visiting d-day

[I decided to break the posts into two, because as one it would be too long]

So ANYWAY, the next day I toured Normandy. Unfortunately I had to leave the really amazing hostel at 7am, because I had to walk to the train station and be there by 8am for my tour started then. Around 8am, a young man stepped out of the van and asked if I was Tim, and told me that I would be the only one of the morning tour. From that moment, I knew that the day was going to be amazing.

My guide, Patrice, first drove me to Utah Beach and showed me around. Luckily it was sunny, so I got to see a lot of the beach and surrounding area. It was high tide however, so the beach was drastically smaller than it would have been. I got to roam around the beach and the remaining bunkers that weren’t filled in with sand (their filling wasn’t intentional, but just natural. I mean, D-DAY was sixty years ago).


After Utah Beach we went to Ste-Mere-Eglise, were the 82nd Airborne was supposed to land and capture the town. As we all know, the droppings didn’t go to plan and they (and the 101st) were scattered practically everywhere. Nevertheless this one paratrooper, John Steele, landed on the Church and to commemorate him being there for the amount of time he was (several hours), a dummy paratrooper is still hanging from the spire. There was a museum in town that I went to, which was interesting but the manikins dressed in army gear was extremely tacky. What was most fascinating about the museum was a film that was shown about the battle to liberate the town. In it, it discussed the total deaths of D-Day. My numbers may be a bit off, and I don’t know if it was accurate/how they got these figures, but I remember it stating that 80,000 Allied Soldiers died compared to 200,000 German. That immense discrepancy impacted me, for I never considered the amount of German lives the battle took. Later when I visited the German cemetery, I would discover that a majority of those killed were younger than I was (and I’m only 21…)

After Ste. Mere Eglise, Patrice showed me these small villages where battles took place that I had never heard of. As we drove through the country side, it was powerful to imagine the chaos that must have been going on during the initial hours, and that some random soldier was walking the roads I was travelling on, not fully knowing where he was or who was around him. One of the places we went to was Graingers where a massacre occured (more on it here), and the other was St. Côme-du-Mont, where this man Joseph Beyrle began his amazing story throughout World War II. I would explain, but it would honestly take awhile. More info is here. I also noticed the plethora of American flags and paraphernalia both in the town around Normandy. I mean, the US did liberate France...but its also France. It really was an odd sight to see and then attempt to rationalize.

The morning session drew to a close, and the afternoon one began with a new tour guide and group. I was kind of annoyed at first, because I really enjoyed traveling around with my own personal guide, but I eventually enjoyed the new one, Oliver who was born in Normandy and whose father fought in the French resistance. The group however…well I’ll just say this: young kids, and people my age from California. Get the point? Okay, let’s move on…

We toured Pointe du Hoc, which was stilled cratered from the intense bombing and battle that occurred there. After which we went to Omaha Beach, which was interesting on two levels: first, it was HUGE. It was low tide by this time in the afternoon, so the beach extended for a quarter mile or so (I don’t know really, it was just really long); and there were also houses built on the beach. Now, I am quite ambivalent about this and don’t necessarily feel like sharing on this because this post is already ridiculously long.

Finally we visited the American Cemetery, which really put the entire battle into perspective. There were bells that occasionally playing “God Bless America,” which obviously triggered an emotional response (along with the row upon row of crosses and Stars of David.

Before long I was back in Paris, where I completed my travel break. I didn’t do too much there, save for wandering around and seeing the sights. The last night there Katie’s cousin took us out for dinner at this great streak house, where I had the rawest meat I’ve eaten and it was delicious (oh, and some nice French wine).

I probably should give Paris more justice, but because it was the end of the tour I was practically broke, and very weary of traveling. I had seen sights that I will probably never see again, although I hope I can one more time. I had been on the road, a nomad for three weeks and was ready to return to a place that I called “home” whereupon I could do laundry for cheap and sleep in my own bed. And come morning, not worry about having to catch a bus, train, or airplane; or that breakfast was ending soon and I would have to check out shortly thereafter. Once you begin traveling, you are infected with some desire to see and do everything that you can. But its also nice to have a place you can return to and see people that experienced different, yet similar experiences – which I think is the greatest facet I will take out of my tenure here. When people think of traveling to different continents, it is made to seem that they are traveling to outer space (well, I suppose Tokyo is like that). I know that before I came to Denmark I was told of/envisioned some socialist utopia where everyone is tall, blond, and beautiful. What I discovered is that wasn’t really the case (except for the beautiful part). Yet despite the language and cultural differences, everyone is still human. Everything that ranges from their leisure time, to emotions, to architecture, to the public transit systems are essentially the same. Some claim that this is the product of “globalization,” but its so much more basic than that. It’s about the current that runs in between each human - our souls perhaps?

