Love letter to Walhalla.

        
        

Magical Walhalla, my favourite. First I fell in love with a river, then an island and now a 19th Century temple in the backwoods of eastern Bavaria. Overlooking a bend on the aforementioned Danube, ten kilometres upstream of the little city that is home. On evenings succeeding a sunny day, the sun sets over the river in most spectacular fashion, turning the sky a brilliant orange. On the more familiar days of rising mists and a sky swimming in clouds, Walhalla seems to stand on the edge of the Earth, headboarded by shivering trees, its steps tumbling down into a pure horizon of white.

         
         

This Sunday Regensburg was enveloped in fog; thus Niki, Piers, Mim and I took Linie 5 to Donaustauf through the grey to visit my beloved Walhalla. Crazy, beautiful things always happen at Walhalla and that is why I love it so. It looked so spectacular in the overcast damp that I fell in love with its unsuspecting grandeur all over again. This time we lured many an unsuspecting German into taking our pictures with wide smiles and over-enthusiastic use of ‘Danke sehr!’ The Chef (boss) of Walhalla himself read our guide book over our shoulder as we sat looking out at the river, translating for non-German speakers, and corrected the mistakes in the text. We met the chief of Walhalla! How cool is that? Then Piers almost died (admittedly, self-inflictedly) jumping down one of the many sets of stairs. We ate a variety of German Weihnachtsschokolade and marzipan potatoes (Germany is strange) whilst admiring the view and it really was the best. And then we were electrocuted by the fence surrounding the perimeter; yet even that can’t cure me of my unabiding adoration for this place. And I still haven’t even been inside yet!