Mermaids, Music and Me

My mother tells everyone she’s older than dirt.  Can you imagine how old I must have felt when I received a FB message one day from a former student wondering if I would teach her four year old daughter?

Since I still have my Barbie’s, love to play dress-up and can still fit into some of my favorite outfits from high school, I somehow forgot that as my student’s matured, I grew old…well, older.  And now a former student is all grown up with a daughter. I’m not sure if I was in shock that I had actually grown older since I’ve always had the Peter-Pan mindset and thankfully genes or I was shocked to learn my former student was a mother.

I’ve taught 2,000 kids, more or less, in my career and believe it or not, I haven’t forgotten any of my students.  They have all touched my heart one way or another.  I know I shouldn’t admit this, but Laura was a favorite of mine. 

You know the rule:  teachers must never have favorites, but some kids just get under your skin.  She was intelligent, sweet, and had a smile that could light up a room with rays of sunshine.

Even her dog, Lucy, was fabulous.  Lucy was a miniature collie with a white bunny tail.  Talk about cute.

Anyway, the day I received Laura’s FB message, tears formed in my eyes.   I was so touched that she remembered me after all these years.  That somehow I made a difference in her life. 

I had always hoped to be someone’s Mrs. O’Brien, my fifth grade teacher, who made a defining difference in my life.  She changed me profoundly and I have always hoped to do the same for my students.

Laura and I spoke and selected a time for me to teach Samantha.  The four year old was waiting for me at the front door, peeking out the window.  

I saw the most beautiful fairy princess ever.  I think if Disney needs a young starlet to portray a little girl-turned princess-Samantha would be given a contract for life.

The door opened and Laura was standing next to Samantha.  Laura’s brilliant smile radiated, almost blinding me. The years hadn’t changed her.  Still beautiful, sweet and her mini-me was glowing with happiness. 

Samantha Princess Pianist

She twirled in her turquoise sparkly princess dress and walked across the floor on her tippy toes, like a ballerina, minus toe shoes, and I ooh-and ahhh-ed over her dress, her loveliness…her everything.

I was filled with so much love, the tears barely remained in my eyes.  I was so touched to be reunited with Laura and now to have the honor of teaching her daughter~truly a princess.

Every week Samantha still waits for me at the front door, peeking through the window, wearing a different outfit. I never know if she will be a roaring twenties flapper, mermaid, or lollipop.

Flapper Pianist

Mermaid and Music

Lollipop Musician

Like mother, like daughter: Laura and Samantha ~  Heidi Goldman's students

The one thing I do know is that child has made a profound difference in my life and I hope to do the same for her.  Time will tell.

Heidi Goldman with Samantha

So, if I get a FB message from Samantha in years to come asking if I’m still teaching piano and would I consider teaching her daughter…I will take out my Barbie’s, put on a flapper dress and dash over to see a third generation of fabulous girls.

                                                                 

Conversations Around The Piano

When I sit next to my piano students and watch them play their scales and chords, occasionally a child will stop,  looking earnestly into my eyes and tell me something important. Or silly. And if the child is three to six years old, h/she might not know the difference.

Sometimes I feel like I’m in a sitcom from the 1950’s.  Picture George Burns and Gracie Allen:

Unfortunately, I’m always the straight-man in these scenarios…minus the cigar and chin stubble.

One afternoon while I was teaching three year old Matthew, he stopped playing his five finger C scale and looked at me with urgency.

“Miss Heidi?  I have to tell you. Something ‘portent,”

“Can it wait until after you finish playing your scales?”

“Nooooooooooooo!”

I looked at the three year old with concern.  “What is it?”

“I used to have a pet.”

I grinned.  “Oh?”

“Uh-huh.”

Here comes the set-up a la George and Gracie:

“What was it?”

“An ant.”

“You had a pet ant?”

“His name was Fred.”

 “What happened to him?”

“He’s dead!”  His eyes filled with tears.

