IF THERE IS A MOTHERLAND for American beer drinkers, it is Ireland.

True, our brewing heritage might reach back to Germany or England, and we seem to have a soft spot for Belgium. But our drinking chops come straight from Dublin, and if you don’t believe me, get off your butt today on St. Patrick’s Day, the national holiday of beer lovers, and go dancing with the leprechauns.

Black stout in a pint glass and the Pogues on the jukebox – the Irish pub is our church, and a pilgrimage to the Emerald Isle is a rite of passage.

Funny thing, though, until recently, American craft beer fans heading to Galway or Killarney or Belfast were surely disappointed with the slim pickings. Yes, there was plenty of fresh, perfectly poured Guinness stout to be had, but you could get that back home. Otherwise, it was the same old, same old: Heineken, Carling, Coors, bleh.

“Every pub had the same three products, and, for generations, that’s the way it was,” Seamus O’Hara, who cofounded Carlow Brewing in the southeast of Ireland with his brother Eamonn in 1996, told me in a phone conversation this month.

As little as 10 years ago, there were only about a dozen breweries in Ireland, most of them owned by the big guys.

But things have improved quickly, thanks mostly to new tax laws that benefit small brewers. Today, Ireland boasts more than 75 independent breweries, and O’Hara is widely seen as their pioneer.

“It has become quite a vibrant craft beer scene,” said O’Hara, who was recently appointed chair of the Irish Brewers Association. “I can see it bringing all kinds of energy and excitement to consumers. “

You don’t have to take his word for it. In October, I’m leading Joe Sixpack’s Irish Beer & Whiskey Tour, a 10-day crawl to some of the country’s small breweries and distilleries. Join me as we visit Dublin, Galway, Killarney, the Dingle Peninsula, and elsewhere to explore the sights and share a few pints.

Yes, we’ll stop in at Guinness – how can we not? Mostly, though, we’ll focus on small breweries and family-owned distilleries. Places like:

Galway Bay Brewery, whose Oslo Bar is one of Europe’s great craft beer destinations.

West Kerry Brewery, a real ale brewery where the locals speak the traditional Irish language.

Franciscan Well Brewery in Cork, where the Summer Saison was recently judged the world’s best pale ale.

Teeling, the only distillery in Dublin, now making award-winning Irish whiskey.

We’ll treat ourselves to plenty of Irish stout, porter, and red ale. But like much of the world these days, small brewers are taking their cues from adventurous American brewers. These days, Irish taps are pouring everything from Belgian-style abbey ales to West Coast double IPAs.

Even Carlow, which got its start by reviving traditional Irish styles that had been dumbed down by big producers, is now producing barrel-aged ales and single-hop India pale ales.

“People want hoppier beer, more interesting flavors,” O’Hara said.

That’s a big change from the days when an Irish pub merely had to open its doors and crank up the fiddles. The recession, a smoking ban, and real estate pressures have cut into the bar trade, he said, forcing pubs to “put beer on the agenda. “

In some ways, it sounds like the American craft beer scene circa 1998. In other words: the early exciting days of a movement.

Want to learn more? I’m taking over the second floor of McGillin’s Old Ale House (1310 Drury St., Center City) Wednesday at 6 p.m., to share more details and some great O’Hara’s ale, including the brewery’s new collaboration brew (yes, that’s now a thing in Ireland) with Virginia’s Starr Hill Brewery. Tix are 10 bucks, via my website or at the door.

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LAST WEEK’S column focused on beer travel overseas. Of course, you don’t have to go that far this summer. Right here in the good ol’ U S of A, there are plenty of beer-centric travel destinations. Indeed, regional tourism agencies have set up easy-to-follow travel guides from New England to Southern California.

These ale trails are more than just your usual beer-soaked pub crawl. They’re an opportunity to see America and meet the people behind the nation’s still growing small brewery scene.

