Guten Tag, or “Good Day” in German. No worries, I am not having an identity crisis (still very aware that reside in the UK). Nor have I met a German boy in London who has caught my fancy (sad, but true). I have literally just returned to my dorm after a fun-filled weekend in Munich, Germany. For leisure? I guess you could call it that? I attended the world renowned festival known as Oktoberfest.
In case you have been living under a rock, or are just really into American life and reject all things European (more power to you, God bless America), Oktoberfest is a cultural event that happens once a year in Munich. Basically for three weekends (the middle of September to the first of October) people from all over the world flock to Munich to drink endless liters of beer, eat completely oversized pretzels, nom on German sausages, and belt German drinking songs. In a word, it is epic.
Most of the members of my Tri Delta pledge class had planned to come to the second weekend of Oktoberfest where we would all reunite, eat, drink, and be merry. It was absolutely fabulous to see them all again, even though I had seen some of the not three weeks ago. However, getting to them and Munich did not happen without its struggles. This week’s post tells the story of Kelly Neubeiser’s first experience with traveling alone in Europe to a country with a huge language barrier. Brace yourself folks, for this is a story to remember. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll roll your eyes at how much I’m dramatizing this. So before I lose you as a reader, let me begin…
Friday morning I had planned to meet my two friends at the tube station at 5:40 AM where we would catch the very first tube at 5:56 AM and take it to Heathrow Airport. Our flights were at 8:30 and it takes about 45 minutes to get to the airport via tube. We also did not really know what to expect with flying out of Heathrow internationally and did not want to be pressed for time. I swear to you I set my alarm and I am usually very good about waking up, particularly if it involves traveling. However, I slept right through my alarm and was instead awoken by a frantic phone call from my friend asking where I was. It was 5:41 AM and she was at the station with our other friend. I screamed, jumped out of bed, threw my clothes on without shower, grabbed my toothbrush and bag, which I had packed the night before (thank God) and literally sprinted to the station (a normal ten minute walk from our dorm). I made it on the tube with seconds to spare, unshowered with plans to do my make up and get my life together on the ride.
Crisis one was semi-averted. Everything ran smoothly until the end of our first flight. My friend Kate and I landed in Zurich knowing we had a very tight connection. We had a half hour between the landing time of our first flight and departure time of our second flight. We had heard the Zurich airport was small, so we were not as worried, feeling like we would maybe need to jog to the gate. No big deal. People jog every day. False. We land and the airplane is not connected to a terminal. We have to board a tram that takes us to the airport, go through customs, and go through security again. We had about five minutes to make it to our gate. Friends, there was no jogging involved. I was running as if my life depended on it, jumping past people on the moving side walk and screaming about how I was going to miss my flight.
I won’t keep you in suspense any longer. We made the flight, all was well. We landed in Germany and I, being the type A person that I am, removed the directions that I had printed from the internet about how to ride the Munich underground to my destination. This document told me what ticket to buy, what train to board, etc. I was not messing around with this. I arrived in Munich City Center and my friend, Quinn, promptly tackled me with a running hug. The reunion had begun and I had successfully completed one half of my traveling adventure.
Quinn and I wondered the city for the afternoon, taking in the atmosphere and letting the realization set in that after a year of planning our trip to Oktoberfest, we had finally made it and it was, at last, happening. The city center was buzzing with people, most dressed in the traditional Oktoberfest outfit known as lederhosen (picture oversized Germans in leprechaun clothing—no joke). The architecture was much different than that of London. Germany is full of colorful buildings that slightly resemble something you might see as a Gingerbread house or in a Brother Grimm fairytale. It all looked very Swiss to me. The city center building itself is the exception. While beautiful, that particular building was very gothic and domineering.
We met the rest of our pledge class for a traditional German dinner. The menu did not have much variety, as most everything was basically a red meat and potato dish. I may sound like I was discouraged by this, but to the contrary, I was thrilled. I had never been to Germany but so far this visit was satisfying all of my German preconceived stereotypes. Quinn and I went home early to our single hotel room, a room that we were going to try to fit five people into. Hey, we are five American college students on a budget—bending the truth about how many people to a room is sometimes acceptable under special conditions (Oktoberfest is definitely one them).
The actual festival of Oktoberfest is like a glorified state fair. There are rides with German fair food and interesting people everywhere you look. The only difference is that at ever few feet there is an enormous tent with some German name (that I obviously cannot translate) that houses hundreds of people and thousands of liters of beer. We had been told to arrive at the tents hours before they opened in order to get a table inside the best tents. So, us being dedicated to the experience, we arrived at the tents at 7:30 AM, two and half hours before they were to open. Shivering and huddling together, we talked about the vast amounts of German beer we were about to consume and worked out a buddy system so that no one would ever get lost.
The tents opened and hundreds of Italians, Americans, Germans, Spaniards, and Brits rushed into the tents, all scrambling for a table and yelling for beer. It honestly was one of the most absurd moments of my life. I found myself laughing hysterically at the chaotic sight of it all. Thirty minutes later, my friends and I made a toast and took a sip of our first German beer. It had begun.
The day passed too fast. To my immense delight and excitement, I kept finding people from my university. I couldn’t believe so many of us had come together for this one event. I bought a German hat and wore it all day. I mean, it was not any lederhosen but it was still impressive. I even struggled to learn the words of the German drinking songs that the live band played every thirty minutes. You could feel it in the tents; it was hundreds of people all brought together in happiness. Granted, it was drunken happiness, but still happiness.
However, all good things must come to an end. After a farewell dinner on Saturday night, I got up early Sunday morning and made my way back to the Munich airport. Once there, I struggled a bit with where to check-in. I was determined for this trip and its traveling to go hassle free, so I searched around, trying to decipher German. If you’ve ever tried to do so, you know how impossible that is. There are no English cognates in the German language, and every syllable sounds very harsh. It honestly is frightening to hear German people speak directly to me. However, I soon found my way and settled at my gate, awaiting my flight back to my beloved UK.
As my final flight approached London, a strange sense of calmness fell over me. It felt like I was coming back to what was familiar, back to my home. It was then that I realized that I had missed London. I had missed not struggling to understand a language, I had missed my routine, and I had missed the feeling I wake up with every day in London. I am so happy that I went to Germany and got to experience the culture and see my friends, but I am also happy because it helped me realize how much I am getting out of my abroad experience. I am truly treating London like a second home and I really do not doubt that I am making the most of my time here. I cannot wait to wake up tomorrow morning, go to class, get my usual cup of tea at my usual café and begin a new week in my home.