Freising, Lederhosen, Dirndls and Thousand-year old Beer

During my Bavarian Sojourn, I spent a few days in Freising. Freising is a lovely Bavarian city located just north of Munich. Freising has a population of 45,000.

It was a short train commute from Freising to the Oktoberfest, which turned out to be easy and efficient, as German trains are well known for their punctuality. You might say their trains run like a Swiss watch. Which is not a far stretch since DB Bahn runs through Switzerland as well as Germany and Austria. I have commonly heard it said that you can set your watch by the German trains. It is true. The neither arrive a minute late nor a minute early. The International Atomic Clock checks with the German trains once a month to make minor adjustments. 

 

I stayed at the Bayerischer Hof and had excellent service. The hospitality at the Bayerischer Hof was par excellence. I am 51 years old and have been staying in hotels for all of my adult life, and I have to say I have never had better hospitality anywhere. I had a lovely conversation over dinner with retired Canadian cyclists and the hotel manager. The Canadian couple were biking across Europe. The manager was very intelligent and insightful about world politics, German economics and European culture. 

Frühstuck (breakfast) is always included in the German hotels. Frühstuck is nothing like the American “continental” breakfast where you get dried out English muffins and instant oatmeal. The frühstuck in the german hotels was an elaborate spread of a wide variety of foods. Forgive the incredibly long list, but this is what they had: Fresh cold cuts and varied cheeses, whole grain breads and various fresh rolls and pastries, assorted locally made jams and jellies, assorted fruits, fresh yogurts, eggs made to order, bacon, sausages, waffles to order, coffee, tea, juices, Nutella (they were big on Nutella). The frühstuck could easily cover your needs for breakfast and lunch, especially if you have nice pockets in your suit coat, if you know what I mean (wink wink). Oh, I’m just kidding. (….Maybe).

     

 

One thing that was a new experience for me as an American in Germany was the locks on the doors. In America, all our hotels have electronic keys which you slide a card into a slot to open. Not in Germany. they have big huge keys, and you have to unlock and re-lock your door both from the inside and outside  These keys matched the big german word for key, “Schlüssel.” They have to make them bigger than American keys to match the magnitude of the words. I’m just glad they are not named “Schlüsselfürschlösser,” then they would not have fit in my pocket. (Schlüssel für Schlösser means key for locks … and I would not put it past the Germans to make up such a word, if you know anything about the German language, you know what I mean.)

Visit the Bayerischer Hof in person... or online.

Right next door to the Bayerischer there was Dirndl shop, so naturally that is where I went to get my Lederhosen and hat. Like the hotel, the service at the dirndl shop was outstanding. The clerks spoke hardly any English, so it was a great test of my rudimentary german and iPhone translator. Lederhosen are traditionally made from goat leather. They date back at least to the mid-18th century, and are originally the traditional clothing of mountain shepherds. The Dirndl originated as an Austrian maid’s dress. In this day and age, Germany’s top models are paid high dollars to wear designer dirndls at the Oktoberfest opening ceremony. The word is shortened from “DirndlKleid.” Kleid is “dress.”  Dirndl, in some Austrian dialects, is “girl.” So you could go to the Oktoberfest and see Dirndls wearing Dirndls. Although this represents the historical language; I’ve never heard a modern German referring to a girl (Mädchen) as a Dirndl. I think if I had walked up to a girl at the Oktoberfest and said “hey dirndl, nice dirndl,” she would have slapped me and called me a stupid American Lederhosen.

 
 

 

Apparently, many cities in Germany adopt an animal mascot. They’ve done this for centuries. I wonder if this is an evolutionary forerunner to sports teams naming themselves after ferocious animals? Maybe some American cities should do the same. Detroit could be the Dodo bird because it is just about extinct from lack of ability to adapt quickly enough. Washington DC could be the Mockingbird; they say what you want to hear but it isn’t their real song. Freising, for whatever reason, identified with bears. Bavaria, as a larger region, identified with lions. (There are no lions in Bavaria; neither large cats nor Detroit footballers). So all around the city of Freising were whimsically painted bear statues. 

Freising has the oldest brewery the world; Weihenstephen. Weihenstephen began in the year 1040. (The beer isn’t a thousand years old, just the brewery.) To put that in perspective, other things that happened in the same year:  1. Harthacunte lands in Sandwich and claims the English throne. 2. Block printing invented in China. 3. Lady Godiva rode naked through Mercia and 3. Weihenstephan starts brewing beer in Bavaria. The only one that remains? The Bavarian brewery.  Weihenstephen is now owned by the German state of Bavaria. Weihenstephen actually has a university, where they teach, of course, brewing. They also offer degrees in university -- B.S. and Master's in biotech, engineering, renewable resource, landscape, architecture and applied science. The university is also the home of a beautiful flower garden.

