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Ein Prosit! An Oktoberfest tale.

With Munich’s – perhaps the world’s – most famous beer festival celebrating the start of its 189th edition tomorrow, I thought it was time to write about my visit back in 2022. I arranged a trip to Munich to do some “research” on the festival. I had been to Munich before but never during this period and so the trip necessitated an amble around the Theresienwiese – the fairground where Oktoberfest takes place. I was alone on the trip and hadn’t made any tent reservations at the fair. A misconception about Oktoberfest is that you need to book a ticket to gain entry to the Wiesn (as it’s more commonly called) or to any of the 38 beer tents dominating the walkways of the urban space. This isn’t true at all. You can just stroll in and walk around to take in the sights.


Although table reservations are strongly recommended – or even essential – for groups of 8 or more, solo visitors, couples, and other small groups can show up at the front desk and generally will be seated. This is pretty much guaranteed during the daytime and on a weekday. On evenings and at weekends you’re chancing it a little more.

Being alone, it was a shoo-in and I was shown to a table in every tent I visited. But here’s the thing – and the reason why attending the Fest on your own is not quite the sad affair that it may seem – you are generally seated with others.

 

Before I start with my first port of call, I should really explain the tents. They are massive. And they aren’t really tents. If you had a large piece of canvas held up by poles in mind, then you’d be shocked. Even if your thoughts went straight to a large marquee that you might have attended a wedding in, forget all that. These are semi-permanent structures, often with another level or mezzanine and balcony. The Wiesn is made up of 38 tents – 17 “large” and 21 “small”. The largest of these can seat 12,000 people on rotation throughout the day. In an average year, around 7 million people attend. Each tent has a massive kitchen and a veritable army of lads and lasses sporting their lederhosen and dirndls to pour and deliver the giant maßkrug (one litre steins) of their delicious Festbier to the thirsty throng. A lively Oompah band plays throughout the day on a small stage and around every 15 minutes strikes up the song “Ein Prosit“, with lyrics that translate to “A toast, a toast to cheer and good times!” culminating with the chant “Eins! Zwei! Drei! G’Suffa!” - One, Two, Three, Drink!


A rule is that the beer must be brewed in Munich and must follow the German Purity law known as the Reinheitsgabot.

So on to my first stop, which was at the Paulaner tent. Paulaner is one of Munich’s “big six” breweries, established in 1634 by the Paulaner Order of mendicant friars. Despite there being so many beer tents at Oktoberfest, the beers served around the grounds are only brewed by these six breweries – the others being Augustiner, Löwenbräu, Hofbräu, Hacker-Pschorr,  and Spaten. A rule is that the beer must be brewed in Munich and must follow the German Purity law known as the Reinheitsgabot, which was established in Bavaria in 1516 and dictates that a brewery may only use barley, hops, and water when brewing their beers. They didn’t know about yeast back then, as wild yeast was fermenting their beers, so the law has since been updated to include yeast as an acceptable ingredient.

 

As I approached the entrance to the Paulaner Festzelt, I felt a little trepidation as to whether it would truly be so easy to appear in front of the host and procure a valuable place in their beer hall. To my glee, I was very quickly shown to a table for 4 people which was already inhabited by a young couple. They immediately welcomed me and introduced themselves as Wes and Aya. I placed my order for a “beer” (there’s no tap list here!) and received said brew in record time. We clinked glasses and I asked them about themselves. Wes is a pilot for DHL from the US and flies all around the world. The previous year he had flown to Osaka and had a couple of days free time before his return journey to Cincinnati.


Naturally he gravitated to the city’s vibrant nightlife and on that first night met local girl Aya. Neither mentioned the words “Love at First Sight” but just sitting there with them, it was obvious. Having spent a couple of days together on that trip, Aya travelled to LA for her work in fashion a few months later, and the couple rekindled their relationship. Now, with Paris Fashion Week around the corner, Aya was in Europe and Wes had flown to meet her for a few days. Wes’s father was Bavarian, so a plan to meet in Munich and enjoy the festival as part of their third “date” was hatched. In fact, his flight had landed at Munich Airport that morning and he hadn’t even been to the hotel yet. Aya, meanwhile, had arrived the previous evening and had taken a walk around the Theresienwiese to scope out where best for them to reunite.