“Dead?  How did he die?”

“Daddy stepped on him.”

I bit my lip hard to stop the grin that was forthcoming.  A tragic story in the life of a three year old.

“I’m sure daddy didn’t see him.  It was an accident, honey.”

“Should I play my G scale now?”

I placed a loving arm around his shoulder.  “Remember to curve your fingers.”

“I know, I know!  Uh, Miss Heidi?”

“Yes, Matthew?”

“What was the name of that guy who was deaf and could still write music?”

“The composer’s name was Beethoven.”

“Wasn’t he a dog?”

As a child specialist…these are the tender moments I treasure.

Treble Clef 

Music ~ The Universal Language

¿Habla usted español?  Parlez-vous français?  Sprechen Sie deutsch?  Parli italiano?

Huh?  Has Heidi Goldman's  tattletalesfromabroad.blogspot.com become a multi-lingual blog?  Not to worry.  You may not speak a foreign language, but you already understand one:  Music.  The universal language.

It may sound cliché to say that music is the universal language, but I discovered first- hand how true that phrase is. When I lived in Segovia, Spain, I went through piano withdrawal by week two.  I missed playing the piano, expressing my emotions musically and just playing for the sheer joy of making music.

One evening, I stumbled upon an old tavern and as I made my way downstairs, I heard a fabulous band playing everything from Bob Dylan to Flamenco music.  Oh, how my ears perked up.  When the musicians took a break, I snuck over to the piano and began playing.  Before I knew it, they came racing back and accompanied me.  When the bar finally closed at four AM, Fernando, the lead guitarist, taught me how to play Flamenco on the piano.  He played the rhythms and chords on the guitar and I imitated him on the piano until he was satisfied.  A mini lesson in Spain.  What an unexpected treat.

Have you ever noticed musicians giving each other the look at a concert? The band members know something magical and sometimes mischievous is about to happen.  The musician may suddenly change keys, just to throw off the others, or will play a musical quote, taking a phrase or two from a well know piece of music and including it in h/her improvisation.  It can be from a Chopin Nocturne or from something silly like, The Flintstones, bringing nods and laughter from a knowing audience and the musicians themselves.

The next evening, Fernando took center stage and winked at the pianist and gave the look to the others. 

The band began playing intense gypsy music when suddenly they incorporated  The Pink Panther theme into their number.  The audience roared with laughter, clapping wildly. It was one of those moments when words are meaningless and music speaks volumes.

After the set, their pianist introduced himself and invited me to his piano store during the siesta the next day.  Being a world-class insomniac, I can’t nap and welcomed the opportunity to play while Spain was slumbering.  I didn’t have any music, but began playing an old favorite Sonatina by Kuhlau…when suddenly I was being accompanied by a stranger, a Spaniard who knew the same piece, also by memory.  There we were.  Different cultures.  Different languages…but the music joined us together.  When we finished, we both looked at each other knowingly and smiled a smile that broke the language barrier.  It resonated in the store, just like the Sonatina.

Bye Bye Blues

Do you ever feel depressed?  Not clinically, but blue?  Maybe blue-er than blue?  I have days like that, too.

While the whole world seems to be popping Xanax, using illegal drugs or drinking too much alcohol, consider music.  Yes, music.  Whistle a Happy Tune may have seemed cliché in the King and I…but just think about it for a moment.

Don’t you sing when you’re happy?  Maybe in the shower or driving to work.  Some may whistle.  Some may hum.  In some way, music is being made.

Usually when we’re depressed, we have ugly thoughts that appear out of nowhere.  They won’t go away.  

They torment us, making us feel worse.  We isolate ourselves and feel lonely.

A few years ago, a dear friend was depressed and I suggested that when the voices came to haunt her and fill her with self-doubt, she should begin singing either aloud or in her head.  It’s impossible to hear the “stinking thinking” when you’re singing lyrics or the melody to a favorite song.  You simply cannot talk and sing at the same time.  In a world of multi-tasking, I dare you to try.  Once she practiced this technique, she gained control of her emotions.

