Le prix de la liberté

This post should have been written almost a week ago, while everything was still fresh, but I’ve been so busy between school, socializing and sightseeing I haven't had time to sit down and write it. Feel bad for me, won’t you? While I don’t think I’d ever want to pursue a career as a teacher, I’ve got to say that I really like this job. Thursdays in particular are always such great days because the kids are always so excited to work with me and really get into the activities. Last Thursday with one group of 6ème we worked on frequency (i.e. often, sometimes, rarely, never, etc.) and routines. I did a game with them where they had to mime the activity that I said – brush your teeth, wash your hands, sweep the floor, watch TV, etc. – and once I made it into a competition they really got into it. Even though they have them here, the winners got Silly Bandz, which made them even happier. At the end of the hour when I saw their teacher again, she told me that the group that I had before she took them for the second half hour was whining about how they weren’t getting to mime with her too. Maybe to these kids I’m the American Game-master, because with another group of 6ème I played a game called “Effacez” that I took from my high school French teacher. I wrote the words for certain foods on the board in French and then said the word in English, but they had to smack the right word before the person on the opposing team. Again they really got into it, running in place with hands at the ready, and just to mess with them a little I used some dramatic pauses like they do on “Who Wants to be a Millionaire?” The lycée kids make me feel old and young at the same time; old because for a couple of classes, I was in kindergarten or first grade when they were born and young because they look way older than me. Actually, now that I think about it, I’ve seen kids in collège rocking full-on mustaches. I’m pretty sure I could not shave for a month and I still wouldn’t have a ‘stache. Not complaining at all though, let’s hope it stays this way. Must be the good genes *cough* yeah my nose is pretty tan.

Last Friday I went to a 22nd birthday party for Elsa, one of the students from my BTS classes. Benjamin, their ginger friend (no joke, they call him ‘le roux’) gave her a lap dance sporting a mankini from Borat, and the 30 or so of us there saw more of him than we needed to. I couldn’t stay very long because I knew that the next morning I had to get up early to travel with Jean-François and Sylviane, but I stayed long enough to get invited to go clubbing in Paris (they told me I can’t leave France without going out in Paris). Also they told me that they’re going to have a party for me before I leave. I have to say, either the stereotype about French people not letting outsiders into their group of friends is false, I’m really cool, or I was just lucky to meet a nice group of kids (it’s N°3).

Saturday morning came way too early. Qunxing and I were outside waiting for them before the sun was even up. Our first stop: Bayeux. Bayeux is most famous for the Bayeux Tapestry, sometimes called “La Tapisserie de la Reine Mathilde,” which depicts the events leading up to the Norman conquest of England. The tapestry dates back to the 11th century, and was supposedly made by Queen Matilda, the wife of William the Conqueror, and her ladies-in-waiting. It’s hard to fathom how long it must have taken them to make this when you see how big it is and how detailed the scenes are. I really like the story of William the Conqueror, not only because he was a BAMF, but also because his story shows you that with enough hard work you really can make a name for yourself. Before his conquest of England, he was called “William the Bastard”; quite an improvement, huh?

How you could cross the ocean in these, I'll never know.

After we’d finished at the museum for the tapestry, we headed over to the Bayeux Cathedral. The cathedral was consecrated in 1077 although the site was once occupied by Roman sanctuaries. While in the cathedral, with Jean-François as our tour guide, I learned how to distinguish Gothic from Roman and Greek architecture as well as the following fun facts: all cathedrals (and maybe churches in general, I forget the exact word he used) are built in the shape of a cross, and the altar faces Jerusalem. Essentially all of the cathedrals in Europe have crypts dating back to times when practicing any sort of religion was forbidden. There also used to be a divider that separated the public from the altar so that parishioners could hear, but not see, the members of the clergy (again I forget what the name of it was in French, I need to start putting a notebook in my pocket).

Bayeux Cathedral.

In the crypt. 

About 20 minutes after we left Bayeux, I was back on American soil at the Normandy American Cemetery and Memorial where some 9,387 American servicemen that died in World War II are honored. While I’m sure everyone has seen pictures of this place in their middle school and high school history books, nothing compares to actually being there. As soon as I got out of the car, I could immediately tell that we were back in America. Perfectly manicured lawns and shrubbery, edged grass, and signs in English first and French second all confirmed that we weren’t in France anymore. The first thing I saw was the time capsule. To be opened on June 6, 2044, it contains news reports of the June 6, 1944 Normandy landings by the newsmen who were there. Jean-François commented that that will be a huge day for France and the United States, but it’s unlikely that he’ll make it to 94 to see it. As I processed that, I wondered what it’s going to be like for me on that day; who knows where I’ll be or what I’ll be doing, the only thing that’s certain is that I’ll be 55. How will I feel and what will I remember when I flashback to March 12, 33 years before? It’s a scary thought.

