As I have said many times before in my writings here, every time I leave Paris, however amazing and wonderful of a city Paris may be, leaving the city and entering the countryside of France makes me fall in love all over again with France and the wonderful people who live in this country. This past weekend our academic group took a weekend trip to the western coast of France in the regions of Normandy and Brittany.
Arriving in Caen for our first stop of the day at the Museum of Peace, dedicated to preserving the past so that it is hopefully never repeated. The day’s tone was immediately set to somber and in remembrance with the visit to this incredible museum. The museum was very well designed creating a sense of spiraling downward into darkness. The music, or should I call it a soundtrack of the sounds of which can only compare to a marching army and the voices of support roaring in the background. It is hard to specifically describe the soundtrack to the exhibit, but I can for sure say that the feeling that is evoked throughout the rooms is one of unease, nerves, and sadness. Collections of photos, clothing, letters, and video all coming together in a way that truly shows the horrors of WWII, even for us, young American students in 2010. At the end of the museum was a very well made film that really took the exhibit we just saw and made it come alive. I am not an emotional person, but the film and all the photos/video down of the D-Day landing at Omaha Beach really hit hard. A reality of history that I could never in my wildest nightmares be able to comprehend.
Our next stop was a short drive away to Omaha Beach and the American Cemetery. We walked from the coach over to the perfectly manicured pine trees full of green nettles, flowers beautifully planted all around, and two very tall flag poles crowned with two American Flags dancing in the wind. Walking along the park, the first glimpse of the beach and the ocean’s horizon came into view all at once, in one amazing panoramic view. The first thought that rushed through my mind was how overwhelmingly beautiful the shore was, purely breathtaking.
The weather was perfect that afternoon; a light breeze blew softly, rustling the trees all around, bright blue skies with giant puffy cotton-like clouds around the brightly shining sun, and the sea calmly moving about with its gentle waves crashing on the shore. We stood on the lookout point and really took a moment to take it all in. Was this truly the beach where D-Day happened? Was this present day heaven sent beach really the hell on that morning in 1944? Looking at Omaha Beach today and knowing what happened on D-Day, the beach takes on a whole new beauty, that of remembrance and peace; peace and reflection for all those who fell on that early morning.
Continuing up the walkway, you come upon the American Cemetery. Over 10,000 bright white stone crosses and stars of David fill the massive green grass plot. All of the tombstones perfectly placed in a grid pattern, seemingly endless in numbers. Each tombstone has engraved on it the name of the solider, the day they died, and the state from which they came. All of the engraved names face west, towards home, The United States of America. Walking through the cemetery was just surreal, like this could not have really happened. After spending some time wandering the cemetery, we had to return to the coach to continue on our travels to the next destination, Saint-Malo, which I will blog about later this week probably.
Sitting on the bus gazing out the window I had the chance to really reflect on our morning at the D-Day landing sites. The first thought was more of a question: Why has America forgotten our Franco-US relationship? I feel as though people have no idea why they say a majority of their anti-France statements. After living here for so long, I really take offense to such ignorance, especially after visiting a place like the D-Day landing sites. After seeing endless photos from the Liberation of France, so many of them are of the French, men, women, and children welcoming with open hearts the American soldiers, their liberators. A day like D-Day should never be forgotten and neither should the gratitude the French have for America and all they did for them during WWII. It isn’t about who helped whom, or who saved whom, American or French, it is about humanity. After experiencing Omaha Beach this weekend, I wish people my age at home would really take the time to educate themselves before jumping to conclusions about the past and thing they really know little or nothing about. Spending such time here in Europe, a major part of my life here is the appreciation for history and the need for its preservation. For all those lost during WWII in order to preserve and expand a free world, we must not forget the brothers who fought next to each other. Whether French, American, Canadian, or British, their bravery should love on and so should our countries' relationships. We live in 2010 where we forget, or simply do not know, all that came before us in the history of our Western World. People may hate Bush or Sarkozy, but do not hate the people, for presidents are not the people or their culture.
Next D-Day, Veteran’s Day, or even the 4th of July for Independence day, take a moment at your BBQ to reflect on what it really means… for here in Europe, history resonates in the people and lives as a reminder of what the world has experienced.
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