Approximately 120 million people suffer from depression.  “This can be seen in disturbed appetite, sleep patterns and overall functioning as well as leading to low self-esteem and feelings of worthlessness and guilt.  

It can lead to suicide and is associated with 1 million deaths a year.” (Science Daily.)

Music can play an active roll in one’s emotional well-being.  Studies have shown that music affects the brain waves of individuals and has mood altering properties.  Music therapy has been beneficial because often times the depressed individual becomes less social and active.  With classes, h/she will listen to music, participate with others, and simultaneously develop friendships.  Stress and anxiety are relieved.  According to The American Music Therapy Association, music therapy interventions can be designed to, “promote wellness, manage stress, alleviate pain, express feelings, enhance memory, improve communication and 

promote physical rehabilitation.”

In addition, music therapy is beneficial for children with ADD as well as reducing anxiety in cancer patients.  Hospitals are using music therapy to aid in pain management. Movement helps ward off the aches and pains of arthritis and muscle tension and as the patient becomes more active, their emotional outlook changes from hopeless to hopeful.

But what about children?  We don’t think of children suffering from depression.  What do they have to be depressed about?  They live in nice homes, go to good schools, vacation with parents.  In today’s society with social media, children are bullied on Facebook, Twitter, MySpace and at school.  Peer pressure to be accepted is great.  Parent’s expectations for their children to succeed creates over-achievers who have difficulty coping.  There is an excessive amount of homework, aggressive encouragement to participate in sports and do hours of volunteer work so that their college resume exceeds that of their neighbor’s children.

Kids need down-time.  Just like adults.  We all need to recharge our batteries, regardless of age.  And when we do, it is easier to accept life’s challenges.

One of the most soothing and relaxing activities is listening or playing music when you are stressed, anxious or depressed.  There is a style of music to suit any mood.  When I’m ecstatic, I’ll race to the piano and play Boogie Woogie at top speed.  If I’m reflective, I take out Debussy or Chopin.  When I’m angry, Rachmaninoff and Beethoven keep me company.  Those who know me well only need to listen to my music choice to understand how I’m feeling.

After I pour my heart out musically, I’m drained of intense feelings and my spirit always soars.  I encourage my students to play the piano when they are moody, suggesting a piece in a minor key, or when they feel joyous to play Rock-n-Roll loud enough for the neighbors to complain.

Throughout life, we will experience all kinds of emotions, including temporary feelings of depression.  You just need to follow the advice of Dorothy Fields and Jerome Kern: “Pick yourself up, dust yourself off and start all over again.”

Isn't it time that you did?

And when you think about it, “Life is a lot like jazz…it’s best when you improvise.” (George Gershwin.)..."especially with friends." (Heidi Goldman) 

Playing for the Sheer Joy of Making Music

The most frequently asked question people ask me is, “At what age should my child begin music lessons?”

Every teacher will have a different response based on h/her own experiences.  I’m a child specialist and have taught children as young as two and one half. 

Does that seem rather young to begin lessons?

As a parent, you know your children.  Do they need constant activities and stimulation?  Do they get bored easily? Or, can they sit quietly and be engaged in a hobby for ten to thirty minutes?  Do they listen and take instruction, or are they the Tasmanian devil on steroids?  Most kids are ready at age three, but I like to give a few trial lessons to be sure.

Once I began creating teaching tools for the very young, my lessons consisted of a half hour lesson, broken into three-four segments:  learning to read music on The Name Game, my over-sized grand staff, followed by teaching the names of the keys on the piano, reading/playing music and chanting music symbol flash cards that have rhyming verses on the back:  “I’m a little Treble Clef cute as can be…look at your music…I curve around line G.” Teaching music symbols this way is fun and gels the memory.

