99 (Thousand) Bottles of Beer on the Wall...

I would like to begin my blog post in a slightly questionable manner, by quoting the Urban Dictionary description of Oktoberfest:

“A huge party that goes on in October in Munich, Germany. Everyone's drunk 24/7, and there are rides, food, and everything you could ever want. Most importantly, there's a metric overload of beer wherever you look. 10% alcohol beer, by the liter.”

…yes, Urban Dictionary, it’s hard to deny that Oktoberfest is remarkably fratty. But here are a few things you may not know about Oktoberfest, that I have learned during my adventures:

1.     Contrary to the Urban Dictionary definition (and for some, popular belief) Oktoberfest is absolutely NOT in October. Why, you ask? Oktoberfest is held during the last three weeks of September to get rid of all the beer produced in the previous calendar year. The new harvest season begins again in October.

2.     Yes, they use the metric system; No, the beers are not strictly 10% alcohol. Depending on the bierhaus you go to, the alcohol content ranges anywhere from 8% - 10% (that I have experienced); this alcohol content doubles the average U.S. beer at 4%! [NOTE: I am gauging that statistic by the average watery college beer.]

3.     Oktoberfest is not strictly for drinking, though it is cause for celebration. The festivities are held for all ages, and children can play carnival games, eat cotton candy and ride the roller coasters that stretch across nearly half of the Oktoberfest grounds.

4.     Of course, visitors of age (15 years old in Germany) can drink in the massive beer tents that are set up in a grid formation behind the carnival grounds. Each haus carries its own reputation; for example, the Hofbrau Haus is known for the American crowd it draws (as you will clearly see in videos later in my post) and is where I spent the majority of my time!

My journey began once upon a Friday morning. I arrived blindly early in a city that greeted me with Mercedes-Benz taxis and Heidi Klum doppelgangers; needless to say, I was elated to be in Munich. Because the Oktoberfest festivities begin so early in the morning (sometimes around 6 AM), my travel companion -- Bridge -- and I had little time to waste. Mindlessly throwing on a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt at the hotel, I hopped onto a tram and ventured into the city center to find the Oktoberfest grounds.

Arial view of the Oktoberfest grounds

…I immediately realized that my outfit choice was, indiscreetly, a novice mistake. At best. The entrance to Oktoberfest was flooded with hundreds of men and women described best as offspring of the Von Tramp family--but think COLOR. Lots, and lots, and lots of color. The traditional garb worn by women is called a dirndl, and comes in both traditional and contemporary styles. Men, however, wear leiderhosen, which is traditionally brown suede and embroidered in a number of different patterns. These trousers look like board shorts that are connected to a thick set of suspenders – no wonder it’s all the rage.

A deserted 7 AM entrance to Oktoberfest

The wafting smell of beer hops and bliss were the first sensations to fill me, and after fighting my way through a dizzying crowd, I stumbled upon the Hofbrau Haus. As I mentioned earlier, this bier haus is famously American in attendance, and to my knowledge, avoided by locals. But authentic or not, this tent was a spectacle. Wooden picnic tables lined the haus floors from front to back, with thousands upon thousands of Americans feasting on limitless liters of Hofbrau beer. Monstrous shrubberies hung from the canvas ceiling, with souvenir shops and food stands lining every inch of wall.

The Hofbrau Haus...

...after we finally made it inside!

Tables are “claimed” at Oktoberfest on a first-come-first-serve basis, and generally groups of friends and universities will cluster in the same area. This was the case for Richmond on both Friday and Saturday, and I was lucky enough to spend the weekend with a number of my closest friends; some by planning, and others by happenstance. I was even fortunate enough to cross paths with a handful of friends from high school, and it serves as a reminder of how small this world actually is.

In Hofbrau Haus with my Prague AND Richmond roommate, Bridge!

....the pretzels are as tall (and large) as their accompanying tales.

Best friends/roommates take on Oktoberfest...

Each table is served by one waitress, also known as a “beer girl,” who takes care of drinks and food for everyone at their respective table. I was STUNNED by the number of liter beers these waitresses could carry: they would weave their fingers between six different jug handles on each hand, and carry them to the tables on behalf of our gluttony. I can hardly fathom how they did it, because I could hardly hold my own jug. Go, go, gadget fingers?

The party oozed American-ism throughout the afternoon, and it's really the first feeling of home I’ve had in a while. A band was situated in the middle of the room on a platform, and they played classics like "Sweet Caroline" and "Hey Baby" on endless loop. As the event got progressively -- and by progressively, I mean exponentially -- more rowdy, a brave few people would stand on their table and slug down a thick liter of beer. Rightfully, a roar would explode during the drinker’s final gulps, and from time to time, elicit a patriotic “U-S-A” chant. I was lucky enough to film this feat performed by one of my very own friends at Richmond, as posted below:

And so, the rumors are true – Oktoberfest is a spectacle that remains unmatched by any other Fraturday in existence (sorry, Mardi Gras enthusiasts...) It was a miracle that we repeated the same ritual the next day at an even more crowded and diverse Hofbrau Haus on Saturday morning. But after a weekend of overindulgence, we finally found some time to tour Munich.

The Glockenspiel Tower

Much like Prague, the city center of Munich is set up with a network of Metro stations, and local travel is mostly split between trams and subways. The train station is at the very middle of the city, and from there, sightseers radiate. Our group went to see the Glockenspiel Tower, which is most well known for the marionette-like statues in the clock’s spire that dance around when the clock strikes a new hour. 

"When in Munich... eat the Schnitzel?"

