I'm slowly learning German. Living and breathing German air is no Rosetta Stone. One day, a girl bumped into me on the sidewalk and I confidently replied, "danke", which means Thank You. HA!This past weekend, three friends and I rented a car to drive to Munich for Oktober Fest. We ended up cruising five hours in an A4 Audi with a British-English inflected navigator. Our hostel was 40 minutes outside of Munich in a small town called Eitting. All I can say is, "das ist sehr Deutsch." This itty-bitty town reminded me of one of those small, southern towns that black people shouldn't walk through. We shared the lane with tractors and public transportation buses. I couldn't believe it. Public transportation in Germany is all encompassing. It services almost every nook of the country. There's no turnstiles or NYPD searching your bags here. They have an integrity system. A single ride ticket is 2,10 and valid up to two-hours to take you anywhere you need to go on any mode of public transportation. The EVG randomly come through the train to check for tickets. If caught, you must pay a 40 euro fine, but it's not punishable for up to 20 years in prison. I've only been checked for a ticket ONE time since I've been here. European social structures are so much better, stronger and awesome here. Did I mention public drinking is not a crime?
Oktober Fest was an international experience. There were mobs of tourists from every part of the world who were peeing/vomiting, chugging, chanting, violating social norms, sexing, grabbing, kissing, and children eating their chocolate covered bananas. While pushing and shoving through a multitude of people on Saturday afternoon for three hours to get into a beer house (Paulaner), we encountered an inebriated Hungarian who kept lingering toward our faces, two Italian boys with braces, old men from Ireland, Germans in lederhosens, the infamous Turks, and two (seemingly) normal guys from London who we frequently tried to speak to in broken German for some reason. "Stop talking to me in German, I speak fucking English," one of the guys said with a British charm. I really really really really have to visit London now.
There's an old tradition (new to me) of wearing a cookie cake around your neck and swapping that for drunken, sloppy kisses. I thought about buying a cookie cake for actual consumption, but the icing and cookie was hard as a rock. I didn't adopt any ways...except for laggardly guzzling a liter of beer that I never finished. I acted like a pro and did one of those testosterone-aggressive toasts where you clank glasses with others so hard the beer spills over the top and you act like you absolutely don't give a shit. Thank gawd, I recycled the napkins that I cleaned my pretzel crumbs up with from earlier. The liters of liquid gold were 8,50 and a half glass was all my taste buds allowed me to take in. It tasted like a glass of lipids, and then a series of people with beer bellies who aren't pregnant suddenly flashed through my brain.
After hours of drinking (it took me hours to finish half), our British friends tagged along as we rode carnival rides under the full-moon sky. I regret I didn't get to visit Munich for it's real treasures (not just Oktober Fest), but next time I'm bringing a pint of vodka to snuggle in my purse. We nearly missed our train back to Eitting that night. Running through rail stations has become a familiar past time.
There's something about living close to the edge (with a plan), that enthuses me.
By default, I have a growing interest in electronic music. I can't wait to go to a rave.
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