Built on permanent pavement foundations, these tents start going up about 3 months before the festival are in full swing for the 16 day event, and take about 1 more month to deconstruct. Huge amounts of space are required to store the materials for the tents the remainder of the year. It is estimated that a tent costs about 2 million Euros to operate while the net profits end up being about 2 million. Seats are mostly reserved on the balconies and boxes, meaning that someone must specifically write (and sometimes actually write a letter, not an internet submission) to the operators of the tents and “reserve” a seat. Tables are booked in two periods – from about 11-4 and from 5-close. During this time, you must commit to 10 chicken dishes and 20 liters of beer (paid in advance). That works out to about 2L and 1 chicken per person for a group of 10, though many tables are booked for less and the patrons gladly consume the excess. Sometime people book the same table every year. Other times people book a table for both sessions, staying all day with various friends joining and leaving throughout the time. However, reserved or unreserved, you must have a seat (even if you are standing on it) to be allowed to order a beer. So while many people walk into a tent to search for a seat or experience the atmosphere, none will be served unless they have a spot on a bench. Outside the tents are beer gardens. These are a continuation of the inside tables, though often without cover, no live music, and a much more touristy crowd.
The Drink:
Each tent serves only one kind of beer (ex., Paulaner, Augustiener, Hofbrau, Spaten, etc.) and that beer is a specially brewed Oktoberfest which is similar to a Helles (a light, drinkable brew) but runs at about 6% ABV. They say that the beer does not give hangovers though at the rate that some put them back, it would be hard not to think otherwise. About 7 million people visit Oktoberfest over the 16 days and about 7 million liters of beer are consumed on site, averaging out to about 1 per person. However, given that many people are there to enjoy the rides, see the sites, and do no choose to drink (i.e., many children or elderly people), a large compensations happens for those in the tents. Beer is served in thick, 1 liter glass steins (called a “mass”) which are very heavy, even without the liquid. The beer waitresses carry up to 10 of these at a time (the men 12) showing amazing strength. A glass of beer costs an outstanding 9.80 Euros, and with a 1-2 Euro tip for the maid, you best save up for a day of drinking in the tents.
In some tents, you will only find the beer as an option. In others, non-alcoholic versions are served, and some aficionados go one-for-one (one alcohol followed by one non-alcoholic) in order to pace themselves through the whole day and night. Since it is said you are not to ever drink alone, you are repeatedly hoisting your glass to respond to the ever present toast of “Prost!” while the band will play “Ein Prosit” about once every 10 min as well, keeping the beer going down at a steady rate. Those feeling a bit frisky will try the Raddler, a mix of beer and lemonade offered in some tents. Soda and water is also available for those not drinking or needing a break.
The Food:
When you spend all day in a tent, you eat, or you perish. While sausage is most associated with Oktoberfest, there are actually very few floating around. The sausage of choice is a nice, white, boiled link served in a beer stein of hot water. But far and away the hit of the show is the Hendle, the Bavarian roasted chicken. Served as half a chicken coated in butter and spices, this rotisserie delight is the talk of the tents. Melting in your mouth, it does not disappoint and when eaten, the rest of the table stares on while the lucky consumer devours it before their eyes. Many more are ordered after watching this spectacle. It is said that about 500,000 chickens are served up during Oktoberfest.
Tents are famous for their food as well as beer. Some offer fish on a stick, duck, and in one case, a fully roasted pig. Other food can also be found if you are lucky enough to score an English menu. This food can be found inside tents and out, in addition to fries, hamburgers, and other snacks at many of the stalls along the road. But in the tents, one should also not miss the large pretzels, or Brezel. The size of and NFL lineman’s head, this soft bread is excellent for soaking up the liquids consumed in abundance.
How it all went down:
Sarah and I took a train from our hotel to the festival. With each stop, more and more people got on the train wearing the traditional lederhosen and drindle costumes, until they were stuffing on the subway by the hundreds. The five stops before the grounds all had security lining people up and sorting them onto the train – German efficiency at its best. Finally we reached the end and piled out with the masses to the stairs and escalators (all going up) took us by the hundreds up to the surface. Make no mistake, when you stepped off the escalator, you were in Oktoberfest. Literally, the top of the escalator was in the park, and you were surrounded by Bavarian celebration. We worked our way down the crowded streets (yes, this is so big it has streets in a park) to the far end. Most people were eagerly waiting for the parade to come through. Not having a reserved seat, we elected to push to a tent and lock one down before the festivities truly started, about 1.5 hours in the future. Each tent has a big front entrance but most don’t use them, and soon we found the secret side entrance that allows people in.
Immediately we were facing 10,000 people, and every seat was filled. We walked up and down asiles, unsure on how to secure the coveted spot. People had us paranoid saying that we would never get in without a reservation, and if we did, we would have 1 hour lines. Well, Sarah cornered a waitress who took her up into the private boxes. When I tried to follow, security headed me off and it took some convincing charades to persuade them to let me by (no bracelet, no reserved seat). The waitress dropped us off at a table full of locals who had booked two tables for the whole day but weren’t using all the seats until later. So they let us take a spot. It turned out to be the best luck in the world.
