Journey to Normandy and Omaha Beach (June 26th)

Today, the four of us were heading to Omaha Beach. We would be taking two trains today: one to Caen to visit the American Cemetery and Omaha Beach, and then one to Pontorson, where we would be staying for the next two nights. Two hour train rides were becoming a breeze, like they're nothing. I keep thinking to myself that when I return to the States, traveling home to Tallahassee is going to feel extremely short. Walking 15 minutes to class won't even compare to the three hours a day that I walk here. I may or may not be looking forward to being able to drive my car again...a lot. Hopefully I still remember how to drive.

Once in Caen, we hailed a taxi to take us to the American Cemetery. Our taxi cab driver was the best driver I've ever had. He spoke amazing English, (thank God) and gave us fun facts about the cemetery and Normandy all along the way. Apparently the French have declared the American Cemetery as part of the United States of America. Similar to an U.S. Embassy. The memorial and cemetery were free of charge. Now I can't possibly do the Memorial and Cemetery justice through describing it, but let's just say that it was humbling to say the very least. From the touching videos and artifacts to the roster of fallen soldiers being played over the intercom, it rendered each of us speechless. There was no moving fast through this memorial, not an option. We spent a solid hour and a half reading all of the boards throughout the building that told the story of D-Day, from years before to the few days after June 6th. I was amazed at how much strategic planning, training, and engineering went into the victory at Normandy. It wasn't like any other war the U.S had fought before, and not just because it wasn't on our turf. There was an extensive amount of careful planning and selection that allowed the U.S to be victorious on that day in June and it was downright amazing.

As we made our way outside and to the cemetery, it was silent sans the birds chirping and the distant sound of the ocean. The skies were dreary, but not dreadful. Somehow, the weather felt exactly appropriate for the site that we were visiting. At the first glimpse of the cemetery, I was brought to tears. We walked around and through the cemetery for a while, taking long pauses every now and then to let it all sink in. For every cross or Jewish star in the cemetery, there was a family that was devastated. Wives, brothers, fathers, and friends were left alone while their loved ones gave the ultimate sacrifice. It was impossible to fully grasp the magnitude of this cemetery and battle, but I tried my best. We climbed down the side of the mountain to Omaha beach. Omaha beach was a bare beach, with no visible traces of what happened there. But, something about it just felt different. Looking out into the ocean, we tried to imagine the boats, planes, and thousands of men wading through the water to the shore. As we climbed back up the side of the hillside, we were struggling making our way up the perfectly cut path and stairs with our 25 pound backpacks on our shoulders. Imagine carrying a backpack and gear weighing over 50 pounds (or a fallen comrade) up the side of this hillside while being shot at, with no sidewalks, just the terrain. My experience at the American Cemetery and Omaha Beach has been my favorite experience thus far. It will forever leave a lasting impression.



Our train to Pontorson (right outside of Mont. St. Michel) was scheduled to leave at 5:10, so we hailed another taxi and made our way back to the train station around 3. We stopped for lunch at a local cafe nearby and relaxed. The food wasn't fantastic, but we were starving, so it was just fine. When we arrived in Pontorson, we were greeted at the train station by Paul, the husband of our host couple. Our hostel this go round was actually a bed and breakfast. Score. Paul and Jane are from the UK, so naturally I was thrilled. He drove us back to the hostel, Au Bon Accueil in his UK car. What an interesting feeling that was. The journey to the house was beautiful. The countryside of Normandy was gorgeous, with fields, trees, and cows everywhere. Cow. Another cow. I could see myself living in a place like Normandy. Our bed and breakfast was unbelievably cute and quaint. The hospitality of this couple was unmatched. Paul had made reservations for us at a "local" British pub because he figured that we would be hungry and all of the kitchens in Normandy close at 8. (It was 8:30). How sweet. He drove us to the restaurant where we proceeded to have a fantastic American meal, burgers and fries. We met some of the other people staying at our hostel, there were only a few of us. When we made it back to our hostel, we tried to hook all of our phones up to WiFi network. Funny thing. It only works in one corner of the dining room. So, for an hour or so, all of us were standing together in the corner holding our phones up to the ceiling, trying to get Internet connection to let our families know that we were safe and sound.

We had the "penthouse suite" according to Jane, and I'll agree that it was pretty nice. I chose to sleep on one of the top bunks. All day. All night. Top bunk! That night, with the room pitch black and a portable fan circulating air, I got one of the bests nights of sleep I've had since I left America. Much needed.