Crossing the Channel

12 June

The alarm rang at 6:45 a.m.
All Quiet on the Western Front this morning in Ypres, Belgium.
I didn't want to leave.

I had not seen it all, nor heard all of the stories, but I still had to fill up the car with gas before returning it to the Hertz in the Lille, France, train station.  We had packed last night, and at 7 this morning lugged the bags down the steep, slanted stairs of the Hotel Ambrosia.

What an ironic name, now that I think of it.  Only hotel I've ever been in with a machine dispensing beer and wine as well as soda.  Vincent had told the breakfast cook we'd be down early, and we grabbed some Pain au Chocolate to go.  Such wonderful hosts.

The country lanes turned into four lane highways, then we hit the commuter traffic outside of Lille and took 45 minutes to go 8 miles.  One way streets and few gas stations meant the one we did find had to suffice. However, the pump did not take Visa, MasterCard, ATM or cash.  Not a human to be found.  Surrounded by skyscrapers and honking horns, we couldn't fill up Rennie.  The additional charge would be almost 100 Euros.  It was clear on the contract.  American Express would have worked.  We left Rennie in the parking garage and scurried to the Eurostar, looking for a cup of coffee.  Security was simple, and we were on our way.

Floating over the French Flanders Fields to the chunnel, and thinking. Lille considers itself the capital of Flanders, and it's easy to see why in terms of topography.  With or without a border, this flat landscape including Belgium and France will always be linked in history.  Belgium declared itself neutral when WW1 began, but instead it became central to the outcome of the bloodiest war in history.  Between 1914-1918, 10 million soldiers lost their lives, and another 7 million civilians were casualties.  Historians estimate the deaths of no fewer than 37 million humans were caused by this war, an unfathomable definition of collateral damage.

If I lived here, I'd be driving by WW1 cemeteries every day.  They are unavoidable.  It is clear why the Belgians are so anti-war.  Never again, I would think, every time I saw the perfectly tended cemeteries.  Yet they are so vibrant, welcoming, and energetic as a people.  Our host Linda in Poperinge took the time to wash the street lamp electrical box one morning as she cleared her patio for the morning coffee crowd.  Vincent sat down with me in his lobby and explained the next renovations he planned for his hotel, and how his 12 bicycles for rent were a surprise supplement to his income.  Industrious, proud, and warm they were.

We have many hours of trains today, and I have many incomplete blogs to finish as we travel.  I rushed around Flanders Fields, looking for yet another bit of buried treasure, hurrying so brutal reality would not soak in.  Now, I need time to think. Tomorrow, I will rest in beautiful Exeter, Devon.