Verdun: Capitale Mondiale de la Paix - World Capital of Peace

Upon my arrival in Verdun, I paused at the base of the massive staircase leading up to the Victory Monument (Monument à la Victoire et aux Soldats de Verdun.)  An elderly man (I must really attract them in France) approached me and asked if I was a visitor.  I replied yes, that I was touring the city and battlefields for the day.  "Vous n'êtes pas d'ici." He exclaimed, noting my accent. "You're right, I'm an American, working in France at the moment." I replied.  He seemed quite delighted that I was visiting his town, and proceeded to give me a narrative of the historic monument before me, and of the Battle of Verdun, during WWI, one of the bloodiest battles in human history, ending the lives of a quarter million.  He spoke with such conviction, I began to wonder if he was a tourist guide, or merely a proud citizen of Verdun.  "I'd best be on my way," he said eventually, "But I ask you to remember throughout your visit that Verdun is a World Capital of Peace."  I had seen that expression on road signs on my trip into town, and to hear those words spoken sent chills through my body. Those words of hope were a beacon of light, leading the Lorraine region into the longest period of peace it has ever known. 

Throughout the day, I wandered the city of Verdun, and then the battlefields and cemeteries.  Seeing the rows of white crosses converging on the horizon, I noticed a striking resemblance to Arlington National Cemetery... but here in Verdun, all of these deaths were the product of one battle, fought from February through December of 1916.  The city has been mostly restored, but surrounding villages have been obliterated, never to be rebuilt. 

Arriving at the Meuse-Argonne American Cemetery approximately 30 kilometers away from Verdun, the horrors of war became personal when I saw a grave marker of a soldier from Michigan, my home state.  He became more than an anonymous white cross among over 14,000 resting in the cemetery.  I lingered at his grave, touching the white stone, imagining the life he knew and the dreams he never would.  While the French and German cemeteries were moving, it wasn't until I was standing among the fallen from my own country that I truly began to grasp the magnitude of the war.  For every uniform grave stone, I imagined the ripple effect that death would cause.  For each person that violently lost his life, how many mourning family members and friends did he leave behind?  How many children would never be fathered? Suddenly, even the countless seemed insufficient, because the number of lives destroyed far exceeds those memorialized in the cemeteries.  

In Verdun, the ground and buildings still bear the scars of explosions, but nature has blanketed the earth with grass and flowers.  I expected to be plagued by the echoes of screams and explosions, but instead encountered the greatest serenity.  The place has been softened without diminishing in any way the events that took place, which seems impossible to imagine until you've actually been to Verdun.  My experience in Verdun, while at times tear-filled, was a healing one, because of the determination to continue the reign of peace.

As spoken by General John J. Pershing, "Time will not dim the glory of their deeds."

Le Monument aux Enfants de Verdun morts pour la France

The Monument to Children of Verdun who died for France

The city of Verdun, and the River Meuse

Monument à la Victoire et aux Soldats de Verdun.

Victory Monument

Overlooking Verdun from the top of the Victory Monument

The cathedral still bears the scars of battle

Hard to believe that the cathedral was so badly 

bombed that the roof collapsed.

The Cathedral towers

Memorial made of helmets

Ossuaire de Douaumont, which contains the unknown remains of French and German soldiers.

Inside the Ossuary 

Verdun Memorial

French cemetery

Graves of Algerian Muslims killed in the war

Memorial at the Trench of the Bayonets (Tranchée des Baïonnettes)

A unit of French troops was buried alive by shell bursts, leaving only their rifles protruding above the ground.

Inside the trench of the Bayonets

Meuse-Argonne American Cemetery 

Meuse-Argonne American Cemetery

 

A fallen soldier from Michigan brought the war to a personal level.

Meuse-Argonne American Cemetery 

The Christmas Markets of Saarbrücken, Germany

Why do I love living in the Lorraine region? Take today, for example. I was working on my final essay for the grueling French Literature class I'm taking, and Hélène walked in and said, "You look like you need a break... So, wanna go to Germany?" An hour later, we were there.

We arrived in the town of Saarbrücken, which is a very ordinary German town near the French border.  It's not exactly a tourist paradise, but Hélène and Nicolas wanted me to experience the Christmas markets (Christkindlmarkt in German), which are often less expensive than the French variety.  We had an absolute blast strolling through the wooden chalets of Christmas decorations while sipping hot glüwein and nibbling on pretzels, sausages, and chocolate covered bananas!  The city was beautifully lit for Christmas, and the cold was a distant memory as we huddled for warmth around our hot drinks, laughing and singing along to familiar holiday melodies. 

I have a true family here. It's hard to believe that we've only known one another for a few months, because it seems like we've been laughing like this together for years.  

My first French Strike!

Although my school week had been going significantly better, I was nevertheless delighted to receive an email last night which said all schools in Metz would be closed today (Friday) due to a massive strike by French farmers.  How very French indeed! And, I might add, how courteous of them to schedule it in advance!

Today, throughout France, over 70,000 farmers participated in the demonstrations protesting the plummeting price of their produce, demanding that Sarkozy keep his promises to offset their losses. Of the 7,000 tractors that formed convoys to disrupt traffic throughout France, nearly 2,000 were in Metz alone.  Public transportation in the downtown was crippled as the parade of tractors and protesters snaked their way through Metz.  

I joined fellow English assistants Kappes and Cole for a bit of 'tractor spotting' which involved mounting a hill in the park to observe the action below. From what we could see, the protest remained peaceful. Colorful banners denouncing French President Nicolas Sarkozy, effigies hanging from gallows, and even a woman dressed as a cow joined the masses who gathered. From our perch on the hilltop, a line of tractors extended as far as the eye could see.  These tractors came from all over Lorraine, which means many traveled quite a respectable distance to come to Metz.  Only in France are striking union workers provided a free lunch break!  At the beginning of their route, a huge station was distributing free baguette sandwiches, beer, water, and Orangina to the protesters.  Over loud speakers, protest leaders announced the arrival of each group of tractors from neighboring towns.  News crews also arrived on the scene to document the protest.  

I found the whole situation rather fascinating, as I have NEVER witnessed a strike on this scale at home in the States.  I had many errands to run throughout the day, and at various points in town I noticed scores of police clothed in riot gear, waiting behind shields in case the demonstration took a turn for the worst.  Thankfully, I didn't witness or hear about any violence, so I assume that all went well!  I continue to feel so fortunate to live in Metz, where all the action is... 

Mom, Dad, I'm really not trying to add more gray hairs to your heads! I'm safe, not to worry!

Tractor convoy lining up

Police awaiting the protest on a bridge over the Moselle River

News crew

A gruesome effigy says "Merci l'Europe!"

Sandwich and beer distribution in the gathering place for protestors

More tractors