Grab your cooler (you’re going to be collecting lots of sudsy souvenirs) and plan your 2015 summertime brew-cation. Here’s a selection of destinations within a day’s drive of Philadelphia.

Susquehanna Ale Trail

Gunpowder Falls . . . Black Cap . . . Bube’s . . . Liquid Hero . . . Miscreation . . . Mudhook . . . These breweries and more are fewer than 90 minutes from Philly, yet I’d wager most of you have never heard of them.

Centered on York, this trail seems ideal for a bed-and-breakfast weekend. Throw in a factory tour of Harley-Davidson or Utz potato chips and you’ve got a fun, family-friendly getaway.

Tip: Time your trip for the BrewFest at Mount Hope Winery on May 9, when dozens of Pennsylvania breweries pour their best.

Delaware Wine & Spirits Trail

The first state, boasts only about a dozen breweries, but two of them should be on every beer-lover’s bucket list:

Dogfish Head Craft Brewery in Milton is ground zero for the modern experimental ales that have expanded American palates. Check out its historical ales like Midas Touch and unusual gadgets like Randall the Enamel Animal organoleptic hop transducer module.

Twin Lakes in Greenville is a small, rustic brewery in the midst of the gorgeous, rolling Brandywine Valley farmlands where George Washington fought the Revolution.

Tip: Download Visit Delaware’s passport and visit eight breweries to receive a keepsake gift.

Finger Lakes Beer Trail

It’s true that upstate New York is better known as wine territory. But in recent years, the Finger Lakes have become the epicenter of New York’s craft-beer explosion. This trail, one of the best in America, offers suggested one- or two-day itineraries with hotel package deals and guided tours.

Try the loop around Seneca Lake, with visits to 14 breweries, including War Horse, Two Goats and Birdland, and an overnight stay at the new Grist Iron Brewery and Inn.

Tip: The Bon Ton Roulet is a weeklong cycling tour of the lakes, July 18 through July 25.

CT Beer Trail

This trail was established by local beer lovers aiming to promote Connecticut’s breweries, most of which do not send their beer out of state. Maybe you’re already familiar with Two Roads and Thomas Hooker. But a trip to the Nutmeg State will give you a chance to try Gandhi-Bot, the double IPA from New England Brewing that is about to be renamed because of protests from India.

Tip: Join the Trail Blazers Club for discounts and contests.

Brew Ridge Trail

The Blue Ridge Parkway runs more than 400 miles through Virginia and North Carolina, one of America’s great scenic roadways. Make a pit stop near Charlottesville, Va., for a small but excellent selection of breweries.

Among them: Devil’s Backbone, the lager brewer that was named mid-size brewery of the year at the 2014 Great American Beer Festival.

Tip: Fill your gas tank and your growler at the Charlottesville Mobil Growler Station Express.

Do it yourself

Want to create your own beer trail? Wondering which breweries are in the vicinity of your next out-of-town trip?

Check out the Road Trip tool at Brewerymap.com. Just plug in your route and it quickly maps the location of breweries along the way. I plotted a trip from Philly to Pittsburgh and discovered no fewer than 50 breweries within five miles of the Pennsylvania Turnpike. brewerymap.com

Other trails

Lehigh Valley Ale Trail, including Weyerbacher, Funk, Fegley’s, Saucony Creek and more. lehighvalleyaletrail.com

Hershey Harrisburg Craft Beer Country, with 10 breweries, including Snitz Creek, Millbock, Pizza Boy and Troegs. hersheyharrisburgbeer.com

Central PA Tasting Trail, with 11 beer, wine and spirits destinations around State College. centralpatastingtrail.com

Hudson Valley Beer Trail includes about 10 New York breweries and a hops farm. hudsonvalleybeertrail.com

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THIS IS my year for beer travel, with group tours planned to Germany, the Czech Republic, Hungary and Austria, as well as several Eastern U.S. destinations. I got things started earlier this month by leading about 150 beer lovers on a very cool river cruise to the Netherlands and Belgium.

