Ireland 2014

Given my passion for celebrating St. Patrick’s Day like it is Christmas, it was only fitting we flew to Ireland in March to see how it is properly done in Dublin. With the family in tow and joined by our friends David and Helen, we made our way to the Emerald Isle for a week of Irish culture, and of course, Irish beer. Ticking the bucket list item of St. Patrick’s Day in Dublin, Ireland was the bonus.

Landing in Dublin and being chatted up the whole ride by our cabbie, we arrived on one of the best weather days of the week. Partly sunny and chilly, it would only get worse from there. Desperate for food, the Killkenny offered up our best Irish breakfast of the week, and we had good basis for judgment considering we ate it every day. Full and ready to hit the streets, we stopped at the famous Book of Kells in the Old Library of Trinity College.

Moving on, we entered St. Patrick’s Cathedral, full of its splendid stained glass and many centuries of history. It was a clash of boisterous tourism and solemn reverence. Like most cities with a grand religious landmark, the visit is well worth the time due to the sheer size and storied past. To cap off a trip around the city, we attended the Guinness Storehouse at St. James’ Gate. Grandiose on a regular weekday, the extravaganza was in full swing on the Saturday of St. Paddy’s weekend. What is normally a bright, vibrant display of one of the oldest breweries in the world was transformed into a wild, jam-packed sea of movement from display to beer stand. Thankfully, our pre-purchased online tickets saved us waiting in the 1-hour entry line. Free food and the occasional beer made for a good time, although many of the things we wanted to do, such as the Connoisseur Experience, were closed due to the festivities. We finished up the evening watching MSU in the Big 10 tournament.

The following morning we all wandered over to the nearby Windmill Lane, home of the studios responsible for producing some of the best rock music of all time, including several albums by U2. Though no longer in operation, the graffiti-covered walls are home to many statements of gratitude penned by loyal fans and tourists. Sarah and Justin left the kids with David and Helen and headed to St. Stephen’s Green and the annual Dublin St. Patrick’s Day 5K run. With no particular intentions other than to tour the city by foot with several thousand others, we ran a calm and collected 20:17, a great time for Sarah with little training. Most importantly, we had a great time, seeing the childhood homes of Oscar Wilde and his statue in the park. Our evening was supposed to conclude with a trip to the horribly crowded and rancorous Temple Bar area for a traditional Irish music pub crawl. Despite my best efforts to ensure the event would happen, it was not on for that night at this time of year, and rather than continue to rub elbows with thousands of beer-covered tourists in the loudest bars in town, we headed back to the hotel, buying beers from the store, and thoroughly enjoying watching Michigan State kick the hell out of Michigan for the Big Ten title.

St. Paddy’s Day dawned as it always does, with the playing of U2’s “Where the Streets Have No Names” live video from the 1980s. From that it was a departure from the norm. Justin went for a run and photographed many of the local sites, including the General Post Office, a significant building in the modern history of Dublin. The city was up early preparing for the parade. Unbeknownst to us, beer is not served before noon in Ireland on a holiday. Missing out on the Guinness with our Irish breakfast was disappointing. We made our way to the main part of town and grabbed a spot to watch the parade. Two hours early left us still stretching for a view of the street. The wind blew hard and the children quickly grew bored of sitting on the pavement. The noon start still meant we waited until almost 1pm for the parade to reach us and even then could only see bits of the floats. Freezing and fed up we headed to the nearest pub, JW Sweetmans, where we had local beer and watched much of the parade on TV. However, all of the Dublin bars had removed all seating to accommodate the masses that day and with the kids on the floor again, we gave up and headed toward the hotel. Luckily we happened into a very low key, traditional pub and were greeted well by the locals and had several beers in a more authentic experience. After dropping the kids at the hotel with a babysitter, we headed out again, this time to O’Donoghue’s to catch some Irish music. The place was packed out, over capacity by at least 50% and we ended up finding the music – two guys sitting on a bench in a small room with at least 40 people packed in. Although the music was amazing and great craic, we had to bail as it was just too much. We went into a bar across the street and ultimately ended at one down the road where we finally got to talk personally and enjoy ourselves, though we were shhhhhh’ed by the barman many times (apparently this pub was the only pub in Dublin on March 17th that wanted it quiet).

Bright and early Justin ran to the rental place and picked up the van. The whole lot of us piled into the vehicle for the ride to Cashel, where we visited the famous Rock of Cashel, a large cathedral-type ruin over a quaint town. Said to be the seat of kings for centuries, it was a great site though the wind blew at horrendous speeds outside the castle walls. Onward we drove to Cork and out to the Jameson Distillery for the Jameson Experience – a tour of the grounds and a whiskey tasting, complete with certificate. Exhausted, dinner was in the hotel pub.

Moving on from Cork in the morning we proceeded to the small town of Blarney and walked the grounds of Blarney Castle. Beautiful gardens and rock caves line the perimeter of an iconic Irish castle. This site, of course, is home to the Blarney Stone. High atop the castle rests a slate of rock that, if kissed, bestows the Gift of Gab or eloquence. This is in itself a very Irish quality and many, many people take the time to climb the winding stairs and wait for their opportunity to kiss the stone. Even Taelyn did it, which is very fitting given her talkativeness. Our next stop was the town of Bunratty. We posted up in a guesthouse and left the children with the owner to have an adults only dinner at Bunratty Castle. This show is a medieval dinner complete with harps, singing, jokes, costumes, and mead (honey wine). The all-you-can-eat/drink evening was a great show with good friends.

