Willkommen Zum Oktoberfest

OktoberfestI got from Paris to Munich in an hour and twenty minutes. An hour and twenty minutes! That’s how long it takes to get to Queens. They don’t even check your passport until you’re about to board the plane. The boarding is President-style; you climb up the stairs, skip the smile-and-wave to the press, and duck in. Then, one cheese sandwich, glass of wine, and bag of salty peanuts later and you’re landing in Germany. God I love Western Europe. 

Munich is currently celebrating its 198th annual Oktoberfest. (That’s right, Oktoberfest starts in September). I have to admit that I never imagined going to Oktoberfest- I don’t really like beer or things resembling frat parties (NYU is a good place for me to be). But the opportunity sort of fell into my lap, and I’m not one to turn down a trip to a new place. 

My roommate, Emma, has a friend from high school who lives in Munich. Marius came and stayed with us in Paris a few weeks ago, and to return the favor, he invited us to stay by him in Munich for the first weekend of Oktoberfest. Score? Yes.

Here’s my theory about traveling: when we travel to a new place, we go through three main phases of expectation. 

First, we have conscious expectations about our destination. We form images and preconceived notions about our place of travel before we even make it there. We recognize and identify these expectations, reconciling the imagination with reality. I imagined, correctly, that Oktoberfest would be full of Germans enjoying themselves, eating pretzels, and drinking endless mugs of beer.

Second, we learn new and unexpected things. Germans love to share their food and drink. Expect to be offered a taste of your neighbor’s Weisswurst, even if you’ve only just met. Brezen, pretzels, are fair game for everyone- so break off a piece, it goes really well with your beer. When you order Hendl, roasted chicken, don’t be alarmed when others hover around you, waiting for their taste. 

Third, when we travel we realize that we had preconceived notions of which we were not consciously aware. We become aware of these unconscious expectations only when what we find in our place of travel runs contrary to them. Without even realizing it, I projected my American college girl standards of what a party looks like onto my expectations of Oktoberfest. I pictured the festival as some kind of mega-college-party worthy of the set of American Pie. I only realized how subjective my assumptions were when I saw how different Oktoberfest is from what I imagined.

For one thing, the tent we were in was really pretty. It was decorated in warm yellows and reds with greenery and lights. It felt more like Christmas than college party. The men wear lederhosen and the women wear dirndls. On the elevated platform in the center, a band, complete with a full brass instrument ensemble, vacillates between playing traditional Bavarian music and American rockabilly/60s pop (think: Johnny Be Good, It’s in His Kiss). The mayor parades through the tent and the crowd cheers. The whole affair has a charming, folkloric feel to it.

On Sunday, we skipped out on another day at Oktoberfest and went sightseeing in Munich. Sunday night was our flight back. An hour and twenty minutes, and one pretzel-cheese sandwich later we were back in Paris.

At school this week, a bunch of kids who are planning on going to Oktoberfest next weekend wanted to hear how hard I expected them to party when they got there. I smiled and told them to leave their beer pong balls at home. “But, if you have a spare set of lederhosen, you should definitely bring those.”