Eight breweries, two lectures, a beer dinner and many onboard bottle-shares later, and I’m left with exactly what I look for in travel: a sense of surprise.

Here are a few discoveries that caught me off guard.

Not all Heineken is skunky: A visit to the Heineken Experience, a “please-touch” beer museum in Amsterdam, was mostly a waste of time that focused more on the company’s slick advertising than its beer.

The tour wrapped up with a tasting in which we were told that most of beer’s bitter flavor is in its foam (nonsense). Nonetheless, the samples of freshly made Heinie were excellent – a pleasant departure from the usual off-putting, metallic flavor of those imported green bottles.

There’s more to Holland than Heineken: La Trappe Blond, a light-bodied, deceptively strong golden ale from the Netherlands’ famous Trappist brewery, was my fallback beer for 10 days, and I was never disappointed.

De Molen, on the outskirts of Amsterdam, makes about 1,000 varieties, it seems, and they’re all very good, especially strong Rasputin imperial stout and quirky, sweet-tart Braggot Brett.

Maybe you’re already familiar with both breweries, which distribute to Philly. Here’s what you’ll need your passport for:

Pampus Bombard, an unusual, smoky barleywine with a touch of cherry from one of the Netherlands’ up-and-coming small brewers.

Jopen Northsea IPA, proof that the Dutch have caught the American hops bug. I enjoyed a glass at Arendsnest (The Eagle’s Nest), an Amsterdam pub with tremendously beer-savvy bartenders.

De Hemel Grand Cru, a strong, dark ale I would’ve saved for my cellar if I hadn’t cracked it open during one late-night bottle-share along the Scheldt River.

‘T IJ Zatte, a superb Belgian-style tripel served on draft at the brewery’s busy, windmill pub.

Oersoep God Is Goed, a tart red ale drained quickly at the Stoom warehouse brewpub before we raced back to our departing boat on the Netherlands’ Waal River in Nijmegen.

Kulminator WTF? This Antwerp cafe is fabled as the greatest bar in the world, and I agreed after my last visit 15 years ago. The big surprise: Kulminator ain’t what it used to be.

Yes, the beer list – stocked with hundreds of unusual bottles – is awesome, with cellared bottles that go back 10 or 15 years. It’s a mecca for beer lovers.

But when I go to a bar, I want more than a list of great beer. I want to actually drink it.

I ordered a 5-year-old Struise Pannepot spiced quadrupel, and then waited. Twenty minutes . . . 30 minutes . . . an hour. It never showed.

When I asked about its whereabouts, there was no explanation. I tried to order a different beer, no luck. The same happened to others at my table.

The service wasn’t the only thing lacking attention. Tables were covered with boxes and debris, stacks of empty cases blocked doorways and there was a general crustiness throughout.

This was not quaint, unhurried European atmosphere. This was shameful neglect.

Sorry if this sounds like a cranky Yelp review, but Kulminator has slipped. Thankfully, Antwerp has other beer-centric options, including Cafe de Rooden Hood (Red Hat), where the menu offers artful beer recommendations for every dish. (Cognac-soaked mussels and De Koninck Triple D’Anvers, yum! )

Westy is back: The renowned, hard-to-find Westvleteren 12 is famously available only to those willing to wait in line at the monastery where it is brewed. Distribution in Europe and America had been so limited that, when the abbey released a one-time supply of sixpacks in 2012 to fill a budget gap, hundreds lined up at retail shops to shell out 85 bucks a pop.

But on this visit, I found surprisingly plentiful supplies of the iconic, unlabeled, gold-capped bottles throughout Amsterdam and Brussels. Several of my tour mates brought bottles home as treasured souvenirs.

I enjoyed a glass at the first bar we hit, Cafe Golem, a wonderful dive-like beer heaven in Amsterdam where the bartender told me they hire someone to pick up a single case each week at the monastery.