Flashy Splashy Music Cards ~ PureGold Teaching Tools

Tunes for Tots is a large book of music that I published for children three to five years of age.  Each song is a different color so the child can find the desired piece easily.  Stems are eliminated so the student concentrates solely on sight-reading the note heads and isn't distracted by the attached vertical lines.

Tunes for Tots ~ PureGold Teaching Tools

If time permits, we play Musical Mish-Mosh, an exciting music card game similar to Go Fish. It’s a fun way to end the lesson while the student continues to learn music symbols.

Musical Mish-Mosh ~ PureGold Teaching Tools

When I was growing up, the traditional way to teach students to read Treble Clef line notes was to memorize the following sentence:  Every Good Boy Does Fine.  In the early years of teaching, I adhered to that philosophy.  After all, my teachers taught me that way, so I emulated them, too.  Until one day.

As I sat on the floor with a large felt Grand Staff placed in between me and Sarah, a five-year-old student, I placed large colorful note-heads on each line and as I repeated the above sentence, I reinforced the information by placing a plastic letter “E” on the first line to represent “Every,” a “G” on the second line for 

“Good” and so on.

When I reached the top line of the staff, Sarah looked puzzled.  So I pointed to each note again and repeated, “Every good boy does fine.”

“Well,” she said indignantly, “what about girls?” She tilted her head and wrinkled her nose.

Ah, teaching in the 21^st century.  Who knew I was politically incorrect?

Back to the drawing board.  Not wanting to offend my future musicians-to-be, I changed the sentence to:  Elvis Goes Bopping Down the Freeway, only to get a look of confusion and comment:   “Who’s that?”

I’m sure you’ve heard about the value of learning music.  The benefits are infinite:  children learn self-discipline and time management by practicing an instrument, SAT scores are higher, reading and math skills are significantly improved, and social skills are developed by playing in the band and orchestra as the student interacts musically with others.  The very young learn their alphabet letters and develop eye-hand coordination.

But what about playing for the sheer joy of making music?  Research scientists lose sight of the fact that while playing music has many benefits, it’s also enjoyable.  Relaxing.  Entertaining.  Creative.  Fun. And when children play a duet with the teacher or play with friends and family, a bond is strengthened.

Heidi Goldman and students with The Name Game ~PureGold Teaching Tools

Learning to play an instrument has many physiological and emotional benefits, but why not begin because it’s just fun? Plain and simple. 

Music Rocks Your Mind!

Okay, I admit it.  I’m not your average piano teacher like Mrs. Schraeder who taught me when I was four years old.  She was an old lady with blue-rinsed hair, orthopedic shoes and nylons rolled below her knees.

Like the traditional teacher, I travel to the homes of my students, but that’s where the comparison ends. 

Heidi Goldman heading out to teach

Donned in high-heels and haute couture, I come equipped with visually dynamic teaching tools that help kids learn and giggle.  And now in the age of iPhones and iPods, I bring my iPad, adding another dimension to my individualized lessons. 

Finger Painting App ~ Drawing Music Symbols

When I began teaching, I was unable to find innovative teaching materials in music stores.  My goal was to teach three year old children how to read music.  With felt and scissors, I designed The Name Game, an over-sized grand staff and Voila!  PureGold Teaching Tools, Inc., a boutique publishing house catering to students age three to adult, was born.

Heidi Goldman with The Name Game ~  PureGold Teaching Tools

Determined to inspire my students, I developed unique teaching tools like, Flashy Splashy Music Cards.  

Flashy Splashy Music Cards ~ PureGold Teaching Tools

Imagine trying to teach 36 music symbols to a five-year old. Since each flashcard has a funny rhyming verse on the reverse side:  “Natural sign is a symbol that’s cool…No more sharp or flat, Baby…That’s the rule!” the child is amused and engaged. 

The giggles continue with Italian Terms for the Musically Inclined: “Playing fast is playing presto…like chasing your brother when he’s a pesto!”

