Normandy, May 30-31

This weekend we took a trip to Normandy. We took and SNCF train to Caen, then public transit to the Memorial Museum. It was fascinating, moving and informative. It was eye-opening to learn history from a perspective other than the US; to see how France fell so easily to the Nazi's, but then to read General Ch. de Gaul's radio address calling the people to arms, to contact him, to not give up. Even writing about it now brings tears to my eyes. As Iwatched a film on D-Day and saw the actual footage, with soldiers just falling dead on the beaches, I was humbled by their sacrifices. It was great, the Museum has a free nursery for kids, so all 3 of our played there while Andy and I saw the museum. Later, as I walked in the American Memorial Garden I was touched by the scripture on Arizona's plaque: "Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for a friend." And then to see my children play in the fountains just feet away from this stone inscription: "From the heart of our land from flows the laughter of our children, paid for by the blood of our soldiers," or something like that, I felt gratitude rise in my heart like a physical sensation.
After the museum, we drove to Arromanches to see Port Winston, an artificial harbor created by the Allies to and troops, supplies, vehicles etc. It was astounding--I'd never realized that they sunk ships, and then huge football-sized concrete blocks to create a harbor; then used floating pillars and bridges to connect the ships with the land. Arromanches was beautiful, the kind of place that made me want to buy a house I saw up for sale, turn it into a Bed and Breakfast, and move to France for a few years operating it. Everything was blue: the shutters, the big sky, the signs. We bought the yummiest crepes from a stand that was nearby a park we found. I also checked out the local Catholic Church; it was much smaller than the big ones in Paris, but I liked the feel of it better than any I have been into yet.
From Arromanches we drove to Vielle-sur-mer to see the huge German gun emplacements that are still there. As I stood in them, I half-expected German soldiers to step out the doorway. To be in the little rooms they once hunkered down in, to walk through the same low doorways, was eerily disquieting. It was early evening, which only heigtened the sense that evil might be lurking anywhere. From there we drove to Pont du Hoc; these are sheer cliffs that 250 hand-picked Army Rangers scaled, castle-wall style, with grappling hooks and ladders borrowed from the London fire dept. Because they were dropped off from their boat at the wrong location, they lost all element of surprise as they came up the beach to the cliffs. This also caused the attack to start 40 minutes late, so when officers didn't hear back from them, they thought the mission had failed, and sent the reinforcements meant for them elsewhere. For 2 days, these men fought alone. By the end, only 90 were combat-able; the rest were wounded or dead. But they did what they were supposed to do, disable the German gun emplacements that had access to the beaches--and thus the Allied soldiers--on either side of them. The ground here is scarred with huge craters where bombs and grenades and the like exploded. As I walked in these gun emplacements, I felt sorrow not only for the "good guys" who died here, but also for the "other" guys. I suppose they had mothers too, mothers who wanted their sons home just as much as any American mother. I'm sure some were men who, by no choice of their own, were forced to join Hitler's army, who were just fighting to stay alive. I kept thinking of the music from McKane and Rob's "Price of Freedom"; "the only reason you're stil standing here at all, is to fight to save your brother by your side." I knew that must be true of both sides who fought here and I thought how our Father in Heaven must weep over His children. I liked this quote from the museum by Ghandi: "There is no path to peace; peace is the path."
I was sorry to miss the American cemetery, but it was closed, as was the German one I would've liked to visit. We drove back to our hotel in Caen and spent the night.
The next morning we drove to Mont St. Michel--a monastary crowning the top of a small island just off the coast. It was breathtaking. My allergies went berserk, but at least it wasn't a hot day--it never is here. The whole island is picturesque with it's narrow, winding, climbing streets; Andy commented that it was like Minas-Tirith in Lord of the Rings. It totally was. We toured the Abby, which was full of all sorts of fascinating rooms and bits of history. At one point after the Revolution, the monks were kept prisoner here by their atheistic government; they were put to work in a huge, wooden hamster-type wheel--Warren called it a treadmill and said they must have exercised there--that fit 6 men in it. Their exertion pulled wooden sleds loaded with stone up the steep mountain face to further fortify and build the island fortress. The views were beautiful, and I could see how the monkd must have felt close to God in their solitude, high on the hill on an island. I was grateful for temples that dot the face of the land now, places where Heaven and Earth meet.
We stopped by a supermarket on the way out and got some picnic supplies and then stopped at a picnic spot on the side of the road to eat. It was green, cool, shady, quiet, secluded and had sheep grazing off in the distance. Talk about your picnic in the French country side.

We drove back to Caen and took a train back to Paris. I kept the kids busy by making up an extended story about their adventures with "Jacque, le petit French pony" all over Normandy. At one point, Jacque left them to go with his long-lost pony family, and Warren's lip started quivering and he started blinking and I knew he was going to cry, so I quikcly invented a way for Jacque to receive postcards from the kids. It worked.
We got home, left the kids with a good friend from church who was babysitting them and went off to a party at a friend's house for another friend's 35th anniversary. It was fun to meet a several people from the ward we hadn't met yet.
If that sounds like a perfect trip to you and you're thinking, "Why don't I do things like that?" let me tell you this: travel--esp. when you're paying in Euros--is SO expensive; finding your way around in a strange town in a rental car is frustrating; not having a bathroom for your 5 year old and having to put a diaper on him to save the situation is gross; having your 3 year old have a poopy blowout in the Musuem's nursery is embarassing, esp. since you have to go back to the hotel to get her clothes; having kids who are tripping all over the place, and crying loudly when they do so, raises one's blood pressure--what did they do, forget how to walk since they are used to being in the stroller?; listening to kids whine as they climb the steps up the hill and then give up and just sit down on them as people are trying to pass is frustrating; having kids who got to bed too late the night before does not make for the most resilient travelers; carrying 2 car seats around with us on the train, on the tram, in the station, returning the rental car, is enough to make you go mad; missing your return train to Paris by about 6 minutes can cause an anneurism; not to mention Andy having to return the car seat we borrowed: the station he wanted to get off at was closed, it was raining, he was carrying two car seats and a fully loaded backpack with all of our clothes in it and his laptop...well, you get the picture. I just didn't want to spoil the good side of the trip with all this stuff. Was it fun more than 50% of the time? Yes, esp. if you include the time we were asleep, the percentage goes much higher. Are there things we'll do differently if we attempt a whirlwind trip like this again? Definitely. The most important lesson I learned is that trying to save money doesn't always end up saving you money; sometimes it costs you more money and of course, lost time. But that is a valuable lesson for a cheap-o like me to learn, especially when the price is relatively low--2 days--and not our 2 week vacation from July 1-16. There are moments I wish I could forget and moments I'll always remember. My friend Meg has a great quote at the bottom of all her emails, something like, "You live, you learn. At any rate, you live." We did a lot of both this weekend.