I’d go back for another round, only I’ve set my sights on more surprises at my next great beer destination. You’re welcome to join me in December, when I’ll lead a river cruise to breweries, beer cafes and Christmas markets along the Danube.

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WHEN THE SUN is swallowed all day by gray skies and gloom, when the streets turn black with week-old slush, when even double IPAs taste like rock salt, a Philadelphian can’t help but think about getting out of town. Here are 10 beer-soaked destinations to consider:

1. Lititz, Pa. This quaint Lancaster County town boasts three brewpubs, including JoBoy’s, where southern barbecue is also on the menu. After a stop at the Sturgis Pretzel House, grab a bite and a brew at Bulls Head Public House, along the shop-filled main drag. The nearby Wolf Sanctuary of PA is a fun visit with kids.

2. The Poconos. Skytop Lodge hosts a Winter Beer Festival on Saturday. Just down the mountain near Lake Wallenpaupack, The Lodge at Woodloch offers a $250 beer-soaking body exfoliation inspired by Dogfish Head Midas Touch.

3. Bloomsburg, Pa. The Inn at Turkey Hill, in north-central Pennsylvania, is a high-end bed-and-breakfast with its own brewery. Book for as low as $119 a night through TravelZoo.com and get two welcome pints of beer.

4. Brooklyn. It’s just as cold and grimy as Philly, but a change of scenery is good for the soul. Hop on Amtrak to Penn Station, connect with the 2 train to Brooklyn, and you can be enjoying a draft Sixpoint Hi-Res at Williamsburg’s Spuyten Duyvil in less than two hours.

Grab a table at Dirck the Norseman, an industrial-size beer hall with stained glass and church pews, and Greenpoint Beer & Ale on tap. And don’t miss newly released K Is For Kriek barrel-aged honey-and-cherry ale in the Brooklyn Brewery tasting room.

5. Cleveland. Named America’s No. 1 beer city by Conde Nast Traveler, the town is home to several small-batch startups, including Platform, an incubator for wannabe professionals. Don’t miss Market Garden Brewery, led by Dogfish Head alum Andy Tveekrem.

6. Chicago. Lagunitas Brewing of California has an outpost in the Windy City, but for an authentic taste of the Midwest you’ll want to visit Argus Brewery, housed in a former brewery stable. Look for some of the Second City’s many barrel-aged beers at Local Option, Haymarket Pub and Brewery, and Goose Island.

7. Finger Lakes, N.Y. Last year I told you about the great state of Iowa as a beer-and-cycling destination. This July, I’m pedaling around Seneca Lake as part of the annual Bon Ton Roulet tour, which will take me past the likes of Keuka, Two Goats, Naked Dove and 20 other upstate New York breweries. Details at Bontonroulet.com.

8. Tampa, Fla. Make it a baseball and beer trip during spring training, with visits to one of the Bay Area’s 20 or so breweries. Coppertail in the touristy Ybor City section is getting lots of attention, with ex-Flying Fish brewmaster Casey Hughes at the controls.

Rapp Brewing, in Seminole, and 7venth Sun, in Dunedin, are highly recommended stops.

9. Vilnius, Lithuania. If you’ve read my reports as “beer ambassador” to this Baltic country, or saw the recent visit by the Travel Channel’s “Booze Traveler,” you know Lithuania is a unique, largely undiscovered destination for beer lovers. While unusual country ales served in quiet Old World cafes are the highlight, some of the finest, including Dundulis, will pour at the Zmogsala Exotic Beer & Ales Festival, on Feb. 28.

10. Nuremberg, Germany. In 1303, the local city council enacted the first German beer-purity law, declaring that only barley malt be used for brewing. With that, Bavaria’s unequaled tradition of beer-making perfection was launched. I’ll lead an expedition to the city in December as part of Joe Sixpack’s Christmas Market river cruise on the Danube. Details at goastrotravel.com.

For more beer travel ideas, head to the Inquirer Travel Show, Feb. 21 and 22, at Valley Forge Casino Resort. I’ll be talking about beer destinations and more.