 

They were dressed in traditional Bavarian costume (lederhosen for the men and dirndls for the ladies), as had the overwhelming majority of other visitors. It is common for Bavarians to own a high-quality version of these traditional outfits that they wear more frequently than you’d imagine. Look online at Amazon, or the likes, and you’ll find countless cheap knock offs. The Bavarians take great pride in the quality of their dress, generally passing them down through the generations. Wes was indeed wearing his father’s outfit and regaled me with the story of how he came to be American. His father moved to the Canary Islands, where Wes was born to a Spanish mother. Wes grins as he tells me that his father must have been a criminal, as the Canaries are where most German criminals move to! Having spent his first few years in those Spanish islands, the family moved to Cincinnati early enough for Wes to have no trace of either accent of his European heritage.

 

I ordered food – the traditional half chicken with sauerkraut – and spoke more with my table mates. To say that I was enthralled by this tale of blossoming young love was an understatement. I listened intently to their story while enjoying my litre of Paulaner’s rich, malty, and amber annual offering.


Max howled with laughter as Elias recounted the story of their 2017 visit.

Before long, I said my goodbyes to this charming couple and left the Paulaner tent. The pleasant September early afternoon sunshine beating down on me, I chose to head inside again – this time to the Fischer-Vroni tent, an ever present at Oktoberfest since 1904. Famed for their Steckerlfisch, a whole gutted fish – usually trout or mackerel – grilled on a stick, their beer offering is the stupendous Augustiner, Munich’s oldest independent brewery having been established in 1328. Once again, I was seated on a larger table, this time with three guys who introduced themselves as Christoph, Elias, and Max, three bankers from Frankfurt who come to the Wiesn every year. Now in their late 50s, they admitted that up until around 15 years ago they would come on weekend evenings. These days, the relative fuss-free atmosphere of a midweek afternoon suited them much better.

 

I declined the fish but eagerly anticipated the Augustiner beer. Once the heavy maßkrug full of the sweet, caramel nectar – the only one at the festival to still be served from wooden barrels – was in my hands I chatted with my three co-drinkers about their love of the Fest, and some of the tales of what had happened to them in the past. Max howled with laughter as Elias recounted the story of their 2017 visit. Four litres in to their day, the three of them decided to move to another tent. On exiting, the immediate area outside was very busy and Christoph lost sight of his two friends. Trying to locate them, he took a few steps backwards and stepped into a huge pile of horse droppings, recently deposited by one of the Dray horses! I join in the laughter and look over to Christoph, who bears a look of embarrassment but guffaws along too. We chat away some more as we drink our Augustiners and exchange more stories of drunken faux-pas.


Before long, it was time for me to move on, and to get some fresh air. Two litres may not sound a lot, but it is nearly 4 pints, and the beers are around 6% ABV. I exited the Fischer-Vroni tent – being careful to keep my eye out for the Dray horses – and decide to check out what else the festival offers. The first thought to many is of this being solely a beer festival. Whilst that is the overwhelming focus of it, there is so much more on offer. The food options are varied, and certainly not limited to the roast chicken and fish-on-a-stick already mentioned, but also giant pretzels accompanied by a spicy, beer-laden cheese dip called Obatzda; dumplings; soups; roast ox; schnitzels; candied nuts; and sausages – lots and lots of sausages!


 It goes without saying that these should be experienced BEFORE partaking of the beer!

