So we knew (thanks to friends who have gone previously and Lonely Planet's Central Europe guidebook) to book our flights and hotels way in advance, but even a 6 month advance booking did not net us convenient flights or cheap hotel/hostel rooms. Our flight to Munich involved leaving Malaga (an hour and 45 minute drive) Monday night at 11:30 pm, arriving in London-Stansted (way out there) at 1:30am, flying from London to Memmigen at noon that day, taking an hour and a half shuttle to Munich proper and then walking from the train station (I act like it was so far; it was like 4 blocks) to our hotel.
Malaga, despite Sevilla being the larger city, has more flight options throughout Europe, and especially to London. Malaga is a hot "holiday" spot for the Brits, so it's like little England down there and the flights to London are cheap and abundant. We utilized a car parking service, "Chips Away!" (you probably read that as Chips Ahoy! I did too at first...) which was recommended to us by friends that is run by Brits. Instead of parking our car (which is necessary to get to Malaga in the first place) in the airport lot for 15 euro a day, these guys picked up the car from us at the Departure drop-off zone, parked it for 5 euro a day and then brought it right to us after we picked up our luggage on our return. Not a bad deal at all, and it only cost us 25 euro to park as opposed to 75.
After a late dinner at a sports bar that desperately wanted to be located in Boston, we boarded our first EasyJet flight. It looks like that will also be our LAST EasyJet flight. Not only did it end up taking FOREVER to board the plane, but the greeting flight attendant got into it with another passenger, went in to the cockpit to bitch to the pilot, then proceeded to slam the cabinet doors shut the entire flight. Granted, the passenger over-reacted, but the attendant did not need to take out her pissy attack on the rest of us during a red-eye flight. Her and her fellow Pan-Am chiquitas also yapped and laughed loudly the entire flight. Couple them making a ruckus with the demon child 2 rows up who SCREAMED from midnight until we landed, and I felt like I was in the bowels of hell. That kid must've been sick or had an ear infection or something, because demonic possession is the only other "illness" that causes that type of shrieking. Needless to say, I got zero sleep on that flight.
We decided not to be tight-wads and sleep in the airport and got a cheap hotel room (at the Hilton if you can believe it) after waiting an hour to get our luggage. During that time we further got to hear Damian scream and see a cheeky Brit show his pals the new tattoo he got on his ass. If ever there was a "Wtf??" moment in an airport, that was it. Our hotel was nearby though, and we completely crashed the second we got into our room. So glad we went that route, as we would have been exhausted the next day and one of us may have gotten sick. Better not to be beat than save a few euro (or pounds in this case).
Our flight wasn't until 12:30, so we were able to sleep in and get an early lunch at the airport. I had this delicious chicken jalapeno wrap that had this chili sauce and cheese that was amazing; it was so good I wanted another one, but it's for the best that I didn't. All my fellow passengers would not have appreciated me having a second one, I'm sure. The flight from London to Memmigen (West Munich) was very smooth, and I slept the whole time. I woke up while we were landing and was able to look out the window and see the small Bavarian towns comprised of gingerbread-looking houses with red roofs and lots of green grass and full trees. It was a welcome break from the stark brownness of southern Spain this time of year. I couldn't stop chuckling to myself after looking out the window and saying to Elliot, "Hey! I think someone's nailing something to that church door!" He didn't appreciate the joke nearly as much as I did. I also appreciated the cooler weather once getting off the plane. Spain's weather is fantastic during the winter and spring (I don't really even mind the summer), but I do miss fall weather. Coming from DC, that was the perfect time of year there, and I do miss the crisp mornings/nights and Pumpkin Spiced Lattes. I also miss going to Haunted trails and making s'mores by a smokey campfire (we did that last year); it's the little things that you miss the most!