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TO THE roll call of venerable U.S. foreign diplomats, we can now add this signature name: Joe Sixpack, beer emissary.

I’ve just returned from my first mission on behalf of the U.S. State Department, a beer-soaked education and cultural exchange tour of Lithuania.

I’m happy to report that I did not ignite any international incidents.

In fact, judging from my reception throughout the Baltic countryside, I may have a future as a diplomat, spreading world peace one beer at a time:

¶In Vilnius, the capital, members of the local chapter of the Chaîne des Rôtisseurs, the worldwide gastronomic society, agreed that the Philly beers served with a gourmet menu were at least as good as wine. So good, in fact, it took them just three hours to nearly polish off a supply of Yards and Weyerbacher that was supposed to last a full week.

¶At a beer festival in Pakruojis, a small town not far from the Latvian border, I was introduced to the mayor as Donas Russellas, and the organizers let me help tap the first keg.

¶In a taping of a popular Lithuanian cooking show, Virtuves Mitu Griovejai (rough translation: “Kitchen Myths”), I gobbled down an excellent Asian-spiced salmon dish that the hosts had simmered in Yards George Washington’s Tavern Porter.

¶At the U.S. Embassy in Vilnius, I briefed Lithuanian journalists and bloggers on the growing American microbrewery scene. Then I presented the deputy chief of mission with a Philly Beer Week T-shirt, which he promptly wore at the Pakruojis festival, where we greeted more than 4,000 attendees.

¶At a farmhouse brewery in Joniškelis, an agricultural village 175 kilometers north of Vilnius, I was smothered in kisses by a brewer’s wife (or cousin or fiancée – it was kind of lost in translation). Apparently Virtuves Mitu Griovejai is her favorite TV show.

John Kerry, eat your heart out.

Yeah, I know what you’re thinking: How the heck did Joe Sixpack get invited on a State Department expedition?

Credit goes to Krista Bard, the honorary Lithuanian consul in Philadelphia. She’s the key organizer behind this November’s appearance of two dozen Lithuanian artists at the annual Philadelphia Museum of Art Craft Show. As part of the program, I was asked to present a tasting of local and Lithuanian beers.

Only problem: I knew next to nothing about Lithuanian beer. Hell, it took me 10 minutes to find the place in Google Maps.

Bard stepped in, and in just a few weeks, coordinated my visit – including the rather complex set of hoops we had to jump through to meet local alcohol rules and ship American beer to foreign soil.

Yards donated a bunch of its Ales of the Revolution, and Weyerbacher provided ample cases of its “Big Beer” series. The selections were not casual; I chose the likes of Poor Richard’s Tavern Spruce Ale and Weyerbacher Double Simcoe IPA as unique brands that show off the range, diversity and excellence of American craft beer.

The Brewers Association, looking to expand exports, sent me packing with handouts on beer and food appreciation. Vidmantas Laurinavicius, a former business journalist who left full-time work at a newspaper to promote his country’s beer scene (sound familiar?), introduced me to brewers across the country.

And the staff of the U.S. Embassy in Vilnius, which underwrote the cost of the visit with a federal grant, set a daily agenda of visits and appearances.

Yeah, I know what you’re thinking: Tax dollars for a beer expedition?

To which I reply: It’s about time!

Beer is the ideal medium for U.S. diplomacy. With beer, we can share our creativity, our technology, our commerce, our independence. With beer, America can connect with foreign populations and make new friends worldwide.

Call it “hearts and livers.”

Best of all, it’s a two-way street.

In a week of travel, I learned that there’s much to appreciate about Lithuania and its beer.

About kaimiškas alus, a unique, age-old, sublimely malty “country beer,” and keptinis, in which a portion of the mash is baked like bread, then returned to the boiling wort.

About lard-fried black bread scraped with garlic cloves. (Forget your french fries, your salted peanuts, your chicken wings – this is the finest beer snack I’ve ever encountered.)

