Mini-toberfest

After the Alps, we were understandably pretty high on Salzburg. We all had plans to continue on to Munich for Oktoberfest and were expecting a nice quiet night to rest up for the worlds biggest party. Salzburg surprised us though. The little city didn't go down without a fight.

We went out to a great traditional Austrian restaurant and ate in the roof beer garden. Halfway through my first-and still my best- schnitzel, the city erupted with fireworks.

After dinner we walked down to the center of the old town to see what the commotion was about. We stumbled into Salzburg's version of Oktoberfest. It was obviously miniature and slightly tame in comparison to Munich's version, but no less the experience.

Since there was only one tent, every type of recalled was under one roof. Oktoberfest has its college age tent, its American tourist tent and its local tents. We arrived during the peak of the night- tables packed, festive singing and red-faced Austrians. We ordered the customary liter beers and were lucky enough to find some space at a table. On one side of us, there was a group of older couples who we enjoyed trying to talk to. The language barrier was a little strong but they loved it when we pretended to know the words to the songs and the women thought it was hilarious when I stood up on the bench and towered over them.

Nice Austrian bunny ears

On the other side of us, we had a group of three middle-aged guys who clearly had been at the tent since breakfast. The first spoke no English, which wasn't a problem because after introducing himself he promptly put his head on the table and passed out. The second spoke no English as well, which was a problem because he went back and forth between giving me elaborate handshakes- think the type of celebration handshake baseball players do in the dugout- and challenging me to box and arm wrestle through drunken sign language. The third guy DID speak English, which was a problem because of the things he was whispering to Dana.

Guy #2

When the music ended, after one last Prost, the older group left. We stuck around a little longer, but as the English speaking guy got creepier, we learned that at an Austrian party, you gotta go home when the music stops.

The next day, Brinton and Dana headed off for the big leagues, Oktoberfest. I scrapped my far-fetched plans of spending a half-day at the festival and catching a 5 am bus to Prague to meet my mom. Instead, I caught a train to Prague a day early.