Memmigen Airport is in the middle of NOWHERE and only has about 7 gates with 2 airlines servicing them. It's an hour and a half away from Munich proper, so we boarded the shuttle bus to get there. They must know that people are annoyed by the distance, so they sold beer on board for 1.50 euro. Not like crappy beer either, big bottles of honest to goodness Deutsch beer. That delighted us and all the Manchester City fans who were in town to see their team play Munich. One guy we were talking to was especially boisterous and burst out a loud rendition of "Blue Moon" (apparently their team's song?) throughout the bus ride. Unfortunately for us, we got a faceful of his blue (more like pale) moon when he reached up to grab his bag from above the seats. It was like in the movies where there's a running tally and bell:
-Bare British Asses: 2
We made it to Munich without anymore Moons over Miami, but I did end up spilling my beer into my lap and spending the rest of the trip wet and stinky. Peeking through the windows and seeing girls in dirndls and guys in those Cat-in-the Hat-esque beer mug hats made me forget briefly about my hops-soiled diaper.
Our hotel was called Hotel Prasident and was decorated with Andy Warhol-like pictures of former American Presidents. I almost pitched a fit when I didn't see Obama's face, as we all know how much I like advertising my Prezzie love (see Desperate Times Call for Obama Socks entry). Our room was pretty nice, on the fifth floor with surprisingly comfortable beds. It was a good thing we ended up getting a hotel room in London, as we had the energy to start exploring Munich right away.
We decided to head towards Marienplatz, which appeared on our map to be the center of the city. On our way through the adorable Bavarian streets, we spotted a shop that specialized in dirndls, lederhosen and all their accoutrement. Elliot had wanted to get lederhosen ahead of time, but they were so ridiculously expensive online that we passed on them. Until then. The shop was like Bavaria's version of a flamenco dress shop, only with uh, German clothes. Much like a flamenco shop, you could find dirndls ranging from 75 euro to over 350, and every accessory under the sun. I asked a salesgirl who spoke broken English for help choosing a size, and she hooked me up with 2 ninety euro dirndls and a belly-blouse to wear under underneath to try on. The green (my favorite, natch) was way too tight in the bust, so I went with the same style dirndl in a size up and in purple. Lemme just say: HO-LY BOOBS. I would never wear that belly blouse without the jumper part as it's something Daisy Duke would have worn, and I haven't had the confidence (or the abs for that matter) to pull off that look since high school. But I did have some crazy cleavage going on, much to the delight I'm sure of my lederhosen-clad hubby....
After purchasing our get-ups, we followed the sound of drunken singing. The singing actually led us to Marienplatz where we encountered the most elaborate and magnificent "town hall" I've ever seen. Picture a Gothic castle....with a glockenspiel in front.
http://www.gothereguide.com/Images/Germany/Munich/Marienplatz_Munich.jpg
The glockenspiel sounds at 10am, 11am and 5pm everyday, but we unfortunately got there too late to see the Austrian soldier depicted lose his life. A good thing, I suppose...
The source of the singing was a group of shit-faced baby-blue (moon) clad Manchester City fans gathered outside of one of the Platz's beer halls. Everyone had steins of hefeweizen and were mowing down on wurst, so we decided to grab a table inside since this was where all the fun seemed to be happening. We were able to grab a pub-style table right by the inside door, and the service was actually great despite how crowded the bar was. We both had hefeweizens with lemonade added and split this plate of German goodies: sauerkraut with bacon chunks (you could taste the bacon fat in the flavor), cold vinegar-based potato salad, a warm pretzel, white sausage and Bavarian meatloaf (essentially bologna). Elliot also got a bratwurst and some fries to go with the apps. The meatloaf and white sausage were good, especially with the honey-flavored dijon mustard, but the potato salad and sauerkraut were by far the best. They were incredibly tasty, so much so that I ordered another plate of just potato salad. Elliot gave me shit for it, but I didn't care; it was THAT good. Now I'm on the hunt for good vinegar-based potato salad. If anyone's got a recipe, throw it my way.
