North Shore Amour Travels: Oktoberfest

Here are some stories from Oktoberfest in Munich.

At Oktoberfest, euros seem to slip through my fingers like water. Steins of beer; big, bready pretzels; half a hendel, golden and hot; pfannkuchensuppe (pancake soup) with salty broth; crunchy, cinnamon-sugar coated haselnuss. And games – lots of games.

Even dangerous games. This gun is not tethered to anything.

At Oktoberfest credit cards are useful at a few stands, but mostly, cash is king. There are only a few money machines at the entrances to the festival, so in advance of a long day at Theresienwiese we took out money at an ATM near the apartment we rented in the Obergiesing neighborhood. We took out a LOT, reasoning that we could make it last for multiple days.

And a long day it was. The steins at Oktoberfest are 1 liter goliaths, leaden glass, and with David-like fortitude I slayed one at each tent we visited. (There is a certain determination that I think you find in graduates of Big 10 universities, like me, to ensure that no. drop. of. beer. be. wasted.  A determination I apparently have not yet grown out of.) Spaten. Paulaner. Löwenbräu. These are the names of my demise.

Stopping for a caffeine break.  

The day started out smoothly, sitting outside in the sun on wooden benches, enjoying opportunities to people-watch and talking on and off with the people around us. Or, rather, trying to talk. My German is virtually nicht vorhanden (non-existent), so sometimes my "talking" is more like a game of charades, trying to act out what I want to say. 

The Scotland secession vote was taking place while I was there, and somehow I determined this was a good topic to discuss/charade with our neighbors. In involved me doing lots of mimed thinking and voting. Very charming. It paid off, though: once I got the idea across, it led to a really interesting discussion about how Bavaria occasionally wants to secede from the rest of Germany because their culture is so different.

One guy, my favorite guy, didn't understand what I wanted to talk about and just kept giving me a thumbs up and saying loudly, "GERMANY IST GOOD, JA?" To which I tried to reply an equally hearty, "JA."

We ate and drank and played games and talked and people watched, and as day shifted to night, we moved indoors to the warm tents, awash in light, loud with the sounds of the Oktoberfest bands (-- so much John Denver. They love John Denver.) Imagine six thousand Germans standing on benches, arms around shoulders, swaying and singshouting, "COUNTRY ROOAAADS, TAKE ME HOME, TO THE PLAAACE, I BELONG!" It's quite something.

We danced, we sang Ein Prosit about a million times, and as the night began to blur, we took a spot in the Augustiner tent with a nice family from the Munich suburbs - a middle aged father, a mother, and their teenage daughter. The father shouted over the music to tell us that the daughter's boyfriend was on his way and would soon be joining us at our table. 

He shouted in his heavy accent, "WE DO NOT LIKE HIM VERY MUCH," and his daughter rolled her eyes. As the night wore on, the boyfriend skulked in and sat with us, brooding and not saying much to anybody. We did not like him very much either.

But by then we were having a grand old time, courtesy of the beer and the people and the festivities and the wonderful jolly atmosphere. The father, then on his third liter, pulled a small bottle of lemonade from his coat and poured a bit into his beer. Winking at me, he gripped an imaginary steering wheel and said, "I have to be responsible. I'm the driver."

I think he also took this picture of me.

Somehow, we made it home to Obergiesing. I credit this to the marvelous Munich U-bahn system, efficient and simple. 

The next morning, I was standing in the bathroom braiding my hair in front of the mirror. "How much money do we have left?" I called to Geoff. "Let me check," he called back. I heard him rummaging around. "Wow. Not much. Like almost nothing." 

"How did we spend all of that money?" I asked, laughing but not-so-laughing. We planned for our trip to be expensive, but at this rate we were bleeding money. Hemorrhaging money. Where did all of the money go?

Silently berating myself for having so much to drink, I heard Geoff pick up his clothes to get dressed. "AH HA!" he exclaimed. He slid past the open bathroom door, Risky Business style, his socks glidly smoothly over the wood floors. He held up his hands to show me what he had found wadded up in his lederhosen pocket: a 50 euro note!! Yes!! A little money!