Wow, sorry I kinda got carried away with that. I hope that I covered every topic during these few days, although I probably forgot some really funny and interesting things. But whatever, I’ll add them when I remember. Photos of my adventure are here.

prelude to normandy

Sorry for the delay with updating – I had a rather busy week and weekend. I was going to enjoy a quiet Saturday by a) refining what I already wrote by adding some facets I forgot; and b) write about Paris and Normandy. However I was awoken early on Saturday morning by a phone call from my friend Zack, asking if I wanted to play at this nearby indoor Frisbee tournament for this coed Norwegian Team. [Quick note – in Frisbee there are two groups: open and girls. Girls can play on guys teams (thus making it “open”) but guys cannot play on girls team. Most “open” teams are usually just guys though.] I obviously accepted and have been since playing ultimate. Needless to say I am very sore, as I haven’t had any real physical activity in three weeks; and our team only had two subs, two girls, and one dude with a bad toe. But here goes (warning, its VERY long):

Mariah and I got into Paris sometime on Tuesday night and checked into the (bad) hostel. I had a horrible time trying to make a phone call to the hostel in Bayeux as my international sim card, which hadn’t worked AT ALL yet, wasn’t working either. In Ireland I was able to survive because their phones used change. In France however, you need to purchase a seven-fifty euro phone card – which also didn’t work. It’s been two weeks and I am still angry about that. Nevertheless I/we met some of Mariah’s friends from her school in Italy, and we spent Halloween night wandering around Paris.

I was quite worried when I first got to Paris, as I was supposed to go to Bayeux the next day but I had not: contacted the hostel to see if there was any vacancy; purchased a train ticket; or spoken with my other friend whom I was meeting in the city as both of our phones weren’t working. Luckily Katie gave me the address of the Hotel her mother and she were staying at, so I quickly left the hostel and went to the hotel at around 11am (which is when most places require you to check out). When I got into the hotel, I pretended that I was someone really important and that I needed to know whether the two of them had checked out or not. The lady at the desk offered me a telephone to call the room. I did, and discovered that they were in fact still there. I met them in the lobby, whereupon Katie’s cousin, who was living in Paris, also arrived to meet them. I told Katie my situation with Bayeux, and her cousin offered his cell phone to me to make the call. I did, and found out that there was in fact vacancy so I could sleep there at the hostel, and not have to cancel my reservation for touring Normandy the next day.

With the heavy burden off my shoulders, the three of us (Katie’s mom having flew home) went to a friend of Katie’s cousin, where he cooked us French toast. The rest of the afternoon was spent with us lounging around until I had to leave for the train station. Needless to say with all the traveling and the near disaster I managed to avoid, doing nothing for a few hours and watching television while someone cooks you food was WONDERFUL.

So in Europe, you need to validate your train ticket before boarding the train – otherwise you’ll get scolded and/or fined. When the train for Bayeux departed, I realized that I had in fact forgotten to validate my ticket. Luckily a rather cute gal was sitting across from me and I was able to ask her (in French that is) if she spoke English, and if not validating your ticket was a big deal. In a very friendly manner she said yes to both. I was worried that I would infuriate a French conductor (already did it in Italy and its not enjoyable) and then get fined, more so than an attractive and seemingly kind French gal, that was willing to speak English, was sitting across from me. Luckily my anxiety subsided when she reassured me that it wasn’t too big a deal, but I should notify a conductor when they walked by. She even told me how to say it in French! (No conductor however ever came by to check, so that crisis was avoided). Before long we were engaged in a conversation for the entire train ride about all sorts of things. Among which are: she thinking I was English (why does this keep happening!?); my lack of “American” (i.e. Texan) accent; her being an art student at Toulouse; the French Rivera and Provence; her laughing/reveling at the European-language phrasebook and guidebook I had on me; and how she was from Normandy. Not to get sappy but I think I fell in love that night, and by the way she said goodbye and how nice it was to meet me I think the emotions were mutual. Alas.

Like any small town in Europe, Bayeux was extremely old and beautiful. I had to walk through it to get from the train station to the hostel, and felt (surprisingly) at home. It was so quiet and serene, and it was really nice to be alone for an extended period of time. The cathedral was light up so beautifully that I was just totally in awe – on my list of favorite places I visited, it is one of the best. And the hostel there was equally as amazing. It was in an extremely old building that wasn’t a house or a mansion – it was really quite unique. The woman running it didn’t really speak any English, as she just gave me my key and asked for 20 euros. I had my entire room to myself, which was quite a relief as the night prior in Paris was tumultuous because of these two German girls stumbling in around 3am and making lots of noise (but that’s another story for another time). Once of the best memories of my trip was as I waited for my dinner to cook, I stood outside and reveled in how peaceful it was. The weather was also wonderful - just brisk enough that a sweatshirt suffices. There weren’t very many people in the hostel (I would say 5 total), but I was able to bump into this girl from the States who recently graduated college and was currently teaching English south of Lyon, and we watched a soccer blooper tape from the 1980s – in French. There was also this other guy in the room, but he never spoke so I don’t have anything to say about him.