After our meal of German champions, we strolled back past our hotel, on the Schwanthalerstasse (the main drag) towards the OTHER hot spot-the legendary Oktoberfest. You really don't need a map to find it; just follow the bright lights and roar of the crowd. By the time we saw the carnival lights and grounds of the fest, people were already pretty far in the bag. Elliot claims to have seen 15 guys peeing; I only saw one. Still, the dangers of urine-splashed shoes were small potatoes compared to the excitement we felt at being at the actual Oktoberfest. It was definitely an "I can't believe we're here!" experience. You just instantly become awe-drunk at the sounds of the music playing, people singing, kids screaming on carnival rides and just an overall sense of merriment. We wandered through the festival grounds with all the beer tents, marveling at their detail and the sheer size of them. There were stalls selling gingerbread heart cookies with frosting greetings, others selling souvenir t-shirts, wizard-looking hats, steins and other Oktoberfest and carnival items, and more selling hot pretzels. There are smells of cinnamon, fried dough and spilt beer, and the crowd is still going strong, even for a Tuesday night. We went around the back of the tents by this big hill and saw a ton of people sleeping it off or making out. As we passed the Hofbrauhaus (the most famous of the Oktoberfest beer tents), we heard a collective roar go up when the first few chords of Sweet Home Alabama played. We both agreed that our friend Brian (an Alabama alum and native) would have just been in heaven. The atmosphere was electrifying, and the fest was like Feria but with beer, better food and skankier outfits.
We eventually made our way out of the fest grounds and to a permanent beer hall in Munich recommended by Lonely Planet, Augustiner Brauhaus. The inside was decorated with garlands of hops, from which hung pretzels, wooden benches and huge tables and barrel tops painted with images of monks brewing and drinking beer. El and I ordered hefeweizens (a recurring theme on our travels), and he had an apple strudel that was apparently made with manna from heaven. We passed many a chariot-bike taxis blasting bumping club music as we walked back to our hotel in what appeared to be the Red Light District of Munich. Don't get me wrong, it was a clean, safe and hopping area, but there was no shortage of casinos and places with names like "Bad Angel" that advertised table dances. Sigh. We once again crashed the second we got back and dreamt sweet dreams of bratwurst that were occasionally punctured by the sounds of Paris sounding-ambulance sirens outside.
The next morning we had breakfast at the hotel, which turned out to be a pretty decent spread complete with scrambled eggs with cut up bacon in them. I went with plain old German bread with butter (still dang good) and some strawberry yogurt. After breakfast, we walked back towards Marienplatz and did a tour of the Residenz museum and theater complex. We went into the Egyptian museum which, despite its size, was pretty awesome. They had some sarcophagi that were impeccably preserved, fragments of busts of Akhenaten (the monotheistic Pharaoh married to Nefertiti) and Ramses II (much better preserved since people actually liked him), and these little figurines whose label I was able to figure out based on context and common sense ("erotik" or something like that)....
We walked through the famed Viktualienmarkt where stalls for food, nuts and drinks were selling their wares. We also picked up a few Munich magnets, postacards and beer steins. We had lunch al fresco at the Ayinger Brauhaus across the street from the permanent Hofbrauhaus, where we dined on half roasted chickens with potato-cucumber salad for me and french fries for Elliot. The food was once again delicious, and we finished up just as we got a phone call from our friend Jake letting us know that he and his buddy Joe had just gotten into Munich.
Jake is one of our AF friends from DC who is actually "deployed" to Germany for six months. His friend Joe that came with is also deployed to Germany out of New Jersey. We wasted absolutely no time after meeting up and headed straight towards Oktoberfest.
I was actually really surprised by how kid-friendly Oktoberfest is during the day; there were a TON of families walking around and going on rides as we weaved our way around the fairgrounds. Despite the (apparently 15) people who pee outdoors once they've had too many (probably Americans I hate to say), the fairgrounds are kept REALLY clean, and there are actually bathroom trailers with functioning toilets rather than port-a-potties, and they are staffed by attendants charged with keeping the order and it clean. We later found out that there are some strict laws in Germany regarding cleanliness, so everywhere was pristine-looking. I guess I had in mind some sort of sloppy drunken fest (probably thanks to Beerfest) when I thought of what Oktoberfest would be like, but I was thankfully proven wrong. It was like Carnaval in Cadiz where people are just having a good time; no one's looking to start trouble or act like an ass.