Italian Terms for the Musically Inclined! ~ PureGold Teaching Tools

Heidi Goldman

Whenever I’m at a social event, people say two things:  You don’t look like a piano teacher (naturally I leave the orthopedic shoes at home) and I wish my mother didn’t allow me to quit taking lessons.  I remember telling my mother every Saturday morning before my lesson that I was quitting.  She’d nod and say, “Whining you’ll quit!  Piano is forever!”

Today more importance is placed on sports, but whenever my students are injured, they still have the piano to enjoy.  It’s a gift that keeps on giving, and a skill they’ll have the rest of their lives.  The advantages to learning the piano are infinite:

“After learning eighth, quarter, half and whole notes, second and third graders scored 100% higher than their peers who were taught fractions using traditional methods.” (Neurological Research, March 15, 1999)

“U. of California, Irvine found that after six months of piano lessons, preschoolers performed 34% higher on spatial-temporal testing than those who received no training and those who received computer training.” (Neurological Research, February 28, 1997.)

 “College –bound seniors who’d had school music experience scored 52 points higher on the verbal portion of their SATs and 37 points higher in math than those without arts instruction.  (Profiles of SAT and Achievement Test takers, The College Board, 1998)

Just as there is a positive correlation for children who learn an instrument, there are many benefits to studying music as an adult and senior citizen.  In a youth-driven society, baby boomers are continually trying to stay fit.  The media bombards them with wrinkle creams, trying to make them look thirty years younger. 

If I could promise a type of Utopia, where being older has physical benefits, would you investigate?  What if I were to tell you that aside from exercise, eating right and taking vitamins, you can increase your brain’s plasticity by learning an instrument?  Think past triceps and biceps.  Botox and fillers. 

“Musical activity throughout life may serve as a challenging cognitive exercise, making your brain fitter and more capable of accommodating the challenges of aging,” according to researcher Brenda Hanna-Pladdy, PhD, of the University of Kansas Medical Center, in a news release.

Many studies endorse music.  “Playing music reduces stress and has been shown to reverse the body’s response to stress at the DNA-level (Dr. Barry Bittman.) 

“Playing music “significantly lowered the heart rates and calmed and regulated the blood pressures and respiration rates of patients who had undergone surgery." (Bryan Memorial Hospital in Lincoln, NE and St. Mary’s Hospital in Mequon, WI)

And for those of you who have friends or family suffering with Parkinson’s disease or stroke, “Rhythmic cues can help retrain the brain after a stroke or other neurological impairment,” according to Michael Thaurt, director of Colorado State University’s Center of Biomedical Research in Music. 

And interesting to note that “playing music increases human growth hormone (HgH) production among active older Americans…those in the test group who took group keyboard lessons showed significantly higher levels of HgH than the control group of people who did not make music.” (University of Miami)

People always say it’s easier to learn something new as a child.  There is some truth to that theory, but baby boomers and seniors are perfect candidates for learning piano. They are patient, self-disciplined and understand the importance of practicing.

Studying music trains the memory, helps keep the older student focused and gives a sense of accomplishment in place of what once was work related projects.  Playing the piano is a great stress reliever but the best part is that it’s fun.

Retirees embrace learning and look forward to an exciting retirement.  They want to stimulate the brain, stay up-to-date on current trends including technology and because they are retired, they finally have time to nurture their desires.

You’re never too old to learn to play the piano.  Since Grandma Moses began painting in her eighties, there’s time for you to begin a musical journey of a lifetime.

So, when you see:  EVERY GOOD BOY DOES FINE and understand this is one way of reading Treble Clef line notes, you can thank your piano teacher.  But if you’re clueless, maybe it’s time for you and your family to begin lessons and a lifetime of enjoyment.

ISN'T IT TIME THAT YOU DID?

Oktoberfest ~ More Than Just Beer!

I love to travel.  I mean, I love, love, love to travel. One of the greatest perks for a writer is traveling to far away, exotic places to conduct research.

