Prost!

Oktoberfest Brings Germany to Scotland

I am a firm believer that not much in life can beat a sunny German beer garden. A day spent with a close friend in Munich last year saw us demolishing comically large beers and pretzels to the sound of a brass band and amid hundreds of other happy punters. For this reason, the prospect of bringing this back to Scotland seemed a weird and wonderful fantasy come true in the form of the St Andrews Oktoberfest.

The yearly event has become a staple of the St Andrews events calendar, not to mention a highly competitive one — tickets are obtained via a complicated system of table ballots, not only with St Andrews students but internationals too. Yes, people fly in for this. However, in the grand roster of events at this University, Oktoberfest is one that anyone with the moolah to travel to this, otherwise irrelevant, small Scottish town should attend. 

Part of the reason that Oktoberfest is so well-loved is perhaps its authenticity. As a result of a committee filled with Germans and Austrians, elements like Paulaner beer imported directly from Germany and even a band, Wolfsegger, brought over, mean it’s not a fetishisation of German culture but as close to the real thing as possible. Even the night before Oktoberfest itself, numerous German voices could be heard across the three streets. 

In advance of the event, I was invited to the TCCL Lodge, a charity which Oktoberfest has supported since 2011. The Lodge provides holidays in St Andrews free of charge to families with children diagnosed with cancer or leukaemia. There we were met by John Walker, the TCCL Treasurer, who explained the mission of the charity and the role Oktoberfest plays within it. A member of five charity committees and with forty years experience with the Cadets, Walker has dedicated his retirement to helping local communities.

In an unassuming but very well kept house close to Canongate, TCCL have created a holiday home for children with cancer and their families to enjoy St Andrews, totally free of charge. The Lodge is located under an hour from Ninewells, should anything happen while guests are visiting, and sleeps up to eight people. Walker noted that a large number of single parents also come with their children, and the Lodge can provide a well-needed break. Children can enjoy a climbing frame, gaming consoles, and a large garden within the house itself, but the charity is also aided by the generosity of local businesses. Ranging from Jannetta’s to the Aquarium to the Botanic Gardens and more, free passes are available for almost any activity within St Andrews. It’s not just the Lodge which Walker and the team are responsible for — they also finance important items from computers for children with learning disabilities to hospital stethoscopes shaped like orangutans. Essentially, the charity provides families with the opportunity to enjoy all that St Andrews has to offer, only required to pay the cost of travel, but with the security of a hospital nearby.

A month after the visit, I found myself a world away amidst the revelry of Kinkell Byre, ready to take on Oktoberfest. A St Andrews staple, it had been elaborately transformed to resemble a German beer hall: think long tables, endless rows of lights and ribbons, and beer stations galore. I was like a kid in Disneyland marvelling at every Epcot novelty. On stage, band Wolfsegger entertained for much of the day, encouraging attendees to raise their glasses and sing along in tentative German. Enthralled by the entertainment, endless dirndl-clad attendees swarmed the dance floor, such that it was difficult to move. I’m sure I’m not the only one who thinks guys should rock Lederhosen more often. The women’s various dirndls were also a spectacle in diverse colours and patterns. You can’t help but suspect Amazon must make an absolute fortune selling these cheapo versions. Unusually, virtually everyone adhered to the dress code, creating the illusion that one really was someplace in Southern Germany. The caveat to this was that amidst a sea of Bavarian clones all wearing the same, friends were indistinguishable and thus impossible to find.

Although there were a variety of drinks on sale, one reigned supreme: the mighty — and dangerous — Paulaner Stein. For the Germanically uninformed, this is a tankard of beer equivalent to two pints, so heavy that it’s almost impossible to lift; I had to resort to cradling mine like a baby. German beer is also stronger than beer here — remember England fans being warned this at the 2024 Euros? For a town where strong beers like Chouffe are only served by the half pint, it’s a wonder that this was permitted, but perhaps it forms much of the event’s appeal. Not only this, but a Stein was also cheaper than many St Andrews pints, sitting at only £6. You can imagine the results of this combination of cost- and intoxication-effectiveness, namely scrapping on the dancefloor including guests squaring up to security, some pretty passionate making out, and You’ve Been Framed-worthy falling and staggering. 

Other excitements included a tower ride that dropped participants from a height, which had a pretty hefty queue to boot, as well as a variety of food trucks from the inevitable Saints Sizzle to more traditional German fare in the form of bratwurst. This was also next to the smoking area, which on account of my extremely flammable tacky lederhosen, generated some heart palpitations.

Yes, the endless Steins did cause a certain level of chaos, and the swarm of guests could at times be a little overwhelming. However, Oktoberfest excelled in being so meticulously stylised, not cutting any corners on authenticity from music to beer and beyond. Plus, it’s all in support of a fantastic local charity, which you can imagine deservedly receives a pretty substantial wad of money each year from the event. If you can solve the mysterious puzzle of obtaining a table, it’s certainly worth attending — but good luck remembering any of it the next morning.

Photos by Olga Alonso Blanco