Twice a year Dave’s whole office goes to fest, either Frühlingsfest (in the Spring) or Volksfest (in the Fall).  Both are pretty much exactly the same.   Both are held on the fairgrounds at Cannstatter Wasen. They have rides, games, foods, like any fair, but unlike any fair in the states they have beer tents.

Literally, big, huge, semi-permanent tents.  And these tents get stuffed with tables, benches, people, beer and chicken (The Golden Child) They are hot, smoky (not only can you smoke inside, a cigar girl comes by every so often peddling her wares), loud and a little bit stinky.  This is Oktoberfest. Next to the original one in München Stuttgart is the biggest Volksfest (or Oktoberfest) in Germany.  In fact, this year they added a ninth beer tent.

Most everyone and not just the tourists, many locals go multiple times during the 2-week run, wears the semi-traditional dirndl (dress with apron) or lederhose (literally leather pants).  Dressing up is a huge part of the fun and many women have a different dirndl for every fest, or at least a different one for Frühlingsfest and Volksfest .

The second you walk in, and find your table, friends push a Maß of beer into your hands (a big, huge, heavy, 1-liter mug).  I learned, after my first fest, to always drink Radlers (beer mixed with lemon soda).  My limit is definitely less than 3 Maß minimum at fest.  Two seconds after getting Radler #1, I’m up, standing on a bench, swinging my big Maß and singing along with the mostly American songs.  Sweet Carolina, by Neil Diamond, is the #1 favorite song closely followed by the Beach Boys, La Bamba and anything well before this century.  By now we even know the words to most of the German popular songs.

Fest is fun.  Or rather, it was fun.  As Dave pulled the strings of corset-like dirndl tight on Thursday night I sighed and complained: “Do we really have to go to Fest again?”

I complained. About Fest. Oktoberfest. IN GERMANY!  Something is wrong with me.

fest

Charlsie, me (gosh I’m short) & Amber