I have never felt much for France or the French. Ironically, I have more French blood than any other but English and Norwegian, yet have never felt any sort of affinity for the place or the people. Through movies and literature I have a strong attraction to the south of France and the beautiful countryside and “provincial” living they have there (as for the name, Provence was the first Roman province outside of Italy), but Paris has only been a minor draw for me. Lisa, on the other hand, loves France. She particularly loves Paris, and has been here many times to satisfy — and feed — her affection for it. So I knew when we began planning this adventure that a large segment would be spent in Paris.

But ever since we had decided to begin our adventure in Paris, I have been determined to take a side trip northwest to Normandy. Ever since I was a child watching documentaries and movies about WWII I’ve wanted to visit the place where so many sacrificed everything for the noble cause of freedom. I’ve wanted to stand on the shores where they struggled and see the things that many of them saw as their last. I’ve always felt a strong and sacred reverence for those who’ve fought and died in honor (particularly Americans, being the patriot I am) — had their lives cut short, leaving families, wives, and girlfriends to spend a lifetime of grief over them. So a weekend in Normandy was in the plans.

Lisa has a special talent for planning excursions and with little persuasion she began a rough assembly of places and things to see. I thought it might be nice to go over Memorial Day weekend, since, well, it’s Memorial Day. But after a little digging Lisa let me know that not only was the anniversary of the Normandy landings coming up, but it was the 65th anniversary and likely to be the last one many of the surviving veterans would attend. What luck! We delayed the trip to June 5-7, the 6th being the D-Day anniversary.

We have been spending a lot of time on our work projects and touring Paris as much as possible so we decided to take this weekend a little more loosely than even we typically do. (We usually plan our trips very loosely because we like to leave room for flexibility to change our plans.)

Getting Out of Paris

We rented a little Peugeot very similar to the one that we’ve purchased for this trip (and will pick up on Sunday) from a local rental agency and began the nearly three hour drive northwest to Normandy. Traffic in Paris is not all that different from New York City, especially in rush hour. There are the drivers who are overly cautious, those that are frankly not fit for the road, and those such as taxis and sports cars who are certainly driving too wildly for the conditions. The roundabout surrounding the Arc de Triomphe is particularly harrowing, as the roundabouts we like are usually no more than 2, maybe 3 lanes wide. In this one, there can be 8 or more cars side-by-side going roundabout, each constantly darting in and out of each other, cutting each other off, merging without looking, stopping suddenly, or changing their minds simultaneously, all trying to make their respective exit of the 12 available. It’s a huge, high-speed, metallic mosh pit.

We continued past the Arc on the Champs Elysees toward the Grande Arche de la Defense, the giant square arched monument/office building in the business center of Paris. Before you reach the monument, the highway cuts underground and heads out of town.

Not far out of town, civilization dwindles to a minimum, giving way to sprawling green farms with tiny towns that dot the countryside. Our route passed Giverny where Claude Monet lived and painted some of his most famous works, including all of those in his garden with the red bridge over the pond full of water lillies. You know the ones. But that will be another trip, or this trip a little later on. Getting closer to Normandy, the flat landscape becomes one of rolling hills and larger farms. It reminded us of Scotland, which we loved so much, and pictures we’ve seen of Ireland where we haven’t yet been. The place reminded me of a beautiful lyric by Marillion, “a tattered necklace of hedge and trees on the southern side of the hill, betrays where the border runs between, where Mary Dunoon’s boy fell”. These same lines of hedge and trees were considered by Eisenhower to be one of the most difficult aspects of warfare on that land as their mass and shadows kept countless snipers and enemy forces well hidden at frequent intervals, and taking that land was both slow and very costly in lives.

Our Little Cottage by The Sea

As we always do on our excursions, we reported first to our lodgings, a little farmhouse conversion with cottages in the back, to drop off our belongings and then headed out to see the sights. Our first taste of the commemoration events was turning onto a small country road and finding ourselves following a vintage 1940’s U.S. Army Jeep meticulously restored and flying a Old Glory from its tall antenna. We drove in formation for some miles before we broke off to drive along the coast towards our planned destination of Utah Beach, which is on the far west side of the D-Day beach areas.

On the way we passed through the small town of Insigny-sur-Mer. It was full of vintage vehicles, Jeeps, motorcycles, trucks, personnel carriers, etc. all parked around the tiny circular town square. We pressed on westward and arrived not long before dark at Utah Beach.

Utah Beach

Much like a massive rock concert, the parking extended a half mile away from the beach itself and we walked quickly to catch as much light as possible. When we arrived to the event area in the grass and dunes near the beach, a ceremony was already underway honoring the veterans who were present. US military, French military, and government officials paraded by the crowd to the recently Utah Beach Museum where they broke ground for a new wing that is being financed by the son of an American Normandy Beach veteran. Afterward, we beat the crowd down to the beach itself where coordinated fireworks in 25 different locations across all of Normandy’s beaches soon began. Certainly not the biggest or most impressive round of fireworks we’ve ever seen, but the special meaning of the time and place, with the coordination along the many beaches, made it very memorable.

After stopping by a closed McDonald’s on the way home, and camping out in front to use their WiFi for a while, we returned to our small cottage on the farm and turned in for the night with big plans for the following day.

More to come…