Oktoberfest 2024: ‘I get knocked down, but I get up again’
After a short stroll past the hectic mix of slot machines, baccarat tables and display cars, I found myself in front of Solaire Resort Entertainment City’s Grand Ballroom.
It was the first night of Oktoberfest 2024. And if the event banners flanking the entrance doors didn’t make it obvious enough, the welcoming party—a group of ladies in dirndls and a guy in lederhosen—drove the point home. Before curious passers-by, they danced and waved their hands aloft to a jolly ditty that drowned the clack and jangle of the nearby casino.
The hall was converted into a sprawling beer garden. The interiors were swathed in whites and blues, from the ceiling streamers to the cloth draped over rows of tables. The choice of colors, apparently, was a nod to the heraldry of Bavaria, the German state where the annual festival—now celebrated worldwide—originated back in 1810.
The waitstaff, also dressed in traditional garb, ushered me to my table, where a generous selection of German-style appetizers was already laid out: an assortment of bread, cold cuts and cheeses; three kinds of salad (Munich-style sausage, potato, white cabbage); pea soup; and soft pretzels that paired well with poached white sausages and sweet mustard.
As soon as I sat down, the night’s first pint of cold beer was placed right in front of me. Okay, maybe having two cups of coffee 20 minutes earlier wasn’t such a good idea.
World’s oldest brewery
The lager—light, crisp, refreshing—was by a brand called Weihenstephan, which touts itself as “the world’s oldest brewery.” Whether that’s true or not was beside the point; the important thing was that the beer flowed freely, as promised. And the servers made sure to remind me about this every chance they got, or whenever they saw that my mug wasn’t filled to the brim.
Like the beer, the food was replenished as it was decimated, or simply as the guests pleased. The night was still young and the main courses were yet to be served. I had to strategize. I completely skipped the bread, and instead, kept my mouth distracted with tangy cubes of mountain cheese and slices of smoky black forest ham.
The sauerkraut, I gladly gorged on. Fiber! And I love most things pickled. Whenever a server threatened to take the bowl of shredded cabbage to make space on the table, the girl seated across me—whose name I forgot to ask—would protest on my behalf: “Huwag, favorite niya ‘yan.”
The Oktoberfest 2024, held Oct. 10-12 at Solaire’s Parañaque location and will continue on Oct. 19 and 20 at Solaire North in Quezon City—prides itself in being “the most authentic” of its kind in the Philippines. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that it was mounted by the German Club Manila, the officials of whom formally opened the night with the ceremonial tapping of the barrel.
Founded in 1906, the longstanding group describes itself as a “home away from home” that provides a “warm and cozy atmosphere” for its multinational members. And the night’s hosts did have everyone warmed up with a lighthearted exercise routine of sorts—like a livelier, more dance-like version of the Japanese radio taiso.
Sauerkraut
I toggled between the meat loaf and pork schnitzel, the beef goulash and frankfurters. I washed them all down with beer. And during my tactical pauses, I would reach for the sauerkraut anew—if only to delude myself that I was striking some sort of dietary balance. It was the Oktoberfest version of ordering a triple burger, large fries and Coke Zero.
The Bavarian Sound Express, a 12-piece German ensemble flown in from Munich, took care of the musical entertainment. The night’s set was a heady mix of brass-heavy festival staples that ranged from waltzy folk melodies and uproarious tavern songs to Schlager pop tunes, like Gitti und Erika’s “Heidi,” which I recognized as the theme of a childhood anime of the same title: “Heidi, Heidi, anak-pawis ka sa kabundukan!”
The ensemble also performed classic American pop songs that so happened to be Filipino karaoke favorites, too: “Fame” by Irene Cara, “I Will Survive” by Gloria Gaynor, “Y.M.C.A.” by the Village People and “Barbara Ann” by The Beach Boys. Much to my surprise and amusement, they even busted out “Rock Baby Rock” by VST & Company.
But for the most part, the people made their own entertainment. The air was filled with endless chatter and a sense of abandon. Tables were packed with office workers unwinding after a day’s work or friends clinking mugs and sharing a laugh. The aisles were busy with revelers milling around, waitresses offering shots of Jägermeister and eager servers replacing cutlery and plates if they so much as got a smudge.
Now, what’s an Oktoberfest celebration without a beer-drinking contest? Some contestants opted to go slow and steady while others chugged and stopped. And then there were those who could seemingly inhale a whole pint in one go. At one point, the game proved to be too intense that one man ended up dousing his face in beer and filling his nostrils with foam.
As the night wore on, the alcohol started to kick in. Almost everyone was standing up. The shrieks and laughter were louder than ever. A girl challenged a waiter to a hilariously ungainly dance duel. Every so often, chanting revelers would form a line and snake through the venue, the human dance train getting longer and rowdier with every succeeding round-trip.
The dance floor now teemed with the uninhibited, determined to dance the night away. And as it all happened, Chumbawamba’s “Tubthumping” blared from the stereos: “I get knocked down, but I get up again”—quite a fitting bop for the night’s ebb and flow of inebriation.
Of course, I watched all these—admittedly just a touch tipsily—over my nth helpings of sausages and pints of beer. And sauerkraut.