Blasted with pouring rain the next morning, we headed north from Bunratty to Doolin, stopping on the way to see the Cliffs of Moher. Towering over the Irish Sea, these rock walls are amazing examples of the beauty of the Irish landscape. Filmgoers would know them from the Princess Bride as the “Cliffs of Insanity.” Despite their beauty, our trip was difficult as the winds were nearing 40 mile per hour. When walking along precarious cliff edges 300 feet above the seas with small children, harsh winds add an element of danger to the already risky outing. Frozen and hungry, we warmed in a pub in Doolin with the locals before driving on to Galway.

Galway offered a place to stop and relax. With more basketball on and the rains pounding, warm, dry seats and cold beer proved a nice alternative to walking the promenade in Salthill in the rain. Our attempt to head outside of the city to a medieval town ended with the main attraction being closed, though we did get to meander small back roads lined with rock walls and spotted with sheep. The green, rolling hills of the West of Ireland are a gorgeous site.

While Ireland provided some great views and sites, the experience was somewhat disappointing. Far too many tourist flood Dublin for the holiday, thereby limiting some sites and experiences. The weather in March is terrible and our next trip to this great country will focus on the beauty of the west and north, probably in summer!

This free digital scrapbook customized with Smilebox

European Christmas 2013

Desperate to get a more traditional feel to Christmas (yet unwilling to pony up for the flight to the US), we decided we would hit up Central Europe for a taste of cold weather and Christmas cheer.

Our visit to Budapest was amazing. Let’s skip past the drive where we waited for 45 min to get into the city then drove past our place and had to do a 30 min over and back across the Danube River to find it. Another 45 min to park the car and the good times could start. We rented an apartment perfectly located – city (Pest) center and just 50 feet from a tram line, meaning we never were outside too long for transport. We stayed at the Green Dream Apartment at a rate about ½ of the going cost of a smaller place. We could see the Buda Palace, Parliament, and the Danube River from the entrance, meaning running was amazing along the river and on the island. It also didn’t hurt to have a bakery in front and a Belgian beer place in the back.

Our first stop was the Terror House which shows video, audio, photographs, and artifacts from Nazi and post-war communist activity. Three stories of museum, complete with jails and execution stands in the basement, remind us all of the horrible actions committed by man this century. We were appalled, not only by the history but also our ignorance that these atrocities happened in the past 60 years and we had no idea they occurred.

Perhaps the key thing we wanted to do in Budapest was go ice skating in the park. Of course it mean crappy skates and terrible ice, but a chance to cruise the largest outdoor rink in Europe. The rink is situated in front of Vajdahunyad Castle, a building crafted in a combination of historical Hungary architecture into a single eclectic palace featuring styles from the Middle Ages to the 18th century: Romanesque, Gothic Renaissance, Baroque buildings. The crisp air of a European winter with the a castle as a backdrop while Christmas song play throughout the park, does it get any more festive than that? Amazing. For dinner, the four of us braved the cold and walked 2km to the Iguana Mexican restaurant. Why would someone go into a Mexican place in Hungary? Because all the people inside were Hungarians and they have amazing food! We sipped on beers and cocktails (the girls had hot chocolate) and we munched burritos, enchiladas, fried ice cream, and sopapillas.

The other main purpose of the venture to Budapest was to hit the Christmas market in Vörösmarty Square. Sparking lights and stalls of vendors provide ample views while munching on töki pompos (oven-baked dough), delicious kürtöskalács (a cone-shaped sweet hollow pastry), sipping hot mulled wine, and guzzling sour cherry beer. Holiday music was piped in overhead and it was everything we hoped for in a market.

Prague takes the cake as an amazing city. Unbelievable architecture, cobble-stone streets, art, music, parks. From the walk across the Charles Bridge to looking at the Astronomical Clock, Prague offers sights around every corner worth a photo. Our first day was spent at the Prague Castle, which was only a 5 min train ride away yet took 45 minutes (the castle is between two metro stops and we couldn’t figure out which was shorter for the kids so spent a lot of time going back and forth). Situated high on the hill, it overlooks all of Prague and is spectacularly huge. We did the “short tour” and saw many amazing rooms, churches, and chapels. The girls grabbed hot dogs from a street vender while we opted for a traditional lunch.

The night market, post-Christmas, did not disappoint! Live music in the square and sparkling lights on the gigantic tree set the mood. People wander shops, munching on kielbasa, potato dishes, cinnamon rolls, and sip grog, mulled wine, cider, and beer. Horse-drawn carriages transport people to and from the square and the smell of cinnamon mixes with pine for a truly Christmas feel.

We decided to skip on the absinthe as it is taboo and a tourist trap. Luckily, there was plenty of delicious beer. The Czechs have the market cornered on solid beer. I am a fan of Belgian and German brews, but these Czech brewskies are climbing quickly in my book. Lights, darks, wheat; they all rock. The highlight was the Prague Beer Museum.

Much of our time was spent in little visited Bratislava, Slovakia. Not much to look at, this quaint little city acts as a launching pad to many of the other destination. Less than a couple of house to Prague and Budapest and just 45 minutes to Vienna, this was an ideal location. Plus, just one mile from the house we stayed in was a gigantic park with hundreds of kilometers of trail. With a fireplace and a backyard, it was all we could have hoped for. Our days were spent running on the trails, playing at the playground, and popping over the boarder to Hungary to a beautiful local restaurant along the river. We sampled traditional goulash, wandered the grounds, and checked out the farm animals on site. Our evenings were spent at the local Christmas markets, or sitting in front of the fire and watching holiday movies.

Digital slideshow generated with Smilebox

Oktoberfest 2013

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!

Another photo album by Smilebox

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.