Sobering Sites

The last 36 odd hours, we spent along the Normandy coast, in northern France. As I had done a month's worth of research specifically on D-Day during college, I was particularly interested in connecting some of the words on the page, to the real-life landmarks. We spent our first night in lovely Honfleur. Not quite a part of the D-Day beaches, this quaint little port town is very much a part of Normandy. Its cider, crepes and coastal views were as present as any other town. We wandered the art gallery strewn sidewalks and munched on a croissant and sipped our cappuccino. I think it was the first time in 60+ days that the picture in my mind matched reality. It was idyllic. We spent just a few short hours there and then began the more reflective, introspective leg of our journey. On our way to Omaha Beach, on which our hotel was directly located, we stopped in one of Normandy's workaday towns, bustling and busy and missing the charm of the rest of its neighbors. However, in the center of this city was the best museum that I had ever been to. The Caen Memorial Museum focused on WWII, yet was able to do so by bringing you through years of war and build-up, giving you the history necessary for a more complete understanding. Not only was the museum informative, it was eye-popping. Each room and each space in each room was deliberate and well done. The memorial space to the Holocaust was dimly lit, flickering candles bordering a mostly empty space, helping you to focus and meditate. The rest of the museum continued in like form. We learned much, but enjoyed the visit for more than that. The exhibits continued, winding their way up to the pinnacle, on which stood a moving, complete and touching storyline of September 11th. It was an incredibly sympathetic and personal look at America, terrorism and worldwide cooperation.

After the Museum, a gourmet bite overlooking Omaha beach and a good night's rest, Monday was jam-packed with seeing the sites. I can't very well paint the picture of the gun batteries, or describe the incredible will it would have taken for the US Rangers to scale the sheer cliffs at Pointe Du Hoc. However, I can tell you that never have I had the perspective that I did during that day. I realized that the answers to the questions are never easy. War is never cut and dry. I came away feeling proud and sorry and sympathetic and angry. Above all, I felt surprised. On this Adventure, Whitney and I have seen ancient ruins, buildings built before Christ and a host of other not-quite-understood (but very old) sites, and yet, here we were, standing alongside a gun three times my height, that was sending explosives thirteen miles out to sea, just 60 years ago. 60 years. I hadn't realized that I had gained perspective on this trip. I hadn't realized that 60 years would seem so close, seem so yesterday, compared to the rest of history. There were cars, there were radios, there were restaurants and bars and cigarettes. There were elaborate plans, brilliant ideas and incredible military technologies. What may now seem so barbaric, and so heinous wasn't happening under the Cesar's rule or during the time of Sun worship. It wasn't ancient history. It isn't ancient history. It was just yesterday.