We found a table in the Ammer biergarten, settled down with a few steins and some delicious creamy potato soup that we dipped torn pieces of pretzel in. I was the only one that ordered anything to eat but somehow everyone managed to polish off my soup with me....We had some Russians next to us who spoke zero English, but fun knows no language barriers at Oktoberfest. After catching up and laughing at the fact that we were all together in Germany, I was ready to call it a night. I was just exhausted and the next day was the big one, so El walked me back to the hotel and then went back out with Jake and Joe.
Fast-forward to 3am, and Elliot comes in asking me to look at his hand. In my sleepy haze, I took one look at it and almost got sick. I am a total wuss when it comes to injuries, I'll readily admit. He had tripped on a curb, and while he reached out with his right hand to break his fall (he's lucky he didn't break his wrist), his left hand had a mind of its own and basically karate-chopped the curb in question. His entire left hand was swollen and bruised, and his pinky looked like it had just gotten its ass kicked. I fortunately didn't let my queasiness too apparent and kept a level head, asking if he wanted me to get ice from the front desk or take him to a doctor. He said that while it hurt, he was just going to try to sleep off the pain and there wasn't really going to be much he was going to be able to do at 3am. He fell asleep almost right away, surprisingly, but I was left wide-awake trying to get the images of his hand out of my mind and panicking over if I have kids and they break something, me fainting and leaving them to their own devices. I just focused on potato salad (of all things) and soon was releasing "ZZZZZzzzzs" in cartoon speech bubbles myself....
Being that we had a long day ahead of us, we had a hearty hotel breakfast in the morning (before donning our lederhosen of course) before meeting up with Jon (AF, our friend from DC and stationed in Germany), his girlfriend Mallory (AF, also stationed in Germany) and his best friend from home, Adam (visiting from the Chicagoland area). We had met up with Jon and Mal before, when we visited Dusseldorf and it's always awesome to see them. It was perfect too, as we had a table reserved for 10 at the famous (or infamous, whatever your experience may be) Hofbrauhaus from 11:30am until 4pm. They were driving from the Spangdahlem area, which is about 4-4.5 hours away, so they had to leave early to make the reservation. While Jon and Adam weren't wearing actual lederhosen, their "probably more appropriate on someone from Wyoming or Minnesota" shirts decorated with elks and leather-string ties at the neck somehow worked, and they actually fit in pretty well. Much to my delight (and the men I'm sure), Mal was also wearing a dirndl. Always good to have someone else in your group getting festive with you!
When we got to the Hofbrauhaus, the first floor was jam-packed with people and the band was already in full-swing, but the balconies were pretty empty. Since we booked late by Oktoberfest standards, our table was tucked away by the windows on the balcony level. There was a giant board that displayed our table area and number, but the actual finding of the table involved some detective work. Once we all got seated at the table that proudly displayed my name, our waitress informed us that we needed tickets for the beers and chickens we had pre-ordered months ago. She brought the beers for us anyway, but El and I had to go find this tiny office located behind the kitchen to retrieve our tickets. The office and process of retrieving the tickets was very unorganized, but at least everything was paid for previously, so it cut down on some of the wait time. It took about 15 minutes for us to get our 20 beer tickets and 10 chicken tickets, and we found out that the cheese platters we had ordered didn't require tickets. We thought that was strange and wondered how the waitress would know that we had actually paid for them.... Fortunately, our cheese platters had arrived by the time we got back, and everyone had waited for our return before taking a sip of their beer. With one giant PROST!, we clanked our liter glass steins of beer together and drank in the glory. While the beer wasn't the best one I had while I was in Munich, it still tasted amazing-probably a combination of the hops, atmosphere and excitement of being all together at Oktoberfest. We also had two big platters full of swiss, regular, and pepper (actual chunks of pepper) cheese cubes, some radishes (which I tasted to see if it actually tasted better in Bavaria. It did) and grapes. Crazy delicious. Kind of like Mr. Pibb and red vine. The benches were long and wooden, and the entire tent was decorated with hanging hops chandeliers. The center of the tent had a hanging "Aloysius" statue/chandelier, which is some German myth character, a sort of beer angel. He looked more like Swee' Pea from Popeye with a bushy mustache and harp.