As he skated past, he snapped the note in triumph... and... it ripped cleanly in half. He stopped and stood, mouth open, eyes working from hand to hand, each holding a perfect pinky-beige half of the 50 euro note. My mouth dropped open too and we looked at each other in silence for some seconds, until Geoff made a strangled sound and I fell to the bathroom tiles, hysterical with laughter. 

(Don't worry, we found some tape and taped the note back together and took it to the grocery store to buy something small so we could get change. They accepted it.)

Probably one of the quickest ways to induce laughter in my house now is to do a Risky Business slide in front of somebody and pretend to rip something in half. It gets me every time.

Here are some more pictures from the tents:

"Take a picture of how strong I am."

And at the weinzelt (wine tent), of which there is only one:

And the Oktoberfest parade:

This guy is apparently showing off "sawing a log."

And some weird ones:

This was a small tent in which people rode silly bikes in a small pen(pedals in the wrong spot, lopsided wheels, etc.) The drunker the people were the funnier it got. 

And here's my favorite one. 

North Shore Amour Travels: Lisbon

Geoff took me to Lisbon in September for our anniversary. It was mild and warm, with expansive blue skies. There were lovely views of the sky and the water from the top of Lisbon’s steep hills. I stole peeks between white tiled buildings with orange roofs, leaning slightly over steep walls and steps to peer down at buildings and churches and life teeming below. 

The weather in Lisbon changes very quickly and the transitions are impressive. I’d look over my shoulder and see huge clouds sweeping in from the west and churning over the Atlantic, tumbling over themselves through the mouth of the Tagus river and towards the city, bearing down over me and giving me barely enough time to duck into a pasteleria to escape the sprinkles. I would stay there for a while, looking out the windows, kept company by Geoff and a tiny cup of coffee and a pastry. Just as quickly as they had come, the gray billowy clouds would rush away, and we’d emerge back onto the street, tiles on the ground and walls freshly rinsed by the rain.

Here comes a front!

My thought on Lisbon is that it is special because of its accessibility. Here is what I like about it: it presents a lovely culture and sophistication without the snootiness of Paris, it offers sights without the crowds of Rome, and it has coastal-type living, sea breezes, and fresh, unique food without the Spanish prices. It is lively, but not congested. It is evident that the city doesn't have as much physical historical depth as its close European cousins (an earthquake destroyed most of the city in the 1700s) but I thought that I could feel the history and a spirit of adventure and fun in this slippery, hilly, tiled city.

I also liked all the vinho.

We stayed in an apartment high above the city center near the Castle of São Jorge. I carried my suitcase up approximately 682349314 steps. We later learned that there was a public elevator nearby, built right into the hill. Joke’s on me.

Our apartment

The palace square was expansive, not terribly crowded, and it butted right up to the river. Just at the edge, there were steps where we could sit and watch the boats pass by.

We took the famous rattling trams a few times, but mostly we walked.

I thought that Parque Eduardo VII was lovely. I wanted to sit and read my book there all day. I was impressed that all the people respect the public space to keep it looking so beautiful.

Geoff sampled the local beers:

And got up close and personal with the art installations around the city:

And got so embarrassed when I took this picture of somebody’s undies flapping in the breeze. It’s one of my favorite pictures from the trip. 

We also went to Belem, had a custard pastry from Pastéis de Belém, and took a look around.

Jerónimos Monastery

I was especially charmed by all of the tile streets, paths, and sidewalks.

One night we were wandering around on top of the hill looking for dinner. We ran across this. I’m still not quite sure what it was – could this really just be young people having an impromptu dance party? Eventually we joined in, though we aren't great dancers. We must have been caught up in the Portugese spirit. 

Linked here: http://youtu.be/ayp5fJX5UC0

North Shore Amour Travels: Scuppernong Trail

I can think of few better ways to spend a crisp, chilly fall day than breathing fresh air, hiking in the trees, and spending the night under the stars with my husband and pup. 

Our hideout

Scuppernong Trail is only about an hour and a half drive from the North Shore.

I love the trail's massive pine trees, as much for the smell of pine needles under my feet as for the scenery.

A dog in the wild is a happy dog.