Postcard From Germany: Raising a Stein to Oktoberfest

After one, or more, of those giant 7.40 euro ($9.40) beers, so much about Oktoberfest starts to make perfect sense.

Like paying that much for beer. Or how close you suddenly become with everyone around you about 20 minutes after said beer is served.

I even began envisioning how I'd look in a long Bavarian dirndl dress, with a cute apron. And I wondered whether my husband might like some lederhosen. Like that worn by the German salesman across from me, all decked out for his yearly three-day, eight-steins-daily blitz with friends.

"We are absolutely normal people on the other days," the salesman insists.

Universal, yet unique

For this, we can all thank King Ludwig I, who back in 1810 threw such a fabulous wedding party that it turned into a yearly affair. Now in its 173rd year, it is the world's biggest festival. Its six million partiers supposedly drink just a liter of beer apiece, though I find that statistic kind of hard to believe.

Oktoberfest this year runs through Oct. 3 and has the cotton candy, roller coasters and Ferris wheels of festivals everywhere, but a unique energy and quirkiness. The giant pretzels, at 3.30 euros, are not to be eaten by yourself (trust me, I tried), those shockingly orange salmon sandwiches are quite tasty, and the ubiquitous gingerbread hearts are adorable, even the ones that have the silly line of icing reading "Ich bin single."

Not surprisingly, American accents were everywhere among the international crowd, though not enough to please the lame tourist overheard whining "Why don't they all speak English? It would make my life so much easier."

The real fun appears to be inside the 14 beer tents, though we had to get there early and stake out a table for several hours before the beer and band showed up.

Once they did, it didn't take long for me to become certain that I had perfected the drinking songs, though my German isn't great and my singing voice is even worse.

Who loses at Oktoberfest?

My deepest sympathies do go to the waiters, who managed to carry a precarious pyramid of steins down the aisles while shoving aside me and my camera; the poor souls who had to clean the place; and anyone who for whatever reason wasn't drinking.

Oktoberfest was always something I wanted to have been to, yet wasn't sure I actually wanted to go to. But I absolutely would return. Of course, this might be because I followed the advice to leave while everyone was happy and before the beer stopped flowing.

I do, however, somewhat regret that I left without a dirndl.

In this new occasional series, "Postcard From Germany," DW-WORLD.DE offers you snapshots of places around the country. Please let us know if there's a town or city you'd like to know more about.