Man, the Hofbrauhaus racket that went on would make Al Capone proud. First, the waitress tells us that we need to give her a euro for each beer/food item that we ordered despite them already being paid for. It was because she "didn't get paid", and these were her tips, which was probably bull. You're forced into following along, because you don't want to get the beer wench angry; she holds your beer destiny in her money-grubbing hands. I'd say she easily made 40euro off our table alone for those 4.5 hours, and she was serving at least 20 tables. She's pulling in over 2 grand in euros for one day's work. Despite that, she was awesome and always brought our beer and food orders to us right away, sometimes carrying 7 liter steins full of beer at once. It's like she was trained from a young age to be able to do that. It's mind-boggling. They've also got cute girls in lederhosen with belly shirts selling stale gingerbread heart cookies for 8 euro, souvenir shirts for God knows how much and breathalyzer tests for 4.50 euro APIECE. You know they make a fortune off everything b/c you've got this very predominantly male crowd hoping to get lucky with a Bavarian babe, so they're willing to drop plenty of euro to get their attention. The amount of money that these tents make is just ridiculous; I'm picturing Scrooge McDuck swimming pools full of Euro coins.
We were sitting next to a group of people who spoke non-British English, so Elliot asked them if they were Canadian. Why, I'm not sure, but he did. The girl he asked was about to take a sip of her beer, stopped, and shook her head while saying, "Noooooo". Not sure how that was insulting, but I'm also not sure how Elliot came to the conclusion that they were Canadian, not American. They were from the US sure enough, and a majority of the table was in the Air Force, a few even stationed in Europe. The others were stationed along the East Coast, including one who was friends with a family from Moron. I guess they were stationed together in Alaska, and when he asked if I knew them I went nuts. I was like, "Oh my God, they have two kids at the school!". The world really is a small place, and it gets even tinier within the Air Force.
Since it was early in the day, the band was playing more traditional polka and Bavarian music, but every five minutes they would play the drinking song of the Hofbrauhaus: Ein Prosit! By the end of our reservation, we all knew the words. Or what we thought were the words. Let's just say that we knew enough to SOUND like we knew the words. The second the band strikes those first chords, everyone grabs their steins, starts swinging them through the air and singing along. If I spelled it phonetically, the lyrics sounded like "Aye(n) prose-it, aye(n) proset, der gay mule kite." Elliot got a little too over-zealous in his prosting, as he ended up shattering his beer stein during a particularly rowdy toast. Instead of fessing up like mature adults, we hid the evidence under our table and just ordered another round. I guess they serve over 500,000 liters of beer per tent each Oktoberfest (or maybe it's even each week), so the empty glass steins are in abundance. We did walk by the kitchens at one point and saw the complex-looking machine they use to clean them. Basically, they put the steins upside down on a conveyer belt, and they go through this miniature car (stein) wash that cleans the mugs from all angles. Then the steins are steamed to ensure quick drying. I felt strangely comforted knowing that my beers would not come with a side of e-coli or Avian bird flu.
Throughout our reservation, many bold(ly foolish) people attempted to chug their entire liter of beer at once. Now, this is not a private matter at Oktoberfest. If you are going to gamble, go big or go home. That involves standing on top of your table, and having the crowd and band acknowledge your attempt. You can expect the crowd to cheer you on in your quest, but the second you stop, the crowd turns. The chug failure is mercilessly boo'ed and left to sink back to his/her table in shame. This is a quest that should involve some sort of preparation and not one to be taken lightly. There was some chick on the balcony level who had only a quarter of beer left in her stein before she started the challenge, and the crowd ignorantly went nuts when she downed her beer so quickly. Having the inside scoop, I boo'ed....