Of course, we also stopped in not one, but TWO different beer houses throughout the day. The first was the Schneider Weissehaus, which was crowded and filled with rowdy Germans – and I shamelessly dined on my first Wiener Schnitzel. For a sneek peek of the ambiance, take a look at the clip below:

And the second beer house was again Hofbrau Haus, but not to be mistaken for the one we visited at Oktoberfest. This was instead a famous restaurant with Hofbrau beer, but the permanent house in the middle of Munich. Aside from beer hauses, we couldn’t resist but have Haagen Dazs in the domicile of its conception. Before we knew it, our Sunday touring in Germany was spent, and we had to bid auf Wiedersehen to the motherland of gingerbread and braided pigtails.

SO -- here I am, back in Prague, and reluctantly in one piece. After a full day of registering for my classes at Charles University, I am preparing for a night of karaoke in Prague 2. Keep your ears open, because I have a feeling you’ll be able to hear me all the way in the US… 

Home, Sweet Flat!

Dobry den, loyal readers & viewers! Sorry I haven't had any time to post for you all, but I promise you that I am thoroughly enjoying all that Prague has to offer. If the video isn't enough, click here to see where my apartment is on a map. Videos and maps not the drink of your knowledge-quenching choice? You can expect an in-depth post within the next few days. Until then, enjoy this quick video tour...! Miss and love you all. Ciao for now! 

Czech-a Czech-a Boom Boom, Will There Be Enough Room?

After my past two weeks in the United States, it is clear that good ol’ Mother Nature wants me to… well, get the hell out of dodge.

I spent the past two weeks visiting my second home, the beloved University of Richmond, to seek refuge from a barrage of “you-are-leaving-in-three-weeks, young lady!”’s, and a to-do list that closely resembles the Torah. Two weeks later, I am hardly ready for my trip over the pond – as always, I submit to the statement: My parents were right.

And now, I’m figuring out that surviving a 5.8 magnitude earthquake, Hurricane Irene, AND a 5-day bender at school is just enough of a hint that I should leave while I’m ahead.

And so, ‘tis the season to go abroad! Yet another fall semester, and yet another flock of juniors. We insist on being a new generation of eager adventurers; diving into a foreign country, steeping in a kettle of new and exciting experiences, and unmindful to the fact that our predecessors have explored it all before. Truthfully, the only thing that I can personally promise to immerse myself in is a tall liter of Pilsner.

However, I am also promising myself to you all as readers.  From my previous trip abroad, I can attest to the difficulty of logging a day-to-day chronicle when traveling around a foreign country; it is exhaustive. But despite the painstaking process of pounding my narrative onto a computer screen, the memories I have kept since my last trip (to Irbid, Jordan last summer) leave the labor pains of documenting these memories inconsequential. This time around, I am beyond excited to extend my journey to you.

My leap into Czech culture will be accompanied by a stellar education, and the classes I will take at Charles University include a number of journalism and communications courses, complimented by a photojournalism course. My hope for this blog is to become a portal for not just written documentation, but photographic and video as well. This will be my first solo mission into the world of written and video journalism.

And so, I encourage you all to read, listen and enjoy, of course – but please feel free to comment with questions or ideas for future postings! I hope to take on some exciting projects while in the Czech Republic and across Europe, and any input or encouraging words will help steer me through this virtual experiment.

Before disembarking on September 12^th, I will be engorging myself with a few last moments of Americanism; the anticipated kick-off to the 2011 NFL season, Saturday morning Spongebob marathons, and Reeses Peanut Butter Cups like it’s nobody’s business. But today, I was surprised by a very unusual American moment: A visit from my neighbor that reminded me just how much I will miss home while I’m away.

Her name is Lulu. Her name also very much resembles her person; short, and eccentric. Adorned with pearls draped in tiers around her neck, a red caplet over her black calf-length dress, and eye shadow that would put Cher to shame, Lulu approached me in my driveway yesterday as she was waiting for a cab to arrive. She was off to the New York Philharmonic to hear their rendition of West Side Story; I was power washing our driveway, looking frumpty-dumpty in my pj’s from last night.

Though she is eccentric, talking to Lulu is absolutely infectious; after listening to her swoon over West Side Story for a few minutes, I told her a bit about Prague. She looked me square in the eyes with a curling smile and said, “I have a special farewell handshake to extend to you tomorrow. It’s called the Chamarro handshake, but I’ll explain the meaning in more depth later.” And with that, our conversation came to an indefinite end.

By this time, I was worried I was dealing with some sort of witch doctor business, but thanked her anyway. And if you’re wondering what a Chamarro handshake is, don’t bother Googling it… it isn’t there.

So today, still looking frumpty-dumpty as ever, I greeted Lulu at the door when she rang. She smiled at me warmly but got right down to business: “I told you that I would have to give you a Chamarro handshake before you leave,” she giggled, as if I could have ever forgotten our previous encounter. “It is customary in my family that when a loved one leaves for college, abroad, or moves away, the entire family comes with them to the airport.” At this point, I was nervous that that was a self-invitation. She continued, “So just like any other family member, I’d like to wish you God speed and the best of luck in your adventures.” And with a smile, she kissed me on the cheek and placed her closed fist into my open palm that I had extended to shake her hand. When I drew my hand back, I looked down to find a crumpled ball of paper; though a depreciating wad of paper, I knew I would put this 20$ to good use when converting it to Crones.

And so, this begins my wonderful journey with a reminder of the loved ones around me – some more eccentric than others – as I leap into a country full of unknowns. A crumpled ball of 20$, my ambition, and this Princess and the Prague Blog is about all I have for now… but Lulu’s luck, along with all of yours, should serve me well.

…even though the first thing my dad said upon viewing this blog was, “Prague doesn’t rhyme with pea!” Once again, my uncanny lack-of-detectable-wit has reduced me to a mediocre start.

Prague – 1, Kait – 0.