A Return to Regensburg: Longing for a Past That Shaped My Future
November 7th, 2025
Seventeen years. That’s how long it had been since I last walked through the famed cobblestoned streets of Regensburg’s Altstadt. The late fall rainy afternoon felt like a perfect embrace after so many years away.
As I stepped into the Hauptbahnhof, it felt bigger and more alive than it ever had in either of the two times I studied there, while the foyer remained nearly exactly as I remembered.
My trip back would be shorter than I wanted. A few hours detour after arriving on the night train from Warsaw and checking into my hotel in Munich. This was the sort of place that deserved more than that. Even if the time I spent there was brief–just a semester in the fall of 2003 and a single summer month in 2008–it has had a lasting effect on me.
It was my first trip abroad, my first extended period away from home. It was a dream come true, the thing I yearned for as a child. To explore, to see, to live elsewhere beyond the confines not just of my family’s homestead nestled in the valleys of Eastern Nelson County, but somewhere other than America.
And all it did was fertilize that desire to do it again. When I got back–both times, really–I stayed in a funk for years until I pushed myself out of Kentucky again, that time around for good. It was a funk born of the frustration that comes with knowing where I was, where I had gone, and the difference between the person I was in those places. Knowing that the person I was or had the opportunity to become outside the place I returned to made me impatient, left me feeling like I had somehow lost something or missed an opportunity, and it made me yearn for more of what I had in that Bavarian town, knowing full well I might never have that chance again.
When I finally moved to DC, I never really looked back, because this was the next best thing to being stuck in a place with no more space to grow. Sure, I visited home a few times, but that was more because my mother asked me to, and less because I had any intention of moving back to bourbon country.
That spark I’d always had was ignited into something more in Regensburg and finally grew into the sort of perpetual bonfire required for someone who wants to get outside their known world. DC sated me for a while, but even then, after twelve years, a wife, two kids, that itch was back.
That was part of the reason we started this whole journey. So far, we’ve lived in Beijing for two years and have been in Warsaw since late June. And I knew when we found out that we’d be back in this general area, that one of the first trips I made would be to Regensburg.
It wasn’t precisely as I remembered it, and I did eventually walk down some streets that I know I didn’t explore when I was there. But the landmarks and street names of the Altstadt, where I lived, were mostly the same. The cobblestone streets I roamed as a bright-eyed and naive 21-year-old American kid were almost instantly familiar. I was in this weird space, stuck between nostalgia, feeling like I never left, and walking around a place I had never seen before.
It could be because I had a set time limit there and was trying to absorb as much as I could. Or it was because enough had changed that it felt less like a homecoming and more like being a tourist. It was a familiar feeling, however, one I noticed when I visited my hometown last summer.
My favorite restaurant, a little Vietnamese place on Unterebachgasse between my old apartment and Kohlenmarkt, was there too, though with a changed menu and far less ambitious opening hours. The pizza place owned by a guy with my last name was gone, but it had closed before my previous visit. I had hoped, maybe, that he’d have another shop and that maybe on my stroll through the city, I’d stumble upon it. That didn’t happen. But in a way, the Vietnamese place being there, but changed, was a perfect microcosm of the entire experience: familiar, yet different.
The rainy weather made me remember another place where the weather never seemed to matter, Murphy’s Law, my roommate’s favorite watering hole. The aptly named Irish bar played host to far too many nights, so much so that the bartenders started pouring our beers the moment we walked in. There was also the Irish Harp, just south of the river. We went once, and my roommate ended up on stage singing Tom Petty’s Mary Jane’s Last Dance.
My stomach rumbled, and I knew where I needed to go: the Historisches Wurstkuchl, the oldest sausage hut in Germany. It’s right on the Danube, and even on a rainy day, it formed a perfect backdrop for a day of exploring my old stomping grounds. I ate sausages and downed two .4 liter mugs of local lager, savoring the familiar taste and the comforting weight of tradition.
With a full stomach, I walked towards the iconic Stone Bridge, a landmark that had witnessed centuries of Regensburg’s history. It was built in the 12th Century and served as inspiration for, among others, the London and the Pont d’Avignon bridges. The bridge made Regensburg an essential point for trade and commerce. But it also serves as a fantastic place to capture the whole panorama of the cityscape along the river.
My walk continued along a few small side streets on the island between the old city and Stadamhof, itself another island. There was a brief moment when I remembered spending one hot summer afternoon at the Spital Beer Garden watching the Euros. Germany sputtered to a 2-1 defeat against Croatia, jeopardizing their chances of moving to the next round.
I found our old stammtisch location, the Goldene Ente. And even the club, TS Regensburg, I played with a few times when I picked up with a local soccer team. But it was clear my time was up, and I needed to head back to the train station. The last thing I wanted to do was get back to Munich too late, besides, after barely sleeping on the night train from Warsaw, I was looking forward to a little shut-eye.
I know I’ll be back in Regensburg, either for a more extended stay or another quick trip. My family will join me, and I hope the kids will at least understand how much the place means to me. That’s okay if they don’t, they’re still young.
I thought the visit would close a circle, as I felt going back to Munich for a Champions League match would, but neither did. It created something else in me, something different than what I was expecting, something I’m not sure how to process. A mix of contentment to leave something behind, but also missing the opportunities it brought. Like turning the page on something that helped me grow, while yearning to be back where it all happened.
I just hope it’s not another seventeen years before I return.
Further reading:
