We came down for breakfast at Hotel Cocoon after our first full Oktoberfest day. The breakfast spread didn't change much from one day to the next, but there was plenty to choose from—cereals, eggs, meats and sausages, including what may have been a white sausage. I liked what I'd eaten the day before, so I had more or less the same thing again. Sometimes you find a breakfast that works and don't need to improve on it.
We'd rented our lederhosen and dirndls for two days, but after spending one long day wearing them, we decided to return them early. Mine fit, technically, but leather doesn't have much give when you sit down, and European sizing hadn't done me any favors. The others were ready for a more comfortable day too. Bavarian Outfitters didn't refund the unused time, and that was fine. We'd gotten what we wanted from the experience. We changed into jeans and T-shirts and immediately felt more comfortable—though, once again, at Oktoberfest that meant being the ones who stood out.
Before heading back to the festival, we spent time around Marienplatz. I wanted to see the Rathaus-Glockenspiel, the animated clock in the tower of Munich's New Town Hall. We made sure we were there for a performance, and I recorded it on video. Compared with the astronomical clock in Prague, this performance felt longer, with several little moments you could miss if you weren't paying attention. It was lovely, and it got me thinking about why we don't seem to have many permanent public mechanical clock performances of that scale in the United States.
We also stopped for a pastry, a little breakfast or brunch supplement, before heading toward the grounds. That may explain why we approached Oktoberfest from a different direction this time.
On Wednesday we'd entered through what seemed to be a east side or south eastern entrance without much of a line. Thursday we approached from the north and there was a definite queue. Inside, it wasn't merely my imagination: the place felt considerably more crowded than the day before. I even wondered whether Thursday was some sort of local holiday. I checked and no, no holiday or event, this was just a normal Thursday.
We wanted to visit the tents we'd missed on Day One, so we continued our informal tour of the fairgrounds. It was warmer, and we made a point of drinking water as well as anything alcoholic. That led to a small European practice I wish we'd adopt more widely at home.
When you bought certain bottles or reusable containers, you paid a deposit and received a token or ticket. Bring the empty container back to the appropriate vendor with the token, and you'd get the deposit back. We saw this with drinks and sometimes food containers. It's called Pfand, and it reminded me of returning glass bottles for a deposit in the United States years ago. It gives people a reason to return containers rather than throw them away. So do not be surprised if you get a token or ticket with your order, and ask if it needs to be returned there, or if other booths will accept them.
I also noticed the plastic bottle caps that stay attached to the bottle on a little hinge. You twist the cap off, fold it aside, take your drink and screw it back on without ever separating it. We'd seen these elsewhere in Europe, probably France as well. They seemed a sensible way to keep caps from becoming litter, even if the first time you encounter one you wonder why the top won't come off like you're used to.
We'd walked past several shows on the first day, so this time we decided to go inside one. I didn't understand a word of the German dialogue, but that didn't keep it from being entertaining. It was gloriously hokey: singing, dancing, jokes that may or may not have been intended as jokes, and a magician who brought an audience member onstage for a mock execution with a guillotine. The volunteer was, of course, restored afterward. Even without a translation, you could follow the performance from the actions and the crowd's reactions.
Teresa wanted to ride the bumper cars, and we found a busy attraction where a token activated your car. It seemed as if nearly every car was on the floor at once. The result was crowded, chaotic and an absolute blast. I'd do that again.
We kept sampling food. I found a vendor selling chimney cake, something I hadn't had in its proper form since Budapest, and made sure to get one.
