Was around 160km or 99.5 miles. Wish I’d done another half mile for roundness’ sake.

The day began at Phil and Ingrid’s, yet another intensely friendly and draining couchsurfing experience ending with the standard, intensely friendly farewell.

Filled with caffeine and various pastries, I compared this morning-lit Regensburg with the nighttime version Phil had shown me the night before.

Die Steinerne Brücke

Seems to me the phrase “Old Europe” conjures up in Americans certain images of cobblestones and charming decay, statues and faded pastel facades, cafes and narrow alleyways, all with Places of Historical Importance strewn haphazardly around the quaintly nonsensically laid-out city center. Regensburg is the most archteypical Old Europe city I’ve seen so far.

David vs Goliath Facade

Regensburg survived centuries of warfare unscathed and its current citizens seem to revel in merging antiquity with modernity. I would go back. But it was time to go.

No sooner was I down the Danube when this imposing impostor swam into view:

Valhalla

Kitschy Majesty.

Good Ol’ King Ludwig had some more tricks up his sleeve. Despite being out of place, this Parthenon copy was truly imposing and impressive to bike towards and climb up to. The Valhalla temple, named after the beer hall where victorious and valiant Germanic pagan warriors went upon death, featured busts of “laudable and distinguished Germans” and speakers of the “Germanic tongue.”

This music seemed appropriate.

As with most everything Ludwig had built (and many things in German history), the impressiveness has to be taken with a grain of salt. The idea of ‘Germany’ (and nationalism in general) was invented in the 19th century and monuments such as this one were one of many methods of creating ‘The German Nation’ by concretely manifesting a Romantic mythology to both unify and create the ‘German people.’ German Nationalism has had, to put it ubermildly, a mixed track record.

The steps up to Valhalla were covered in shattered beers bottles. If I were a young punk German kid, I could think of no cooler place to illicitly drink.

The rest of the day was a blur. I kept on it hard, knowing this would be the biggest day of the trip (or so I thought) and that Olaf, my next couchsurfing host, would be awaiting my arrival at 7pm.

Listened to “Blonde on Blonde” for the first time in its entirety somewhere in there. 90 miles later, I met Olaf in Passau, a German Venice right on your border, Oh Beloved Austria. Olaf led me up a hug hill, which was a challenge after a long day of riding, where his farmstead/student housing overlooked the city. We had dinner, lightened my load by finishing off the Weltenburg beer, and talked politics, travel and Egyptian hip-hop over a hookah.