There are also several fairground rides, such as the famous Ferris Wheel rotating at a fair clip and cresting a summit of 50m – high enough to look over the whole Wiesn and Munich’s landmarks beyond; The Five Loops – the largest transportable rollercoaster in the world; SkyFall – a ride which takes you straight up 80 metres into the sky, before a sudden drop brings you plummeting back down to earth; and many other fairground staples – a haunted house, a swing carousel, and bumper cars, to mention a few. It goes without saying that these should be experienced BEFORE partaking of the beer!


I choose not to go on any of the rides. The queues were building up and I had already started on the beer. There are a few other things to take in – a folk band plays outside one of the Festival’s smaller tents; those dangerous Dray horses stand majestically outside a “big six” tent, with crowds cooing around them; and a plethora of shopping stands and carnival games. However, I really am here for the beer, so my third tent beckons. I look around at which tents I am close to, and decide that Schottenhammel will be my next visit.

 

Scottenhammel serves beer brewed by Spaten Bräu, which was established in 1397 under the name “Weiser Prew” and changed hands many times over the years, before being purchased by the Spatt family in 1622 and assuming the name “Spaten” which has stuck ever since. They were the first brewery to introduce a wheat beer at Oktoberfest, with their Spaten Brewery Premiere, in 1964. However, the beer style being sold today is Märzen – the typical beer of Oktoberfest. Interestingly, the very first Märzen served at the Wiesn was in the Schottenhamel tent, in 1872 when stocks of the usual weaker brew were low. Guests flocked to the tent to try this stronger beer and a tradition was established.

 

I must say that they are demonstrating great maturity and I recall my 16 year old days and the occasions that I was able to lay my hands on booze. Restraint was certainly not in my vocabulary!

Once more, I don’t encounter any issues with procuring a seat, and I am introduced to three more new friends. This time it’s Andrés, his son Luis, and Luis’ friend Julia. Andy, as he prefers to be called, is a born-and-raised Bavarian of Mexican descent and owns a Mexican restaurant on the outskirts of the city. Luis and Julia are only 16 years old, but are each tucking into the contents of their maßkrug like veterans. I voice my surprise that, at 16 years old, it is legal for them to drink beer. Andy tells me that in Germany, from the age of 14 years old, you are allowed to drink beer or wine in a public licensed premises if you are accompanied by a “custodial person”. From the age of 16, you are allowed to drink beer or wine unaccompanied, but you have to wait until you are 18 to drink spirits.


Luis and Julia tell me that this is their second year visiting Oktoberfest and that this lenient drinking age helps to teach youngsters about the importance of responsible drinking. They understand their limits and drink just enough to enjoy themselves. I must say that they are demonstrating great maturity and I recall my 16 year old days and the occasions that I was able to lay my hands on booze. Restraint was certainly not in my vocabulary!

 

We continue to talk, but also listen to the tent’s resident band who are playing a few songs that I haven’t heard in the previous tents. However, Ein Prosit still makes a regular appearance, being the traditional musical chant of the Wiesn and helping to convince punters to down their drinks and order another. I’m enjoying my time with Andy and his young charges. The two teenagers are delightful company – talkative, polite, with excellent English, and not at all sullen. Andy enjoys spending as much time with Luis as he can, as he lost his wife several years prior and wants to ensure that Luis experiences as many happy days as possible. Given Andy’s business is an extremely busy and pressurised environment, its days like this that allow him to let off steam and spend quality time with his son. Andy recognises that I feel that I am intruding on this time and tells me that part of the experiences he wants for his only child is to socialise with others, and practicing his English is no bad thing either.

 

We are soon joined by four of Luis and Julia’s school-friends – Mia, Sabine, Anja, and Joachim. I have drained my third litre of the day extremely easily, and Andy buys me another as he orders eight beers for the table. My second litre of Spaten arrives, skilfully delivered by our dirndl-adorned hostess who carries all eight of the giant maßkrug with nonchalant ease. Given that I need both hands to lift this to my lips, I am in awe of the way the she has achieved this. Another chorus of Ein Prosit strikes up and we all comply with the edict to “G’Suffa” with our newly full glasses.