Once we rounded the corner, I purposely avoided looking to my left at all of the headstones. I could see the flags waving in the breeze, but I didn’t want to look below the tree line until I had read about the invasion. War-related history never really interested me, sure I memorized the dates and some battles way back when, but I was unaffected by it – it happened way before my time and I hadn’t know anyone who’d been there, so what did it have to do with me? After I’d finished reading about D-day and the events leading up to it, I finally turned left and looked out onto the 172.5 acre cemetery and its rows upon rows of white marble headstones.

At the time I was feeling an emotion that I’ve never felt before, and I still don’t know exactly what it was; maybe a combination of awe, disgust, pride, remorse and anger, but none of them uniquely. As we wandered through the cemetery, no matter what direction you looked, the headstones formed a perfectly straight line. It was eerily quiet, the only sounds coming from birds chirping, the wind and the sea. On our way back to the Visitors Center we walked along Omaha Beach. Again it was strange and hard to imagine such a beautiful place a little more than 66 years before as being the site of intense and brutal fighting. Sylviane pointed out the cliffs further up the beach and told me how the Allied forces had been decimated as they tried to scale them. Then, as we were looking at the map, she showed me a town famous for the story of one paratrooper who had landed on the church’s bell tower during a mission. He was up there for two days and had to watch in horror as the Germans killed all of his comrades on the ground (the Germans didn’t need to look up, so he went unnoticed). He also went deaf because of the bells in the tower.

Omaha Beach.

The Visitors Center was excellent. It was free, but I would have gladly paid 20€ to get in. You could easily spend the entire day there reading everything and watching all the different films. It was incredibly moving; I had goose bumps almost the entire time. The pictures you see in books and what you learn in school doesn’t do it justice. The feeling you get from being there, from walking amongst the graves, and from seeing the faces and learning the stories of the soldiers who fought there is indescribable. These were great men who gave up everything, crossed an ocean and fought to free people they’d never even met.

As improbable as it may seem to you readers at home, the two and a half hours spent on American soil in France have changed my life more than I ever would have expected. I’ve realized a newfound appreciation for everything that I have and just how much others have had to sacrifice so that I can have the life I have today.

By the time we left the Visitors Center, there was no hope of finding a restaurant that would still be serving lunch, so we stopped off at a small fishing town up the coast to get some sandwiches. Once we’d finished eating, we continued on to Longues-sur-Mer to see some of the German cannons. Although they’re all rusty now, when you’re behind one you can almost imagine what it must have been like to be in control of one. We also visited a small German blockhouse that looks out over the cliffs. Sylviane, who was raised nearby in Caen, told us that back in the ‘60s they converted some of the blockhouses into nightclubs (just to give you an idea of how big some of these are). Arromanches was our next stop, most famous for its “Mulberry Harbor” (a temporary harbor) developed to offload cargo to ships during the invasion. They used a series of massive concrete blocks called caissons, together with pontoons and steel frames to form temporary bridges. Jean-François and Sylviane thought that it was important that I see these because they say that in 10 or 15 years they won’t be there anymore grâce à erosion.

In the blockhouse.

You can see what's left of the ring of concrete blocks.

Our last and final stop of the trip was Caen – home to the Château de Caen, built circa 1060 by William the Conqueror. We also stopped off at the Abbaye aux Hommes, completed in 1063 and also the final resting place of William the Conqueror. By the time we left the Abbaye, it was getting dark and it was starting to rain, so we headed back to Louviers.

Château de Caen.

William the Conqueror's tomb.

The week flew by, and despite bad tennis on Monday, a terrible class of 6ème on Tuesday, and some sort of lingering sickness, it has been a pretty good one. Thursday I did Saint Patrick’s Day with a couple of my classes; riverdance was a hit, as was trying to get them to say “leprechaun” and “shamrock” (sounded like “leprocharrrran” and “sharrrharak”). Thursday evening I was treated to lamb and couscous at one of my teacher’s house. We started with a soup made of carrots, red lentils, leeks and celery root (which I’ve never seen in the United States), followed by the couscous with chick peas, zucchini, carrots, leeks, and some spices, and then finally the lamb. All of this was served with mint tea and a really nice nine year-old pinot noir from Alsace (cue wine snobbery). Top it off with an obligatory cheese plate and fresh mangos for dessert et voilà!

This weekend I’m traveling with Jean-François and Sylviane again, but I hope this time it won’t take me a week to get the recap up. The rest of the assistants went for a night out in Rouen, but you can’t do everything. It’s tough being in demand.