The Biggest Beer Garden in Europe

According to Let's Go Germany, the Hirschgarten in Munich is the biggest beer garden in the Europe, seating 8000 people, which means one of two things: the Hirschgarten (which means stag garden because of the deer on grounds) employs a proportionate number of people; or else it has figured out a better system.

The patrons of the Hirschgarten and its cousins along the river Isar can best be described as IN-DE-FA-TI-GA-BLE, and washing their own stein is a small price to pay. Many, in fact, have decided never to wash their stein again, and merely store it in special locked cabinets located on the chestnut-shaded premises.

Yes, they use toilet scrubbers, and the questions here is, when was the last time you doubted a German? (anyone who's ever been to Germany, disregard).

Here's Mom, knowing what to do.

The Biggest Beer Garden in Europe has other things going for it: like a much-needed-revenue-bringing flea market, selling items like a pair of toothbrushes for 1 Euro, toilet scrubbers, and the glorified, yet seldom-seen "Fleischwolf". The Fleischwolf is the epitome of German schadenfreude towards animals, and is basically a mixer. The muddy fields also yield to lederhosen shops, 50 varieties of low-end frying pans, and two exhibition rides (nothing like children screaming to set off a party).

To celebrate my induction among apparent gypsies, I bought a nice head covering, let my hair down and scratched the mud to dirty my fingernails. Why do your fingernails look like that? My Mom asked when I returned. I looked confused for a minute. Hmm, I said. This sure is a big place. I looked around at all the empty tables, and in my beerland buzz pondered the logistics of 9000 people. That's nine times the size of the mob that stormed the Bastille in 1789, sparking the French Revolution. If only this number of people could put their minds to something again... wait a minute, what the hell am I talking about.

World War two is inextricable from modern Germany, but I'm discouraged when I read every other page in Let's Go that Hitler once patroned this or that beer garden or brewery - not because it means he had more resolve than I'll ever have since he didn't smoke or drink or eat meat, but because following his footsteps seems to be a trend now for tourists. He is more exciting fuel for the imagination than the antiquated Goethe or Luther. Find out what it was like to be Hitler while sipping a Radler. Step right in, ya got nuttin to lose. When the book mentions no relation to a political event I have to wonder who would get excited about "reliving" Hitler's life in such campy fashion; it doesn't appeal to me.

But none of this mattered while I had a Maß adhered to my outer cheekbones, admiring the golden glow of the Hirschgarten through beer and glass. A Maß, darling of Oktoberfest, is a stein that holds one litre of beer, almost a pitcher, at half the price it would cost in North America. Bringing the stein to your face is like experiencing extreme gravity, and requires two hands, which makes it feel a bit like bringing a toilet bowl to your face. Maybe the implication is intented: keep drinking and that's where you'll be.

Maybe Germans can give subtle warnings after all. (see Berlin - Canadian Embassy)