A bit of Bavaria

One year, a 32-piece brass marching band from Germany played in the streets of tiny Tatamagouche. Another year, an accordion player serenaded partygoers table to table. And last year, when a regular performer didn't show up, organizers presumed he must have passed away. "Only death keeps them from coming to Oktoberfest," says co-founder Claire Mueller with a wry grin.

For the past 27 years in rural Tatamagouche on Nova Scotia's North Shore, the last weekend of September has been synonymous with Oktoberfest (www.nsoktoberfest.ca). Locals anticipate it all year long, tourists plan vacations around it, and more than 3,000 men, women, and children pass through the doors of the North Shore Recreation Centre into a recreated Bavarian dance hall, eager to dance and sample German beer, sausage, and sauerkraut.

Oktoberfest in Tatamagouche

Top musical talent is always on tap, and goodwill flows freely. "When you walk into the arena, it's not an arena anymore," says Mueller. "You are immediately transported to Munich. From the smells to the music to the sights, it's electric." Mueller is French Canadian from Grande Rivier on the Gaspé Peninsula, but her husband, Dieter, hails from Bamberg in Bavaria. "Sometimes I think I'm more Bavarian than he is," she says, laughing. In fact, Mueller, a champion hog grower, launched the festival in 1980 after being challenged by her hog-feed salesman. He used to come by every other week with feed for Mueller's purebred hogs, and he became friends with the couple. One day he invited the Muellers to an Oktoberfest in Debert, N.S. When the Muellers arrived, they were horrified to find canned sauerkraut and Scottish music masquerading as the famous Bavarian festival. "I remember saying, 'That's not an Oktoberfest,' " she recalls. The salesman quipped that if she was so unimpressed, then she should organize a proper Oktoberfest in Tatamagouche.

That's exactly what the Muellers did. At the time, the pair also ran The Pork Shop in Tatamagouche (they retired in 1998), and many of their customers were German. They posted a sign promoting Oktoberfest events on the meat shop's wall—the only advertising they did—and 85 people showed up. By the third year, attendance had soared to 365, and the following year it was too big for them to handle on their own. The solution In 1983 they joined George and Enis Vogel and Julius Zarand to form the North Shore Bavarian Society. Today 50 volunteers are required to put on Canada's second-largest Oktoberfest (the biggest one takes place in Kitchener-Waterloo, Ont.).

The first Oktoberfest began with a Royal Bavarian wedding in 1810, when Crown Prince Ludwig I decided to commemorate his marriage to Princess Therese of Saxony. Held in Munich, the merry-making events featured a horse race, beer, food, music, and dancing. It was so popular that anniversary celebrations continued each year. Oktoberfests have been held in Munich for nearly 200 years.

The secret to Oktoberfest's success is that its organizers don't treat it as simply a moneymaking event. "We wanted to give people the feeling of being in Germany for one night," says Mueller. The economic spin-off from the festival is broad. Businesses report increased sales, accommodations are booked to capacity, and local causes reap the financial rewards. For example, each year the Bavarian Society donates funds to community projects and school bursaries. "Oktoberfest is a great tradition that extends the tourism season," says Joyce Mingo, the executive director of Central Nova Tourist Association. "It's an event that the community talks about year round."

— Shelley Cameron-McCarron

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