  

 

I would definitely visit Freising again. 

Every picture in this post was taken by me, with my iPhone-c. Many of these buildings date back to the 13th century.  Enjoy these pics of the city of Freising:

Dave Goes to the Oktoberfest

My fellow geeky Midwestern Americans will understand me when I say that the Oktoberfest sort of reminds me of Cedar Point plus Renaissance Fair plus beer. I was surprised by the number of permanent rides and beir hauses, the sheer magnitude of the event, the physical size of the grounds, the huge throngs of people. I was not surprised that a slightly but noticeably higher percentage of these people were obviously drunk compared to the typical crowd you might run into at any non-beer-centric event. That is not because I grew up with hard drinking people of German decent, but because Oktoberfest is, after all, a beer festival. Red faced, glassy eyed, staggering patrons here and there amidst an otherwise apparently sober crowd. You gotta love breakfast. My temporary friend, Peter, told me the first person taken to the hospital this year was a woman who drank herself seriously ill. It was 30 minutes after the park opened for the 2013 season. I don't want to give the wrong impression; it wasn't like a zombie attack of drunkards. The vast majority of the celebrants were sober and civilized (or hid it well).

Just in case you thought, like I once did, that the Asparagus Festival in Kalamazoo is the world’s largest festival, let me correct you now. World wide, Oktoberfest is the largest annual festival. The Munich Oktoberfest began as a wedding party for the crowned prince Ludwig I, and evolved into a celebration of the harvest (and beer). Now it co-celebrates the anniversary of the German reunification of 1990. The Oktoberfest started almost two hundred years ago in 1810. More than 6 million people from around the world attending the event every year. The festival is held annually at Theresienwiese.  Theresienwiese is the name of the fairgrounds. Literally it means Therese’s meadow.Therese was Ludwig’s bride. The locals simply call the festival Wiesn. I’m glad I looked it up before going to the train. I asked a local where he was headed, and he answered “Wiesn.” I asked if I could follow him. That’s how Peter and his wife, Marget, became my friends for about two hours. 

I don't know where the German stereotype of an uptight and humorless personality came from, but it certainly was NOT Bavaria. With my rudimentary German I have been able talk with many people, some with no English, and some with English far better than my German. People here are very hospitable, friendly, and warm. Peter and Marget were one of many examples. We hung out for about two hours. They own a spice wholesaling business started by his grandfather. After the train, the three of us bought a bicycle-rickshaw ride for a very circuitous route through the city to the Oktoberfest. Peter was actually very funny, we talked about our lives and laughed a lot. They gave me a tour of the highlights, including the grassy knoll where overly enthusiastic beerophiles can be found sleeping it off.

After Peter and Marget and I parted ways, I ventured into a bier hall where I made friends at the table with a couple, John and June. John spoke no English at all, and June’s was rudimentary, as is my German. We managed to talk and laugh for about 90 minutes together. She is a geriatric home health care nurse, so we had careers in medicine in common. 

They were drinking out of huge beer steins, about a liter in size. The picture I took belies the size of the mug. I should have put an American penny next to it for perspective. I only wanted one small beer; I was not up for a liter. I did not want to wake up the next morning on a dew-soaked lawn. John insisted on buying me two more. There was lots of singing and dancing in the hall, and occasional group dancing on the table. 

The Oktoberfest sets high standards for their beer, and only six breweries are allowed to serve. They include Augustiner, Hacker-Pschorr, Löwenbräu, Paulaner, Spatebräu, and Staalisches Hofbräu. They all have at least 6% alcohol by volume.  I have never liked beer. I grew up with a beer drinking dad, and beer drinking friends from beer drinking families in a rural beer drinking county.  There was an unspoken expectation that if I were going to be a man, then I would like beer, damn it. I have tried to like it for years, but it just does not come naturally. There are a few beers I will enjoy when I am in a rare mood and with the right food, like tacos or pizza. I had a small glass (well, three small glasses thanks to John) of Augustiner. For the first time in my life, I sipped a beer that instantly tasted good. I didn't have to pretend to like it; it genuinely tasted good to me.

It may seem odd that I spent the time and money to go to a beer festival when I am not a beer drinker. I came to Germany primarily to meet family, and the time and location offered me the opportunity to come to this world even on the way to meet Bavarian cousins in person for the first time. I have no regrets about coming. My first venture into world travel has been enlightening and rewarding, the Oktoberfest was a hoot, Bavarians are fun, and I now own what every red-blooded American male yearns for; my own lederhosen.