Bart's European Tour: Oktoberfest

Gutentag,

Erstens mich, wie ScheiÃe mich sagen gegenÃ¼berstellte, lassen erhielt und wieviele Paare der fantastischen breats ich sah!

Well Oktoberfest, what can I say. I shit you not, it was the most fun I have ever had in my life. I'm not kidding and I'm not exaggerating, it was THE MOST FUN I HAVE EVER HAD - and my grandma used to take me to the David Jones food court and let me choose any lollies I wanted when I was younger - 23 - so I know fun!

Also, don't think you know the Germans. They are one of the friendliest groups of people I've met. Every Kraut we spoke to, liased with, cuddled, bumped, pushed or poked were full of smiles, laughter and hospitality. If I had a whole bunch of foreigners invading my country (opps, shouldn't say that), coming in to my country to smash beers, dance on tables and act like general fools, I'd be annoyed with them. But these crazy little sauerkraut scoffers do nothing but laugh, in fact, the love nothing better than joining in! The Germans are as friendly as the Poles, but have the confidence to be loud about it.

The second thing that amazed me, which also did in Poland, was the sheer hatred for Italians that is shared by all on the continent. I thought people didn't like the Brits or Aussies. Oh no, only the Spanish don't like the Brits and only the Brits don't like the Aussie, but that is nothing compared to the sheer hatred towards the Italians. And you can understand why when you see them. I have never seen a group of guys who could not handle their alcohol, grope as many barmaids, shout as lound as possible, but yet leave no tip, in my life. Now I donÂt want to be generalistic here, but when its 90 per cent of the groups you see - and every German tells you the same - it stacks up.

Enough of that, here we go.

After a large Thursday night I nearly missed my flight to Munich. Being greeted at the train station by Glasso he let me know he forgot his sleeping bag so we would have to snuggle - interesting weekend.

A few bottles of Russia's finest for the plane journey and we were off. Two hours later we were touching down in Munich. Hung over getting off the plane, just look how excited I was to be in Munich!
Before leaving London, I thought I'll be fine, I can sleep on the plane. Not happening.
It's okay I'll sleep when we get to the camp site and take the first night a little easy. Not happening. I knew the weekend was going to be big when Pete and Junior greeted us at the camp site at 4pm looking they this:

One thing I love about London is its proximity to Europe. For example, please relive my conversation with my house mates last week:

Bart: I'm in Poland tomorrow and Germany next week, what are you plans?
Holly: Well Gill is in Paris this week and I'll be there shortly, where's John?
Bart: I think he's Dublin.
Holly: No that was last week, he's in Essex.
Bart: Wait, Gill's in Paris, I thought she was in Berlin.
Holly: No, next week when you're in Munich.

Anyway, arriving in Munich and getting on a train one thing strikes you, if the sign says the trains leaves at 14.55, it will leave at 14.55 on the second. Ah the German efficeny.

Arriving at the camp site, I won't bore you with the details, but here's the summary for Friday night:

Two bottles of vodka, one of Bacardi and some dark rum = 2 hours to put a tent up. And how happy where we when we finished.

Incidents with arse cheeks, marshmallows and a bonfire.
An American in a Bavarin dress and Glasso's right nut.

Saturday:
Arriving at the beer halls at 9am, we couldn't believe the size of the lines. These suckers were metres deep to get into the beers halls. When each beer hall takes about 10,000 and there are 15 of them, you can imagine how many people are drinking at 9am.

Although you start early, and that first beer is sheer torture, you do get through and continue, and they do get easier as the day goes on. Also, they must put something in there, as the more you drink, the less drunk you actually feel, and start to get a little hyper active.

Going...

Gone!

After finding a seat outside we sat there all day, doing nothing but drinking, laughing, eating, laughing, singing and doing a little more laughing. Great day.

Sunday:
After waking up feeling great, no hang over, but a little tired, we decided to go to the Lowenbrau tent. Arriving at 8.30am we were ready in the front of the line. That's when our luck toowaitressfor the GREATEST! A waiteress, soon to become our best friend, Suzzana, came out and asked us where are you from. As soon as we said we weren't Italians she took us in via a back entrance and asked us to spread ourselves around to take up the table space in her area, and only to move when she brought people she wanted to sit over to us. So there we were, all by ourselves in the beer hall with only the staff looking at us as if we were criminals invading their space.
http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoID=1225720898

We loved Suzanna

She brought us beer: She taught us to eat German sausages properly (you cut them in half, suck the meat out and throw away the skin): She even drank the beers too:She is actually a doctor during the year in Berlin and comes to Oktoberfest to get easy tips, drink a lot, smoke a lot and then head back to her conservative life each year where she does none of that. We loved Suzanna:
The Lowenbrau tent is known as the German tent, as the locals go there rather than any other tent. That's where I became a bigamist.

Now that I have a Russian bride (see previous blog entry) I really shouldn't be marrying anyone, but after meeting a lovely German named Cassandra, she had a special something. After chatting for a little while I had found out... her father owns a LOWENBRAU PUB just out of Munich.

I proposed then and there. She accepted. I'm planning the divorce when my Visa comes through and I get the pub in the split.

Another night of singing, dancing and drinking occurred with typical Bavarian feasting (roast chickens, pork legs, schnitzels, sauerkraut and beer). I love the Germans.
http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoID=1225700553
There's the good food:

Huhn schnitzel Rolle (Chicken schnitzel roll)

The great food:

SchweinefleischknÃchel (Pork knuckle)

And food, which come to think of it, really shouldn't be eaten:

Rettiche tauchten in Bier ein und rollten im Salz (Radishes dipped in beer and rolled in salt)

After all this food, beer, trumpets, drums, singing and general frivolity, you are so excited and pumped up, you don't actually feel drunk. Although if you are not drunk, I'm not sure what excuse you have for dancing on the table thinking you know the words to some traditional German yodel - or wearing a chook on your head.

Also, a point to note. If some old lady is trying pinch your arse when you are dancing on the table, don't get down and give her a hug, it only encourages her!

Monday:
Monday was a day of sight seeing for a few of us, so I won't bore you with the details, accept to say we hired some bikes and decided to ride around Munich. I actually felt like one of the SS officers you see in movies riding along their bikes in the Bavarian countryside.

Now let's play a game, can you spot the difference?

Did you guess it? That's right, I'm in a city street in the first one, not the park like the other two.

After riding around looking at the sites, the people I were with were starting to get a little worried about my insistmemorabiliang all the Nazi sites and memorabilier, such as: