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There are some things in life that lose their awe-inspiring power when experienced again. The D-Day Beaches of Normandy, France, do not fit into this category. After checking out of the apartment, we left Paris bound for the village of Bayeux. From Bayeux, it was only a short bus ride to Omaha Beach. Cool and grey, the mood was set for a moving walk through history.
Our visit began with a tour through the Omaha Beach Visitor Center. Though the events and facts of the D-Day invasion were factually presented, the beauty of the Visitor Center is not its preservation of historical information. Rather, the center focused on the individual stories of sacrifice and heroism. Through videos, letters, and diary entries, we were moved by the incredibly personal perspective. What made the presentation even heavier was that more often than not, the story ended with a plot marker where the young American soldier will forever remain in the American Cemetery at Colleville Sur Mer.
From the Visitor Center, we strolled along the beach front to the cemetery. The cemetery begins with a massive wall inscribed with the names of the soldiers lost in action. Following the entrance wall, a beautifully manicured
green lawn sprawled out in front of us. Meticulously placed, more than nine thousand marble white crosses dotted the lawn as far as the eye could see. Though I had been in the cemetery before, Lauren and I were equally moved by the sight in front of us. Personally, I was overwhelmed by the loss of life in front of me, but even more by a sense of pride. Each of the crosses gave testament to America’s desire not for conquest or territory, but to better the world. And to liberate a people and defeat an enemy so far from home, so many American men and women made the greatest sacrifice. To all of our many veterans from our many engagements, thank you for your sacrifice.
We left the cemetery and walked the beachfront, where German defenses still dot the hills. Overgrown by the foliage, bunkers, machine gun nests, and cannon bases still remain along the Normandy coast. A top a bunker, we had a picnic looking down on Omaha Beach. Where American boys once stormed a fortified beach, French families now play in the cool Atlantic waters.
Our trip to Normandy continued with a train ride to Mont St.
Michel. The Mont is a gargantuan abbey and village built on a rocky platform. Other than its architecture, what makes Mont St. Michel so memorable is that at high tide its rocky base is completely submerged in the sea. We arrived in Mont St. Michel at dusk. After checking into our hotel and having dinner, we hiked the mile long path to the base of the Mont. With every façade illuminated, the glowing Mont at night may have been one of the grandest things I have seen in my life. Drip. Drop. Drip. What we mistook for evening, coastal dew quickly morphed into an all out rain storm. Weighed down by camera gear and lacking any form of umbrella, we began a mad dash back down the trial. Isn’t it funny how far a short distance can feel when the setting changes? Entirely soaked, we made it back into our warm hotel. I guess we should have wondered why we were the only walkers gazing at the beautiful Mont late at night.
We woke up the following morning with plans to explore the interior of the Mont. Dry and sunny, the trail once again seemed so short. Compared to the
view at night, the grey stones of Mont St. Michel were blasé. We crossed the hefty gates of the Mont and began exploring the labyrinth of narrow causeways that led us up the concentric circles of the Mont. The Abbey of Mont St. Michel rested at the pinnacle of the concentric circles and was the crowning piece of architecture. Stained glass, vaulted ceilings, and an arched cloister adorned the abbey. We descended the abbey and found a green bit of grass to have a picnic in the Mont’s shadow before our bus departed for the train station. We headed back to Paris for a quick sleep and an early morning train to London!!! We nearly ended up in some serious trouble when we made it back to Paris. We had checked our luggage in a locker. We casually walked into the room and asked for our luggage. The guy working the desk told us he was closing in five minutes! If our train had been even a few minutes late, we would be short all of our luggage. Making things even more complicated, the storage did not open again until 7 am! Our Eurostar train to London departed at 6:05
am. As always, things have a funny way of working out when we are together.
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