About the proper way to toast: I sveikata. It means “to your health.”

Most importantly, I learned how a small nation emerges from decades of communist rule to find its own way in the world. Believe me, a big part of the transition toward self-reliance includes pride in one’s local beer.

I’ll be writing more about Lithuanian beer as the Museum of Art Craft Show nears. In the meantime, I’m left with the memory of hugs and kisses from an enthusiastic Lithuanian woman and the flavor of her country’s beer.

All in the name of diplomacy.

Just call me U.S. Ambassador Sixpack.

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GOT A BEER mule in the family?

You know, someone traveling out of town this summer who’s willing to lug back a few bottles?

Then, I have a list for you. These are the gems you can’t buy in the Philadelphia area – top-rated brews that you might’ve read about but never tasted because they’re simply not shipped our way.

Unless, of course, you have your own mule. Where’s yours headed this summer?

Northwest

The no-brainer from this region is Alaskan Smoked Porter, the rich, smoky dark beer from Juneau that makes its way as far as Texas, and no farther east. If your mule is headed that way, tell him to dump his underwear and fill up that suitcase with as many bottles as possible.

What else? Midnight Sun Berserker Imperial Stout (Alaska), Anchorage Bitter Monk (Alaska), Laurelwood Organic Portland Roast Espresso Stout (Oregon), Upright Brewing No. 7 (Oregon), LaConner Olde Curmudgeon (Washington) and Big Sky Bobo’s Robust Porter (Montana).

Also, the Northwest boasts lots of mead (honey wine): Grab a bottle or two from Celestial Meads.

Rust Belt

Indiana’s Three Floyds sent nearly its entire portfolio to Philly till a few years ago, when it got so popular back home that it was forced to pull out of our market. Many of us would love another taste of Dreadnaught Imperial IPA, Robert the Bruce Scottish Ale or Gumballhead wheat ale.

New Glarus Belgian Red, meanwhile, is a Holy Grail brew because it’s not sold outside the Badger State. Not a fruit fan? Thumbprint IIPA, a strong double India pale ale, is the one you want.

What else? Tyranena Rocky’s Revenge Bourbon Brown (Wisconsin), Ale Asylum Bedlam (Wisconsin), Sun King Osiris Pale Ale (Indiana), Pipeworks Citra Ninja Imperial IPA (Illinois) and Revolution Very Mad Cow (Illinois).

The South

It’s slim pickings south of the Mason-Dixon, partly because the best names (Cigar City, Terrapin, Jester King, Duck-Rabbit) are already in Philly, and partly because, well, they’re not exactly swimming in suds down in the Bible Belt.

Asheville, N.C., boasts a growing beer scene where many of Dixie’s best can be found, including the Tar Heel State’s French Broad Rye Hopper, Ninja Porter, Foothills Baltic Porter and Olde Hickory Death by Hops.

What else? Good People American Brown Ale (Alabama) and Lazy Magnolia Southern Pecan (Mississippi).

The West

I’m having a hard time thinking of anything we don’t get from California. Russian River, Port, Firestone Walker, Sierra Nevada, The Bruery, Bear Republic, North Coast, Lost Coast, Anderson Valley and nearly all the IPAs from San Diego are already here and in full supply.

There’s a bit of buzz around the pricey “Farm to Barrel Series” oak-aged beers from San Francisco’s Almanac Beer Co.; Farmer’s Reserve No. 3 is made with strawberries and nectarines.

Colorado has almost as many breweries as California, but everybody who heads to the Rockies comes back yakking about New Belgium Fat Tire Amber Ale and not much else. Nice enough beer, but it’s available just down I-95 in Maryland (and Delaware in August).

Instead, send your mule in search of anything from Odell Brewing, in Fort Collins, especially its barrel-aged Woodcut Series.

What else? Four Peaks Sunbru Kölsch-Style Ale (Arizona), Santa Fe Chicken Killer Barley Wine (New Mexico), Marble Red Ale (New Mexico) and Epic Big Bad Baptist (Utah).

