Our journey started at 7:45 am...enough said. That's way too early to ask 40 students studying in Paris to get to the Bastille and get on a bus. It happened though, and we only left a couple people behind (they had to catch a train to meet us)! I couldn't tell you about the first leg of our drive, because like any sane person, I was sleeping. I was awoken though, after a few hours, as the bus jerked to a stop in Arromanches. This town is on the northern coast of France, and is the little village right inthe middle of all the D-Day landing beaches. There, we saw a video tribute in a 360 degree theatre to those who died during the invasion. It was pretty effective, especially since they had the volume turned so high up - the gunshots sounded real. There were no words either, it was just a montage of images and video clips and sound.
After the film, we ate lunch in Arromanches, which is a pretty small, but typical French town. The town was also the site of a Nazi artificial harbor that consisted of enormous steel floating blocks. You can still see many remaining blocks wedged in the sand just off the beach.
After lunch, we got back on the bus and drove about 10 minutes down the road to the American Cemetary right behind Omaha beach. We had a couple hours to walk around the cemetary, see the memorial, and stroll on the beach. The cemetary (which is quite large) is actually American territory: a gift from France free of charge, tax, or fee, forever. The French keep up the grounds and gardens quite nicely too. It's eerie, needless to say, to wander through the 9,000+ white marble crosses and stars of David. It's made even more somber when they tell you that an additional 14,000 soldiers' remains were shipped back home at the request of their families.
There are just so many graves, all neatly organized in rows much as the soldiers would have stood in attention. They all symbolically face West, looking home.
The beaches themselves are also humbling. As I looked back from the beach at the cliffs and hills, I could just imagine the German bunkers lighting up with gunfire and Allied planes soaring over my head. All of this played out in my imagination, contrasting with the silence and serene beauty that now characterizes the place.
Then we re-embarked and drove an additional few hours, crossed into Brittany, and pulled into St. Malo, a walled coastal city with a long history. It's always been wealthy and powerful thanks to it's famous industry: privateering (government sanctioned piracy against other countries). We got in at night, so we couldn't see too much. We tasted a lot, though. Eddy and I had mussels and fries, and a galette (similar to a crèpe, but heavier and made with buckwheat that gets crispy). This meal is very characteristic of the region.
So after a night at our surprisingly nice hotel, we got up and got a walking tour of the ramparts of the city, led by our faithful history-professor guide, Marek. The tour was jam-packed with information about St. Malo's rebellious, free-spirited history and it's famous privateers. After the tour we had a bit of down time before getting on the bus to visit Mont St. Michel.
Mont St. Michel is a large pyramid-shaped hill rising out of the tidal mud flats of France's western coasts. It's really a wild environment - the mud flats give rise to quicksand - real quicksand - that has threatened to swallow pilgrims to the abbey for hundreds of years.
The abbey that sits atop the mini-mountain has been there since before the year 1000 when a bishop had a vision from God telling him to erect a chapel to St. Michael at the location. Over the years it grew, was damaged, and modified many times. Now, there is a small village that shares the hill with the monastery, which is still a working one with a permanent population of monks. Marek had solid commentary through the entire visit to the abbey and church. One amazing thing is that the Mont has never been captured by an enemy force.
Then it was back to the bus and back to St. Malo. We spent the day really getting to know some of the other students on the trip, which was a great thing to do. We spent the night in St. Malo going out with our new friends. The nightlife there is pretty slow, but it's really who you're with, not what club you're at, that counts.
No rest for the weary, though. Then next morning we were up and out by 9:00 am. That's a brutal time, especially after a night out. There were good stories for the bus ride though. Our last stop before getting back home was Bayeux, a little town not far from where we first were in Normandy that is home to the Bayeux tapestry: a mere 3 foot tall but hundreds of feet long tapestry depicting William the Conqueror's famous campaign against England. We were armed with audioguides and sent in to tackle the tapestry that dates back almost 1000 years. It's astounding how a piece of embroidered fabric can even last that long. The guide led us scene by scene through the event (which took place in 1066) and succeeded in telling an interesting story. The town of Bayeux itself is also worth seeing. It really looks like a freeze-frame of World War II in some parts, like a scene from Saving Private Ryan. We had a few hours to lunch and meander through it.
Five hours on the road from Bayeux to Paris went quickly. After an hour or so, the chatter in the bus died down and everyone dozed off until we rolled into Paris under the blue-glow of the Eiffel tower and the shadow of a newly-constructed Ferris wheel sitting proudly in Place de la Concorde. I'm glad I got to see another part of France that's so full of history.
Well, I'm finishing this blog from a hostel in Florence (it's hard to keep up with this stuff!). Soon enough, you'll be hearing about Italy!
A piece of the Nazi artificial harbor at Arromanches in Normandy. A person stands in front of it.
The American Cemetary just inland of Omaha beach, the graves all facing West. The sight of it just silences you.
Looking out to the Ocean from Omaha beach, the place where so many Americans gave their lives. The people who live in the area still hand American, British, and Canadian flags from their homes and businesses.
The beautiful walled city of St. Malo. Picture taken from the ramparts.
The coast in Northern France is wild and rocky, not a place for a casual swim. Extreme tides and unusually strong currents make it a dangerous place for ocean-goers.
The cloister in the Abbey of Mont St. Michel: a place of peace and meditation for the monks.
Me on the road a few kilometers from Le Mont St. Michel. It just rises up out of the mud - breathtaking.
Posts
1 comment:
I've been to all the places you wrote about in this blog! Brings back memories of my trip after high school. I loved Mont St. Michel. Did you see any sheep grazing on the grass that only grows when the tide is out?
Post a Comment