My debut novel races through glamorous cities like Rome, Paris, Vienna and Nice.  The main story begins in Munich, which made me think about having my characters attend Oktoberfest, especially since I’ve always wanted to be part of the festivities, too.

Heidi Goldman in the Englischer Garten

I had the good fortune of being accompanied by Ludwig Webel, one of the managers from the tourism department. 

Ludwig Webel,  Heidi Goldman's gracious host, holding her gift.

He was my new friend, guide and walking Wikipedia about all things involving Oktoberfest and Munich’s history.

Oktoberfest.  The very word conjures up all kinds of fantasies and I, too, let my imagination run wild.  Sure, I could have watched YouTube, but I wanted to experience the festival with fresh, unbiased eyes.  Take in the sights, smells and the wonder of it all.

Over six million people from around the world attend Oktoberfest.  The second week is nicknamed Italian Weekend. Munich is bursting at the seams with Italians.  Riding the U-bahn during Italian weekend can be daunting.  Locals are pushed and shoved in overcrowded subway trains by their bon vivant comrades and other Oktoberfest visitors.

While that is the sentiment of many local Müencheners, whose city is invaded for three weeks every year, the rest of the world looks forward to Italian weekend.  These visitors bring color and warmth to cafés, parks and other public places.  And into the beer tents, they bring exuberance.  Throughout the Marienplatz, Munich’s main square, their love, charisma and engaging conversation spills over to every neighboring district.  They talk to strangers passing by or sitting near them in restaurants.  They don’t notice that no one understands Italian.  It doesn’t matter.  Their language and hand gestures seem universal and somehow everyone understands the gist of their exuberant conversation.

The Italians love people.  They love food.  They celebrate life with a joie de vivre that not many cultures could duplicate.  In the beer gardens, you can hear and see loud discussions, hands moving every which way, continuous laughter, conversations and discussions where all the friends talk simultaneously, debating some subject that appears to be as urgent as life and death.  They talk and eat at once.  Forks wave above and around their heads to make a point between mouthfuls of food.

During Oktoberfest, massive steins are held high during Ein Prosit, the famous beer drinking song, boisterous toasts culminating in loud clinking of their heavy steins filled with chilled, foamy brew, toasting their fellow man and most times new friends at adjoining tables to the left and right.  In a large beer tent, like The Schottenhamel, filled with ten thousand people from all over the globe, people begin as strangers and within minutes make new friends at their own table and surrounding ones.

Heidi Goldman in The Schottenhamel Beer Tent ~ Oktoberfest, Munich, Germany

Food is shared and everyone sings in unison to the songs played by the Bavarian band.  People sway back and forth.  Others dance.  A cacophony of music, animated talking and singing reverberate up to the high pitched roof.  All of that is encouraged by vivacious Italians, who sometimes run around from table to table encouraging everyone to participate.

So, how could you not love them and look forward to their participation year after year?  Too much traffic in the city?  An easy trade off!  Their personalities bring a rainbow of color to Munich, transforming the city into a kaleidoscope of vibrant hue, week two of Oktoberfest.

While the Marienplatz is the major artery of Old Town, the Italians are the very heart beat---the pulse of the city during Oktoberfest visits.

The paparazzi love high society tents, like the Hippodrom 

Heidi Goldman at The Hippodrom Beer Tent

and the Käfer Tent, but you must be a somebody to get in.  The rest of us have other choices and my new friend and guide took me to the Schottenhamel tent where all the young, fun loving nobodies of the world would be partying, getting lost in a sea of Italians, Australians, Canadians, Americans and other Europeans who return every year to attend Oktoberfest.

Women walk around town or are seen on the U-bahn wearing dirndls and the men, lederhosen. 

This is traditional clothing of Bavaria.  Müencheners pride themselves in keeping the tradition alive.  When I saw the men and women dressed traditionally, I assumed they were going to Theresienweise to work in the tents, but soon learned that during the three weeks of Oktoberfest, the locals feel free and comfortable wearing their “tracht.”  It’s their way of showing Bavarian pride.

Escada Dirndl

Every year Escada designs a few special limited edition dirndls for Oktoberfest.  American’s often think of the “Brunhilde” type of woman:  fat, buxom and dowdy, wearing a big dress and apron.  Surprisingly, the clothes are youthful and sexy.  I was amazed when I was shopping and noticed a fuchsia suede, mink trimmed busier, laced with crisscross satin ribbon across the bodice.

Escada bustier

At the entrance of Theresienweise, the fair grounds for Oktoberfest, my eyes widened.  Hundreds of thousands of people were walking around.  Children were screaming on wild amusement park rides with parents looking on.  Colorful flags blew in the wind.  People were eating and drinking at booths, laughing, dancing, and meandering toward the tents.

Heidi Goldman at Munich's Oktoberfest ~ Theresienwiese

My guide gave me two choices:  we could walk ahead through the amusement park, or bi-pass the festival and go directly to The Schottenhamel Tent.  I opted to continue walking with the crowd.  I was dying to see all the rides and booths.

It was already twilight and the flashing neon lights of the fair, bursting with color were enticing people to buy tickets for exhilarating roller coaster and amusement rides. 

There were so many people walking in all directions.  Some were racing to a favorite ride, others to a food stall.  As people tried to make their way to the crowded area in front of the beer tents, there was a kind of unspoken dance among the multitude of visitors: forward, back, sideways, shove: forward, back, sideways, push.

I noticed young ladies wearing heart-shaped cookies around their necks decorated with curly-cue icing that read:  Tolle Frau! (Super Woman!)  The other, Komm in Mein Liebeslaube!  (Come to my love nest!) And the third strawberry blonde darling’s cookie read:  Liebe Mich! (Love me!)  Visible messages inviting men to be their lovers.

Heart-shaped cookies for sale

Young girls and older women in their low-cut blouses and frilly white aprons over knee length dresses had an air of understated sensuality.  So much for Brunhilde!  These women looked sexy.  Certainly not the stereotype portrayed in movies.

Naturally Oktoberfest is fun, but the reason for this annual celebration is in honor of Prince Ludwig, who then became King Ludwig 1, and his marriage to Princess Therese.  Their celebration included a horse race, and over the years the celebration grew and grew to what it is today, in Theresienwiese:  Theresa’s meadow.

Observing the rides, the people and the splendid color of the fair was eye candy.  To the left and right were brightly lit tents with neon signs like:  The Floh Circus (Flea Circus), Wilde Mouse Ride and Geister Schloss (The ghost castle ride.)

Geister Schloss-Ghost castle ride

Continuing along the dirt path was the House of Horrors with Frankenstein and his bride tilted on the awning

Frankenstein's House of Horrors

 and across the way was Auf Geht’s Beim Schiechtl which has a gruesome presentation inside on how to behead a human being using the guillotine. Perfect and gory entertainment for adults and children alike.

My guide pointed to the enormous blow-up Prosceccole Contrese bottle on top of their champagne booth which had a photograph of a bearded man.  He explained that the Prosecco was named after mad man King Ludwig 11, who at the age of eighteen inherited the throne from his grandfather, Ludwig 1, when he abdicated his position to be with, Lola Montez, the woman he loved.

As we made our way down the end of the rides near the enormous brightly colored Ferris wheel, my guide pointed, “Look over there, to the right.  There’s The Schottenhamel Tent!” 

Heidi Goldman at The Schottenhamel Beer Tent

Without waiting for a response, he said, “Follow me and stay close.”

