One of recurring themes of my posts is the tension between authenticity and tourism. As travelers, we’re quite-naturally drawn to the “big-ticket” sights: the Great Wall of China, the Leaning Tower of Pisa, the Louvre, etc. When you’re in the vicinity of those locations, you pretty much have to visit them. I mean, can you imagine going to Egypt and not seeing the pyramids? Absurd! In my experience, those world-famous sites tend to pan out. They’re renowned for a reason. I had seen pictures of the Taj Mahal my whole life; upon visiting it for the first time, I was prepared to be disappointed. I wasn’t; it was *that* good.
On the other hand, we regular travelers are also averse to over-tourism. Sure, we want to visit the Eiffel Tower. But we don’t want to run the gauntlet of souvenir and trinket shops on our way to the ticket booth. We don’t want to be stopped by a guy dancing in an Eiffel Tower costume, insisting we take a picture with him while wearing a beret. Ideally, we would arrive at the site – whatever it is – and quietly take photos of it without hassle, fanfare or interruption. Fat chance of that! Great sights attract great tourist hordes, and someone is always more than happy to sell you food, drink and high-priced swag.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve found myself more and more drawn to the non-tourist attractions. Left to my own devices, I’m more than content to just wander a quiet foreign neighborhood, making low-key discoveries and observing how people actually live. This was not the case, however, when I was 21 years old, in search of novelty and excitement. Which leads me to the Hofbrauhaus in Munich.
The most-famous beer hall in the world (and also the largest), the Hofbrauhaus can hold up to 5,000 people. It’s the Superdome of beer. Although revelers come to the Hofbrauhaus to eat and imbibe, they’re inevitably struck by the rich history of the place.
Established in 1589 by the Duke of Bavaria, what was once the Royal Brewery morphed into a restaurant and entertainment center patronized by legendary figures such as Mozart, Lenin, Gorbachev, Louis Armstrong and JFK. I’d be remiss if I neglected to mention that Hitler was also a patron of the Hofbrauhaus. He held the first meeting of the National Socialists here in February 1920.
During WWII, the premised were destroyed by Allied bombing; the Hofbrauhaus didn’t re-open until 1958, when it soon regained its popularity due in large part to impressed American soldiers.
Imagine your idea of a German beer hall – and supersize it. Visitors gather on long wooden tables, many of which have been here for over 100 years. (The tables, not the visitors!) Looking up, you discover paintings of fruits and vegetables stretching across the ceiling, lit by huge chandeliers. After a while, an oompah band strikes up a jaunty tune, perhaps, “In München steht ein Hofbräuhaus, oans, zwoa, g’suffa!” (“There’s a Hofbräuhaus in Munich—one, two, down the hatch!”).
Even at age 21, I know this is all pretty corny. Heck, more than half of my fellow revelers are American colleges students like me, in search of beer, sausages and a good time. But darned if the Hofbrauhaus doesn’t win me over with its unapologetic exuberance. Before I know it, I’ve got a healthy buzz on and I’m on my feet with everyone else, spinning around and flapping my arms to the chicken dance like a drunken best man at a wedding reception.
Say what you will about the Hofbrauhaus: “It’s not authentic. It’s just for the tourists. No Munchner would be caught dead here.” But it sure is fun! And sometimes, that’s enough.
(You know you’re getting old when you find yourself saying, “Somebody needs to knock some sense into these young people!” It’s so easy to forget what it was like when you were first starting out in the world — stretching your wings, discovering your capacity — in search of raw “experience.” Heck, before age 25, our frontal cortexes weren’t even fully developed! We can only be who we are meant to be at that particular point in life. Just as there’s little point in judging other people for their failings, there’s also no point in criticizing our younger selves – or young people in general – for their immaturity. And honestly, is maturity really working that well for you? Whatever your age, I say stand up and do the chicken dance.)