Published: October 7th 2010September 28th 2010
Oktoberfest - Munich
Arriving in Munich already feeling rough around the edges, I was lucky enough to meet a group of Australians in the immigration line who happened to be staying at the same hostel.
Unknown to me, the hostel had moved, as I had received copious advertising emails from the hostel, I had deleted the email which advised this all too important fact. We arrived at the original address, a quick phone call later, a 40 minute walk (in the rain) back to the train and soon we had arrived at Hang Over Hostival. Very interesting.
The new location was a large enclosed marquee tent with 'dorms' sectioned off by a crude bed sheet hanging on a wire from the roof. There were 4 toilets and 4 showers between 200 people. But it was clean, and warm, and the staff were the best I have ever stayed with, so we were quick to disregard the negatives.
My new friends and I woke early hearing that others had arrived at noon the day before and never made it into a tent. So at 8.30am we were there, ready and thirsty. By 10.30 am all manners had left
the tent. I have many pictures on my camera of testicals, a result of (which I am told later) me jumping on tables and violently screaming at an unsuspecting passer by to 'SHOW ME YOUR LEFT NUT', surprisingly (or perhaps not) I have about 5 different balls. Lovely.
It was a messy first night, and could only be outdone by the next, at which point I lost my friends in the crowd (did they do that on purpose?), unashamed to be on my own, I walked strait up to a table with fine looking men and asked who would like to but my next drink. 4 steins later I was having a good old party pash with a swedish gentleman. Very nice. Not wanting to join the massive amounts of drunkards on the infamous grassy hill, where the main attractions are vomiting and fucking, I swaggered to the station to head back to the hostel. Instead I meet 3 Germans who insisted I come to their house to party on, not one to decline a good time I jumped on the next train with them. 1.5 hours later, somewhere in the German country side, oh well, nothing left to
do but get absolutely shit faced.
The morning was interesting, and the house reeked or stale beer. Waiting at the train station I realised I had no idea where I was, what direction to take, and how in the world I was going to pay for a ticket. I was cashless, without ID and a phone. Oh well, on the train I jump and do my best not to breathe on all of my fellow train travellers who were not very discrete in way they did their best to lean away from me.
It took me 3.5 hours to get home, as once I arrived at the Central station I realised I had no idea where to go, and as the Hostel had relocated from its original location, the information at the tourist centre was incorrect. I had 1 Euro, I could either use this to surf the net and find the location myself, use the toilet (you have to pay in Europe) or get something to eat. All bad ideas, that Euro could pay for beer! Thus why the journey was so extended, in the end 4 police offices consoled me as I swayed and struggled to stand right and directed me.
Arriving back at the hostel it was about 3pm, fuck it. Shower, change and back to the fest (after carefully remembering what station I was staying at). Drink, Drink, Drink. Pash the Swede again (what are the chances of seeing that same person twice in a festival of over 500,000?) and stumble home... stumble stumble stumble, as I struggled along the road with my Hostel in sight, I had the sudden urge to urinate, this happens after drinks 5 steins. Nope, I can make it to the hostel bathroom, nope, no I cant. I have to admit, I felt no shame as I felt the warmth travel down my legs and into my shoes. I marched proudly into the hostel and anounced rather loudly that I had pissed myself, and I received the applause I had been hoping for, which indicated that I was a mad drunkard. Well, off to the shower and night clubbing for me. Unfortunately I had no other shoes, but I don't think anyone noticed.....
This pattern continued for days and I was soon referred to in the most affectionate manner as the 'mad bitch'. 1 missed flight, 800.00 euros and 2 cold sores later I was back in London. It took 2 nights and 3 full days of cold sweats, nightmares and uncontrollable shaking to detox my body, at which point I picked up some wine and visited friends to relive my adventures and head aches.
Perhaps shamefully I did not take the opportunity to take in the beauty of Munich at all, my time was spent between the hostel and the beer tents and much of it was a blur. I will leave the sight seeing for another sober visit.