We reluctantly left our glorious table and started making our way to different tents and parts of the fest. We tried our hand at bumper cars, which was hilarious. Elliot looked like a little German boy in his lederhosen trying to take on the village wench (me) in those things; I couldn't stop laughing the entire time. I was disappointed, however, that the bumper cars did not reflect the types of cars actual Germans drive. It would have been pretty sweet to have a Beamer bumper car...
After bumper cars, we stopped at an outdoor small, patio "tent" that served Paulaner. Each glass came with a plastic poker chip that represented a 3euro deposit for each glass. They must've had their fill of people stealing glasses in the past and decided to do something about it. That's fine and all, but when Elliot tried to turn in two glasses and return 2 chips, they looked at him like he was nuts. When we returned the rest of the glasses later, they charged him for the 2 he had already turned in. Total bs, which is annoying.
By this point, it was already 6pm and the fest was PACKED. We attempted to make our way through different tents to find abandoned tables. Basically, if you don't have a table reservation, or really just a place to sit, you can't just go and order a beer to carry with you through the streets. Johnny Raincloud, Elliot, kept insisting that we would never be able to find a seat. I was beginning to think he was right, especially when we decided to do a last-ditch effort at the Hofbrauhaus. The crowd had practically tripled in size, and the balcony was the new place to be. The local tv station that was covering Oktoberfest had set up shop right across from where we had been, and all of the tables were full. We had just about given up our noble quest when Jake spotted a makeshift table that had been set up next to the regular ones. Clearly Hofbrauhaus had forgotten someone's reservation and set up a temporary table to appease them, so no one else had claimed it after that group had left. We nicknamed it "The Redheaded Stepchild Table", but we still got served by the waitress who had hustled us earlier in the day. Man, she was a welcome sight to see at that point, and we all toasted her with our steins when she returned with our order.
By that point in the night, the band was playing more modern music, and we sang along to "Take Me Home, Country Roads" and I went nuts when "Who the Fuck is Alice???" came on, as it has a special place in my heart (memories of me and my former roomie and overall one of my favorite people in the world, Brecka, on St. Patrick's Day 2007). Clearly that one is not one of the more popular sing-along songs in Bavaria, as I was the only one in the nearby vicinity who knew the lyrics (thanks to having it on my iPod).
Sadly, they were no longer serving food by the time we got our new table, so we were all starving as the night wore on. I wandered off in search of a chick selling pretzels and stumbled upon a random group of Croatian dudes sitting at a table that overlooked the fest below. Since everybody's best buddies at Oktoberfest, I sat down and shared my beer with them. In my mind, I must've been afraid the family patriach (it was an older guy in his 60's with a bunch of his grandsons) would kick me out, so I decided to turn on the charm and tell him that he was "such a handsome guy". I don't know why I do that after a few beers (see Bachelorette party last September); I also have a tendency to say "God bless you" to firefightsers and cops (see Bachelorette party and previously mentioned St. Patrick's Day 2007). No wonder old dudes love me. After having a broken conversation in English with my new Croatian pals, during which they asked where my girl friends were, they had to leave their table. As we were bidding adieu, they asked where I was from in America. They started going nuts when I answered Chicago and excitedly asked me if I knew who Toni Kukoc was. OF COURSE I know who Toni Kukoc is! He's the only Croatian I know, and the first thing I thought of when I heard they were Croatian. We went nuts together for about 30 seconds, and then high-fived good-bye. Needless to say, I went back to our table sans pretzels.
When the hunger pangs got too much to bear, we got late-night pizza from a take-out place and tried to squeeze in a "nap" before having to wake up at 5:40am to make our 6:25 shuttle back to the airport and Espana. In hindsight, it was not the most brilliant move to have our tent reservation the day before we needed to wake up at 5:40am......
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