New England

While Vermont has more breweries per capita than any other state, it’s known mainly for the Magic Hat, Long Trail and Otter Creek breweries.

But there’s much more, so supply your mule with a U-Haul and don’t let him back home unless he’s carrying Hill Farmstead Abner Double IPA and Everett Porter, the Alchemist Heady Topper and anything – absolutely anything – from Lawson’s Finest Liquids.

What else? Anything from Cambridge Brewing (Massachusetts), Jack’s Abby Hoponius Union (Massachusetts), Throwback Hog Happy Hefeweizen (New Hampshire) and Grey Sail Stargazer Imperial Stout (Rhode Island).

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MUNICH’S OKTOBERFEST is either mankind’s lowest form of depravity, or its highest.

I’m just back from a few nights in the festival’s famed brewery tents – during which I enjoyed everything from too many liters of lager to the cacophony of a Bavarian folk band’s version of the White Stripes’ “Seven Nation Army” – and I can’t decide.

I’m going to describe the scene, but with one stipulation. Oktoberfest cannot be described. It is too big, too loud, too awful, too wonderful for words.

This was the 200th anniversary of its inception. It all began as a royal wedding celebration, and it has grown into the largest annual event of any kind in the world. In the space of 17 days in September and October, more than 6 million people flock to a 103-acre expanse of asphalt and compacted dirt that Bavarians still perversely call the “Wiesn,” or “meadow. “

There are roller coasters and Ferris wheels and roasted chicken and chocolate-covered grapes. There are beautiful girls in shape-enhancing dirndls and hairy men in horribly revealing lederhosen. There is hugging and singing and clapping and weaving and dancing and crying.

Most of all, there is beer – raised in toasts, spilled to the floor, guzzled in delight.

All of it comes from Munich’s six breweries: Lowenbrau, Hacker-Pschorr, Hofbrau, Augustiner, Spaten and Paulaner (who, I should disclose, hosted me for the festival). The mayor of Munich taps the first keg in a quaint, time-honored ceremony, but for the most part that’s the last barrel you’ll see.

Instead, much of the beer is delivered to the festival grounds in 7,000-gallon tanker trucks, then transferred to a maze of beer lines that stretch for hundreds of feet. Then it’s poured into tens of thousands of heavy one-liter glass mugs called mass krugen. Up to 7 million of them would be drained this year.

The action is inside the tents – lavishly decorated buildings erected temporarily with massive wooden beams and joists. In the evenings, you need a reservation for a seat, but still hundreds outside push and shove for an open spot.

The largest can hold 10,000 people – about the size of college basketball arena. That’s 10,000 people all consuming inordinate amounts of liquid and large plates of wurst. Let’s just say it’s a good thing the bathrooms are the product of Germany’s legendary technical superiority.

The noise is a welter of discord till the music starts. Then it’s a welter of wedding reception standards, Bavarian drinking songs and John Denver’s “Take Me Home, Country Roads. ” One of the most popular is “Ein Prosit Der Gemütlichkeit,” which is roughly translated as “A toast to getting toasted. “

Outside, the sound is of carnival music and broken glass shards being kicked across the asphalt. Lights flash above a hundred food kiosks. It is impossible to walk more than 50 feet without hitting gridlock, usually because some semi-comatose kid (the drinking age is 16) is blocking the walkway, his head slumped to his knees. Medics will be along shortly to clean up the mess.

In the age of M.A.D.D., many Americans would rightly recoil at the excess. Yet it is a shame that it could never happen here; we could use a break from all the serious stuff that’s going around.

I asked Paulaner brewmaster Christian Dahncke if there was any opposition to Oktoberfest in Munich, and he reacted as if I was speaking in a foreign tongue (which, to be truthful, I was).

“For people who don’t want to get drunk,” he replied, “we make nonalcoholic wheat beer. “

I love that sentiment: Live and let live.

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