I fiddle with my binder of travel tips and the itinerary on the bus from Charles de Gaulle Airport into Paris. I know I probably look as nervous as I feel, and the paper outlining all my need-to-knows is comforting. Of course, everyone is lovely. Austin squeezes my hand at one point, urging me to loosen up.
The trip starts quickly as we board the boat, unpacking bags and changing out of plane-worn clothes into something more appropriate and cleaner. Texas has plenty of its own interesting history, and I love my home state for it. But during our first few days in France, I would often look up at the buildings and marvel at just how everlasting some things are. Intricate churches in Rouen. Mirrors that Marie Antoinette looked into at Versailles.
Abbaye de Saint-Wandrille, which took hundreds of years to build and still stands today, housing a monastery and monks who brew their own beer. We are the largest alumni group traveling on this trip, and you can tell. Our travelers also remind me of home, bringing their Texan hospitality everywhere we go, whether helping someone traverse loose cobblestones or sharing stories over dinner on the ship each night.
Then we arrive in Le Havre, the day before we were to learn all about D-Day. Five thousand civilians died; 80, lost their homes. And between and , the city was almost completely rebuilt. I look out the window at the architecture and try to imagine what it must have looked like before.
I know how lucky I am. The next day we visit the Normandy American Cemetery and Memorial where nearly 10, Americans are buried. As our guide walks us through, she stops us under a flagpole and shows us pictures of some of the men and women who served that day. Heads bow, hats quietly come off, and more than a few tears fall.