People swarmed the doors, pushing and shoving to get in.  Times Square in Manhattan is crazy, but this was sheer lunacy topped with a certain kind of frenetic energy.  People without reservations were determined to get into the tent one way or another.  My guide grabbed my arm and I squeezed in between the masses of people until we finally reached the side entrance of the tent.  With one more push, like giving birth, arms from out of nowhere grabbed and yanked us into the cavernous tent.  The door slammed behind all the loud, impatient party go-ers, who would continue to wait outside, desperate to get in.

We stumbled forward into the tent and headed for the upstairs balcony that over-looked ten thousand raucous, fun-loving attendees.  The room glowed golden.  Around the circumference of the room were food stalls, offering Bavarian delicacies:  Kasse, Speisen-Ausgabe, Schweinbraten and Hendl.  And on the raised platform in the center were Oktoberfest musicians playing, Hey Baby! While the crowd from non-English speaking countries and English speaking countries, sang the lyrics perfectly.

Unfortunately, I can’t sing on key, so I lip-synced the entire song with gusto.

I looked over the railing in disbelief.  It looked like a Josef von Sternberg production---a visual extravaganza from the high vantage point above the crowd.  Like the movie, The Devil is a Woman, where he used the horror vacui technique, every space on the big screen just like this Oktoberfest tent, was completely filled. 

Ten thousand people were singing in unison and dancing with strangers, who would soon become close companions before night’s end or at least by the next song.

After we were seated in a booth away from the railing, the oom-pah band began to play, YMCA.  All the Europeans, Australians, Canadians, South Americans suddenly stood up at their seat, in the aisle and on the tables, singing the lyrics and doing the arm gestures to the noted song.  I was shocked to hear American music in a German beer tent.

By the end of the song, a roar of applause filled the tent drowning out the beginning of New York, New York, the next selection.  All that was missing was Frank Sinatra!  The waitress came by with large pretzels. I had to have one and then we ordered two beers, rotisserie chicken and boiled potatoes.

Heidi Goldman holding Bavarian Pretzel

The tent was a vision.  Enormous green leafy wreaths trimmed with small light bulbs hung low from the ceiling, giving a warm amber glow to the cavernous room.   People from all over the world meandered through the aisles singing, swaying, and dancing with strangers.

Waitresses carrying six enormous beer steins in each hand walked carefully through crowds of people delivering the choice beverage of Bavaria to happy patrons.

Suddenly the Bavarian band played Ein Prosit.  The crowd roared.  I looked at my guide, confused.  He whispered loudly, “It’s mandatory for us to drink when you hear that song!”

“Far be it from me to break the rules!” I said, taking a gulp of the cold brew.

Heidi Goldman with Ludwig Webel, her gracious host

“When you hear this song, and you will all night long, everyone at the table toasts each other and then we take a large sip of beer.”

The booth to our right was filled with ten boisterous Italian men who flirted with me incessantly. 

Heidi Goldman's new Italian friends at Oktoberfest in Munich

They leaned into our booth and initiated toasts with me and the others at the table.  One of them handed me a tooth pick with a piece of cheese and salami.  How could you not love a guy who feeds you?

Two playful Italians put on eye glasses trimmed with blinking lights and swayed in each other’s arms to the music.  The most handsome man passed his pair to me and encouraged me to dance. 

Heidi Goldman dancing with fun glasses in Schottenhamel Tent ~ Oktoberfest

Having had a couple of beers, I stood up, arms swaying above my head and shook my body to the rhythm of Mick Jagger’s,  I Can’t Get No Satisfaction. 

The Italians continued talking simultaneously, arms gesturing wildly as the roar of the crowd ebbed and flowed with the music. 

The timbre rose to a feverish pitch.

At the end of the evening, the fairground was even more beautiful with bright lights lining the beer tents.

If it wasn’t for the photos and videos, I’d never believe I really attended Oktoberfest.  Who knew I’d have so much fun conducting research for my novel, but I’d also get a lesson in history, beer, and a little bit of Italy while attending Oktoberfest in Munich, Germany.

Heidi Goldman ~ "Auf Wiedersehen!"