For anyone unfamiliar with chimney cake, it's a traditional Hungarian pastry called kürtőskalács. Imagine something similar to yeast doughnut dough, rolled thin, cut into long strips, and wrapped around a tapered wooden roller. The dough is coated with sugar and slowly rotated over hot coals or another heat source, almost like a rotisserie, until it's golden brown and the sugar begins to caramelize. I've tried a few versions over the years, and I still think the ones cooked over charcoal are the best. While the pastry is hot and the caramelized sugar is still sticky, it can be rolled in all kinds of toppings, from cinnamon sugar and coconut to chocolate or nuts. Then comes my favorite part: the vendor stands the roller on its narrow end, gives it a few taps, and the whole pastry slides right off. It's served warm, often in a cone-shaped paper bag, and you simply pull off pieces of the sweet, slightly crispy dough as you eat. It's difficult to compare it to anything else, and that's part of what makes it so good.
Mike and I also rode one of the towering swing rides. Mike used to jump out of airplanes, and heights don't particularly bother me as long as I'm strapped in. Up we went, about 60 meters by my phone's reckoning, close to 200 feet or roughly 20 stories, spinning high over the fairgrounds with beautiful views of Munich that changed almost too quickly to take in.
We also returned to our reserved tent because we still had unused credit from the previous evening, and we used it for lunch and drinks. There wasn't any indoor seating available, so we settled into the outdoor beer garden instead. One thing worth knowing is that smoking is permitted in these outdoor areas, and even when you find a quieter table, cigarette smoke can occasionally drift your way. It wasn't our favorite part of the experience, but it's something to be aware of if you're sensitive to smoke. We didn't stay all day; there was more of Munich to see.
We also saw plenty of social media posts about celebrities enjoying Oktoberfest around the same time we were there. Arnold Schwarzenegger had visited the Marstall tent on September 22, even taking a turn conducting the band, while Heidi Klum had made a surprise appearance at the Bräurosl tent a couple of days earlier. We didn't see either of them ourselves, but it was fun knowing that some familiar faces were enjoying the same festival during our visit. Of course, with hundreds of thousands of people wandering the grounds each day, we could have walked right past someone famous and never known it.
Then again, plenty of people walked right past me without recognizing me either. Go figure.
Later, back in central Munich, we wandered into a LEGO store. I've always liked building things. I still have LEGO bricks from childhood packed away in the attic—not in their original boxes, because I was a kid who actually played with them. I built all kinds of things, usually making up my own designs with whatever pieces I had available. As LEGO sets became more specialized, with pieces seemingly designed for only one particular purpose, I found myself a little less interested. I suppose part of the fun had always been figuring out what I could build with what I had. But I still enjoy looking.
There on a shelf was a model of the bridge of the original Starship Enterprise, complete with other familiar Star Trek areas and set pieces. It was exactly the sort of thing I would have wanted. Star Trek and Stargate are two of my favorite franchises, and I already own an unbuilt, licensed Stargate SG-1 brick set from another company. I've opened the box, but the pieces are still sealed in their bags. I've thought more than once about spreading them across the dining room table and building the thing. I just haven't gotten around to it.
Before this trip, I'd spent weeks going through books, collectibles, and old role-playing materials, trying to decide what to keep and what might be sold. Teresa and I had adopted a little mantra: we're decluttering. So I looked at the Enterprise bridge, looked at her, and smiled. She gave me the kind of slight nod that meant she wouldn't object if I really wanted it.
“We're decluttering, aren't we?” I asked.
“Yes, we are,” she said, smiling.
And that was that. It wasn't a question of whether we could afford it. It was a question of whether we needed another box in a house that already has plenty. As far as I'm concerned, that Enterprise bridge is still sitting on a shelf somewhere in Munich. I don't regret leaving it there. Well, maybe a little. Especially since it comes in my size.
We also found time for a little gelato. My friends and Teresa already know I'm a gelato snob. I want it smooth, creamy and rich, almost soft-serve in texture. I realize that frozen gelato is still gelato; I just have opinions. Strong ones, apparently.
And that was our second day: more crowds, more tents, a wonderfully strange sideshow, bumper cars, chimney cake, a beautiful clock performance, and a collectible that did not make it into our luggage. The next day, we'd be leaving the beer tents behind for castles and palaces.
