We're in the car driving to...

"Here lies in honored glory
A COMRADE IN ARMS
known but to God."

- Tombstone inscription for an unknown American soldier.

----------

After we walked awy from Omaha Beach, we visited the American cemetery in Normandy today: beautiful, solemn, serene, tranquil and above all massive. Mag and I liked it so much that we have decided to track back our drive and go to a Canadian cemetry near Juno Beach. We just came from the direction, but it just didn't occur to us that we should look into it.

The size of the American cemetry was a rude awakening to how many people died in this region that year. The clean up job itself would have been massive; there are almost 9700 soldiers buried just at this cemetry. There are other cemetries for British, Canadian, Polish, French and German soldiers all over Normandy. The American cemetery had a lot of people at it by the time we left and I was happy to see that. It is important for our generation and those ytounger than us to realise what waris, that it has an ugly side, that people, families, and nations are left in tatters when the casualties are counted on all sides.

Right now, we're driving through these narrow streets with farmlands and pockets of forests all around us. I can just imagine the American 101st Airborne making its way painstakingly through this landscape. I constantly see huge bushes that would be perfect to hide a German Panzer tank.

four hours later...

On our way to the Canadian cemetry, we walked into a Canadian memorial centre at Juno Beach. We decided not to go in because we still had to throw in 30 euros each to cover the gas for the ride home and to get to where we are driving to now, Le Mont St Michel.

Getting back to our tour of the war sites, the Canadian cemetry is in Bieny Sur-mer-Riviers. This cemetry was smaller in size since only 3000 soldiers lie here. I hate to compare sizes but its hard not to when you visit two places that are so similiar in purpose yet so different in every other aspect.

Mag and I both thought that the Canadian cemetry was really nice. The way it had been set up made it personal, comforting and a really warm atmosphere. The shade from the sporadic trees, the out of way location surrounded by farmlands and rolling hills off in the distance was beautiful. We met another couple there from Vancouver. they were about to visit the American cemetry too. I even saw that the person who had signed the visitor's log before me was a couple from Dundas, Ontario. How good it would have been to run into someone from home. When we walked out of the cemetry, we just sat around and chilled for a while, taking in and trying to understand all that we had seen today.

It was always so hard for me to imagine the biggest war in our tiny earth's short history. These images, stories and tales of valour are so removed from my own culture and upbringing that no matter how many movies, photos and shows you see, nothing prepares you for the shock your body recieves when you realise how many graves there are. Each one of those tombstones was a life, a living breathing creature who thought of home, hot food and loved ones everytime he loaded his gun. What was even more shocking at the Canadian cemetry was the ages of the soldiers, some were barely 19 years old. The majority of the tombstones said 21-24 and very rarely did you find a soldier that had been 32 or 34. Another personal aspect of the Canadian cemetry were the inscriptions on the tombstones that had been put up by the families of soldiers. Some were just heart wrenching, others were beautiful. Sometimes the most comforting of thoughts can be uttered in just a few words.

We're on our way to Le Mont St. Michel right now, our last stop in Normandy before we head back home (a suburb of Paris called Bondy). Mag is driving as if possesed. We're both hungry, the last thing we ate was a croissant and coffee at 8 am. Can't wait to get there and eat. I hope you're all enjoying these reports. I have so much more to say but if I aim to write it all while I'm in France I'll definitely miss the opportunity to check out more stuff. Although, it has to be said that blogging is a much cheaper exercise than walking in the streets of France. Next stop, Le Mont St. Michell.

-------------

postscript:

I wrote this post a few days ago in the car as we travlled around Normandy. As I type it out a few days after the event, I am so thankful to Mag and my luck that I got to see these sites. I walked away from the cemetry with a renewed sense of my purpose in life, to make the lives of those who have suffered easier to bear.This was the jolt of self-belief and fiery yearning for self-actualisation that I desperately needed as I struggle to set my plans for Kashmir. She'll probably brush it off, but I'm indebted to Mag for this trip. God knows what she eats to put up with me all day. Even the meditating monks of Brooklyn should pay homage to this diety that is my gracious host. If for nothing else then for having taken me off their hands, however momentary their respite might be. What? I'm Rambling? let me ask you this, whose name is ON this blog? That's what I thought. Now be gone with your negative vibes!