Adventures of the Featherbrained Freeloaders

Okay, I´ve been taking some heat for my lack of production. My apologies to all those who have been eagerly awaiting the next post. Hopefully this will satiate your curiosity…

Lisa and Graeme are in Berlin! Yay us!

It´s been a long & winding road to get here filled with moments of laughter, joy and pure terror (at least for those with fear of heights). Here are some highlights:

Arrive in Hamburg on the evening of Sept. 21st. Greated by our smiling host Dietrich who offers us each a tall bottle of Astra, the community beverage, which we greatfully accept. The weathers warm, so we ditch our bags and grab a patio seat at the local Turkish eatery. D takes charge of ordering but in his excitement orders up food for a family of 6. Not a problem, we´re all hungry, and the mixed grill is delicious so long as you avoid the `internals.´ This occasion is notable as the first of many subsequent experiences with ´street meat´as Lisa affectionately calls it. Turns out Germany has been overrun by Doner Imbiss, which are like 99cent pizza joints back home, except they are run by real Turks who make the most fantastic Gyros. Health food it ain´t, but there´s nothing better for the under 2 Euros.

We cruised the streets of Hamburg during the day and partied at night. It´s the best city in Northern Germany for nightlife so we indulged a little. As a strange side note, Hamburg bars all seem to have a FoozBall table tucked in a corner, locals play all night and are unbelievably good, a pair of innocent looking Damens made short work of me and D. Anyways, with history dating back to the 11th century, a population 1.7million, and a massive port for container ships, Hamburg is an interesting mix. Lisa and I loved walking through the downtown and along the Harbour. We´ll explore it more next week before we fly back to London.

On the 23rd Lisa, Graeme, Dietrich, Mike (Victoria born, Uvic grad, works 14hr days in London, will be filthy rich before 35), Frank (German born, Victoria raised, Uvic grad, works in software development, gets paid to travel places I want to go) and Lars (EastGerman born, West German raised, Uvic grad, works as civil adjudicator in Halle, a.k.a. ´the judge´) all set off for Munich in a rented VW Passenger Van. Total trip distance was roughly 700km. With four lengthy pit stops we still managed to make it there in about 7 hours. The autobahn lives up to its reputation. The farthest right lane is very, VERY FAST.

Our accomodation was ultra low end. We rented tents. In the Olympic Horse riding stadium. That´s right, we camped in horse shit. Well, not quite, it was more of a gravel´grass mixture, but manure was definitely present. Nonetheless, Wien´sn Kamp was well attended, lots of fellow campers from every country imaginable, though when we arrived it was late at night and most of them had been drinking since 8:00am. So the onsite Biergarten was a bit of a gongshow. Whilst sipping our first official Munich 1litre mug a gay frenchmen started hitting on Mike. Not a big deal, Mike´s used to this sort of thing, so he politely declined the invitation to Umpa Dance, which was for the best, cause 5 minutes later the frenchmen had found a compatriat in a speedo and souvenir hat. When they started a congo line we new it was time for bed.

I´d like to interupt the story for a moment to thank Lisa´s dad for lending her the wonderful ultra light space saving sleeping bag. Without it, Lisa would only be able to pack 4 pairs of shoes, and on a bitterly cold night in Munich there´s nothing better than an extra set of high heels. Except, maybe a mouth guard, to stop your teeth from shattering as you tremble to death in your ultra light space saving sleeping bag. Thanks Kel!

Okay, enough chit chat, lets get down to business. It´s Oktoberfest time!

First things first, arrive at the central fairground before 8:00am to beat the lineups. There are 10 massive tents to choose from, each representing a local brewery and each trying to outshine the next. Like choosing from a lineup of portapotties, one must carefully survey the competition, inspect the premises, sniff around a bit. And when you find the stall to your liking, plant yourself down and stay awhile. In our case, roughly 12 hours. Now you may be thinking, `12 hours at the same bench? that seems awfully long´ which is what I initially thought. But this is a time honoured tradition that dates back to the 1870´s, who am I to question? Thus we assumed our stations and introduced ourselves to Edith, the lovely Bavarian bar maid who would serve us, humour us, and catch us when we´re falling over the course of the day. Edith (pronouced E-Dit) is about 45 by our reckoning and was once a real beauty. She´s a bit grizzled these days, but her fitness is unmatched. I can´t imagine lugging 6 to 10 litres back and forth through a raucous beer hall without a break. Edith was the bomb.

About the beer. It´s good. Light. Golden. Fresh. No additives, just water, yeast, hops and barley. And it comes in 1 litre mugs. So after we´d polished off our first mug before 9am we´d effectively drank 3 cans in the ordinary sense. But the weird part is, no one is doing the math while it´s going down. And since there were originally 6 of us at the table it seemed natural that we each buy a round. Maybe this was abit too ambitious, cause by the 4th or 5th round our only scorekeeper was Edith, and she wasn´t telling. With no normal measure of consumption, no time constaints, no responsibilities to remember and no idea what the people around you are talking about, it´s a recipe for complete inebriation.

From what I remember of the food, it was excellent. Bratwurst is nothing more than a gourmet hotdog, with gourmet mustard, on a bed of pickled cabbage – what´s not to like? And the entertainment is authentic, proud and ridiculous all at once. Fat men in Leiderhosen playing horns while a large woman yodels and sings to the beat of a waltz. They also like to cover the occasional western hit, circa 1984, with German translations of the verse and an English chorus. Great sing alongs! The hall is full by noon and everyone is standing on there benchs by 1 oclock. Benches are tippy so be careful! D took the award for most bails, one in particular was a classic. He flopped back onto a table of young Italien girls who he´d has his eye on since breakfast. His grand entrance didn´t go as planned. 50 Euros later he´d bought them all drinks to make up for the ones he´d dumped on there laps.

Oktoberfest isn´t just about drinking though. The fairgrounds draw more locals and almost as many tourists to the rides and midway. It´s a big fair, like most you´ve been too, except all the games, rides and food are a little bit different. For example you can purchase a cold fish sandwich or a bag of sugar coated almonds. You can then jump on the spinning arm thingy and have the German conductor croon in his hilarious German voice ´ein fluschgafen und halfen bitte ´(do you want to go faster) to which everyone responds ´JA!!!!!!` Stumbling away from the spinning arm thingy you can enjoy a quick game of swing the mallet-ring the bell. This is the one where you bonk the pad and it sends a ball zipping up a pole to go ding at the top, if you´re strong enough. It´s a fun game at first, the crowd loves your antics, until the 60 year old Bavarian meister steels your thunder by ringing the bell repeatedly ONE HANDED. Oh the shame…

I´ll quickly wrap up the Oktoberfest entry by stating the obvious. 7 litres of beer does not make for a chipper traveling partner. Monday was pretty much a write off, most of us were a bit pukey, and we didn´t break camp til late afternoon. It was worth it.

From munich, we all went our seperate ways. Frank and Lars headed east to Hälle, Mike and D back north to Hamburg, while Lisa and Graeme went into town, checked out the main touristy bit, than rented a car and buggered off. Next stop: Garmisch, the Bavarian Alps, and the Romantic Road.

Read about it in the next post!