Thrilled at last to be
done sorting the mobile and packing, as well as the last 2 months
intensive work projects, we head for the boat. By degrees it is
beginning to sink in, only now, that we are really doing this.
Arriving in Rosslare, we drove onto the boat, dumped our gear in the
cabin, picked out a spot and plonk down beside the soft play area. When
the ferry gets underway, after a short delay, we all wave and shout
goodbye to Ireland, Wicklow, Granma, Sorcha, all our friends, Tayto and
our house. Bedtime for me was early, as the boat started to roll a bit,
only continuing until we past land's end, the rest as they say, was
plain sailing. our 2 year old woke once in the night, a bit unsettled by
his surroundings. It was very calm by morning but it dragged a bit
waiting to get to France.
Driving easily off the boat and en route, we shouted hellos to France,
and goodbye to our ferry, heading almost immediately to a supermarket
for breakfast and lunch things Francais.
I'll leave Mike, the gastronomic expert, or obsessive, to continually
fill you in on what we eat. We wanted to let the children have as much
time outside in the afternoon before attempting a bit of night driving
to get some miles South. So we headed for the coast and Mike spotted
signs to Utah beach, which he was very keen to visit. He and the kids
went off while I did a bit of sorting, and so when I could join them to
look around and read the inscriptions, I was very unprepared for the
place.
I think the "Plage d'Embarcements" are
not places to be visited lightly. The reality of what happened there
hits you immediately and I was fighting tears, reading even the simplest
of signs, including a little road named after some Private. Also it's an
odd juxtaposition to have kids there, as their innocence and the
exuberant games which became war games, after Mike attempted to explain
the setting, seemed both life-affirming while simultaneously irreverent.
We were surprised for the time of year at the number of mainly American
visitors, who luckily smiled as we made our way back to the camper,
stealthily crossing the enemy car park, avoiding, not always
successfully, enemy artillery.
Evening
After our tea at Utah Beach, everyone
got comfy for a long night drive which lasted until about midnight. I
drove lots with Mike doing a late stint, finding it hard. So we pulled
off the road before Orleans. The landscape was vast and flat, big plowed
fields, tiny villages, after a few km we found one with a little road
leading to a dead end in a field. So we pulled into the field, at which
point, bedlam erupted. We meant to stop earlier and pre-sort the van for
beds. Instead, we had to sift through debris of toys, move children,
mainly all onto my knee. our 4 year old had wet himself, and everybody
howled for the 20 minutes it took to get the beds out. Just as things
were quieting down, two men arrived with torches. Mike and I thought,
"oh, no, they're going to make us move!" In fact when I popped open the
door to chat, they seemed embarrassed to be checking us out, explaining
they'd seen the lights and heard the noise |
The ferry was
quiet and the crossing was calm. In the morning it was a long wait until
we got to France. I passed on the prewrapped cuisine de France pan au
chocolate as I wanted to wait for the
real thing.
Off the ferry, no one manning customs or immigration or looking for pet
passports, so we arrived on the French roads - driving on the right so I
get to start. We drew a rune (from Ralph Blum's Book of Runes and
appropriately got the blank one, which signifies the end of something
and the beginning of something entirely new.
Seeing as we have left schedules, our home and much of our
responsibilities (except for the 4+woof we brought with us), we do have
a sort of blank slate as we drive away from Ireland and to somewhere
new.
Auchan hypermarket in Cherbourg got us food, lots of croissants and pan
au chocolate, baguettes, hard cheese from Anecee (where Sam, our au pair
from years ago, was from), wine, cider and new shoes for the kids. Then
we headed off to see how far we could get while they were in good form.
Not long after, our 2 year old was unhappy so we made for the beach, and
fortuitously we were at that point very close to Utah Beach. So I took
the kids to see the tanks, boat and monuments and then onto the beach
itself, drawing illustrations for our eldest in the sand of a military
attack and defense of a beach. Suzie stayed and retidied the new
purchases into the already packed camper. Then we all had a picnic and a
walk around again.
I felt affected by the history-changing significance of the place and
the personal stories that were implied by the engraved lists of names. I
walked along the beach and tried to see things from the perspective of a
soldier landing, under fire, on this same sand.
The choice to join WWII feels so straightforwardly
right, compared to the
ambiguity of conflicts now. The well-preserved tank, so solid in front
of us, with "USA" printed on the side and BF Goodrich tires: it was good
feeling proud to be an American - I don't feel that way very often.
I'm writing this on the road to Caen as the kids play games with their
stuffed animals in the back. Cal at their feet resting quietly; she
seems to have forgiven us for her long stay in the car on our overnight
crossing. |