Beer is not served until 12:00 noon on the first day once the mayor of Munich (in the next tent over) has tapped the ceremonial keg. So we had an hour to kill eating sausages (no chicken until noon either). A mighty cheer went up as the band entered the tent a paraded around the perimeter for about 15 minutes. They were followed by a procession of important-looking people, including the tent owner who was met with much applause. They carried a large flag and had an entourage of about 100 people. Just before 12, a person welcomed the crowd and started a countdown (in German) as if it was New Year’s Eve. When the clock struck 12, the place went wild and immediately, waitresses were carting handfuls of beer to eager tables. A yelp of anticipation came each time the waitress approached, only to be met with a moan when she stopped at a neighboring table. Around 45 minutes later, Sarah and I finally grasped the handles of our beers and took the first, delicious sips. Prost!
The band kicked up the Ompah music and toasts and good wishes were exchanged periodically. Every so often, a German resident would come sit next to us and chat for a while. They were all extremely nice and did their best to include us, even though we couldn’t understand their exchanges. The two we were closest with, Clause and Hans, gave us much info on the tent, including how they are owned, run, built, and stored. The “owner” of our table had been renting it for 17 years and invited many of the same people back each time. Pretzel would show up and shared as a generous person would buy them for the table. Later, the table owner came back with roses for all of the ladies, including Sarah. It was a great experience sitting with the locals for about 6 hours and learning so much. Overall, the tent was relatively mild for having 10,000 people in it. Songs were sung, and some of the typical bravado was done (I’ll get into that), but in comparison to other tents, it was much more of a local hangout, true to good music and good people.
We said our goodbyes just before 5pm (having been kicked out due to the tables turning over from the afternoon to evening session). So we headed out into the busy streets and ended up just one or two tents over at Spaten. There was a line and we figured we would have to wait. But little by little people were seeping in and within 5 min, Sarah and I were in a beer garden. The hostess showed us to a table of Canadians and Australians and we were welcomed. It soon became painstakingly apparent that we were the oldest ones there. A guy next to us was dubbed “Grandpa” as he was far older than the rest (at the age of 30) and most of them were 20 or 21. Within the hour a few were leaning on our backs, others passed out on the table. One guy was hanging all over a girl and they apparently “married” earlier that day – she was German and 16 – he was Canadian and 21, a lasting relationship no doubt. We called it good after a few hours there and stumbled to the carnival rides, always a great decision after a day of drinking. After spending far too many Euros and wandering around in a lame and pointless amusement house, we emerged, calling it a day.
After a few beers, getting home on the subway was a challenge. Justin opted to be passive and let Sarah guide the way. However, Sarah did not know the correct route so the Walkers bounced up and down the train tracks. It was not Justin’s proudest moment. But they made it home to retire.
The next morning dawned early. A quick breakfast, check-out, and back to the grounds for round 2! While sitting in the metro station not a single other person was there. Do you know how weird it is to be in a subway station alone? It was creepy.
Augustiner was Justin’s favorite beer place the last time we were in Munich so we went to this hall at about 8:30am. No one seemed to be there, which was odd. We met a guy wearing a Michigan sweatshirt (surprise, surprise, he didn’t actually go to Michigan, just like 98% of people who wear that gear) and invited him to join us. Justin wandered around the back of the building and found why we were only standing with a few people in front – hundreds had already joined a line at the side. We waited 10 minutes and burst into the hall just after 9am, grabbing a prime seat next to the beer. The next few hours we talked and listened to house music, munching on pretzels and toasting new comers to the table. Some girls from Brazil sat next to us, and when they left, a group of crazy men from Italy scooted in. While we couldn’t understand much, we gathered that they were friends and one of them played professional soccer in Italy. Chicken for lunch and around 2pm we said our goodbyes, eager to see the rest of the fair before leaving for the airport.
We walked the midway, buying cookies for the girls, and went down to the Hippodrom, the hopping party tent at the end of the strip. It was a packed, wild, madhouse. This is where later that week Usain Bolt and Samuel L. Jackson were spotted, as are most celebrities that frequent the fair. Overwhelmed by the intensity, we rolled on to Hofbrauhouse, one of the biggest and most touristy. We were not disappointed. In stark contrast to the tranquil environment of the tents filled by locals, this one had most people standing on the tables, beer flying through the air, glasses smashing onto the floor (and each other) and people getting tossed out). I think the only German’s in there were the ones serving beer. We asked if we could slide in with some Australians and ended up standing with them (as the benches and tables were covered in beer). Sarah was a bit over the all-day drinking and soon we called it a day, needing to make our way to the airport for our return flight. It is a miracle we made it, and after alternating naps in the airport, boarded our plane back to Johannesburg, rounding out the 20 hour plane trip for the 36 hours of all-out Oktoberfest fun. And in truth, I wouldn’t have done it any other way!
Part III: October, Johannesburg, South Africa
In an anticlimactic event, we rolled into the annual Bierfest at Montecasino. Give other competing events, we went on a Sunday afternoon. The beer, though brewed in a German style, is actually South African, and the food is terrible, unless you like polony, stale pretzels, and hardened cheese. The music alternates between traditional music and modern covers, but the toast is said no less than 500 times. While we have had some fun there in the past, I realize as I write this up that it in no way deserves the space of the true Oktoberfest. I am always on the lookout for fun events like this, but I don’t recommend going if you have managed to hit up Munich in September the same year.