As the band plays on and the conversation continues, people all around us start to stand up on the benches to dance and sing along. Becoming more uninhibited by the copious amount of beer that I’ve consumed, I join them. It isn’t long before the reality of being over 50 dawns on me, evidenced by the fact that it takes me quite an effort to climb back down again. Perhaps it’s not only my age, but also the number of beers I’ve had. It must be time to leave the Festival.

 

I say my goodbyes to Andy and the teenaged crew. Andy gives me his business card and tells me to come and visit him at his restaurant so that I can experience the best Guacamole in Germany! I leave the tent and start to think about which way to walk back towards my hotel, but the bright lights of the Lowenbräu tent draw me in. Maybe just a nightcap.


Attendees every year, they frame it as research, given that they are responsible for production of one of beer’s key ingredients – malted barley. 

Lowenbräu, German for “Lion’s Brew”, claims to have been founded in 1383, although tax records don’t support that date and suggest that 1524 is more likely. In 1997, Lowenbräu merged with fellow Munich brewery, Spaten Bräu, once it’s main competitor, in a controversial deal. It would only be a further six years until more controversy arose when Interbrew, later to itself merge with Anheuser-Busch to become AB-Inbev, acquired the group.


I enter the tent, secure another place with ease, and am escorted to the table. Yet again it is time for me to introduce myself to another group of Wiesn revellers that I have been foisted upon, although they welcome me with open arms – literally! Hugs all around from four gents from Biberach, around 230 miles west of Munich. Their names are Jos, Max, Friedrich, and Tørsten, and they work for a Malt factory. Attendees every year, they frame it as research, given that they are responsible for production of one of beer’s key ingredients – malted barley.

 

The process involves taking raw barley grains, steeping them in water, before the water is drained to expose the grain to air, where it passes through several stages of humidification and oxygenation to activate the embryo. After the steeping process, the grain is soaked in water once more, but left in the water to allow the grains to swell and germinate. This activates the grain enzymes that will convert the starches present in the grain into fermentable sugars during the brewing process. But before brewers get their hands on the malted barley, the grain goes into the kiln and is heated. This is a very important part of the procedure – as well as influencing the barley’s colour and flavour, it stops the seed from growing into a plant. Now dried out, and with the heat breaking down the starches into simple sugars, brewers will combine the malt with yeast during fermentation. It’s that marriage of these two ingredients that produces alcohol.

 

The four Maltsters enjoy explaining their job, and are quite clearly proud of the role that they play in the beer-making process. I am a willing listener, particularly as it allows me to enjoy my maβ of Lowenbräu, but it’s not too long before nature calls. I excuse myself and head off to the toilets. I’m not too steady on my feet, and my mind is a bit foggy too, and this becomes clear when I look to return to my table and all I see is an ocean of identical celebrators. I turn this way, and that, and stride along the outside of the busy seating area, straining my eyes to identify my current gang. I don’t see them at all, and am in a panic – my phone didn’t make the journey to the toilet with me and is sitting on the table somewhere in the midst of that hive of activity. Once more back and forth, still without any success. However, out of the corner of my eye I see waving hands, and my ears start to detect voices yelling my name. My four brothers of the grain are trying to attract my attention to their location.

 

Naturally relieved, I rejoin the table, finish my beer, and announce to my good pals that I think I have had enough and it’s about time for me to go back to my hotel. I re-take to my wobbly feet and totter out of the tent, and out of the Wiesn. I’m lucky to find a waiting taxi which deposits me in front of my hotel. It’s been a long, but massively enjoyable day. I’ve met four groups of supremely interesting people, each of whom welcomed me to join their parties without hesitation and involved me in their conversations. I’ve learned a great deal about many things, made temporary friends along the way, and consumed a sizeable amount of Munich’s finest Oktoberfest libations. Would I go back and do it all again? Without hesitation.


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