Tanks In Town

When we lived in Virginia I always wondered about the Civil War reenactors who would flood old battlefields each year. Because we were south of the Mason-Dixon line there seemed to be more Confederates than Yankees but the later were still present. I wondered whether the (mostly) men who played war were history buffs reenacting the stories of their forefathers or simply liked to get dressed up and play war. At the time I naively thought this was some weird American phenonenum. But then I moved to Belgium, the heart of battles in both world wars and realized that Americans have nothing on their European counterparts when it comes to war reenactments.

This past weekend was the annual Tanks In Town event here in Mons. Tanks In Town commemorates the liberation of Mons by American forces during World War II and this reenactment is the ultimate in big boys and their even bigger toys. For three days tanks, jeeps, amphibious vehicles and every other form of World War II artillery descend on the Mons region for one big party celebrating the region's liberation from Nazi control. There are reenactments, camps and parades throughout the region. A huge flea market selling everything from period uniforms and weapons to cheap Chinese produced knock offs runs the length of several city blocks. And the culmination of the events is a Sunday evening procession of all of the military vehicles into the Grand Place in Mons.

Amphibious vehicle making its way back on shore

Tanks In Town was one of the events we have been hearing about since we arrived here so we made it a point of taking in the festivities. On Saturday we joined the crowds in watching the launch of amphibious vehicles in the canal. It was pretty amazing to see these lumbering vehicles make their way from shore into the water and back. After their initial splash into the water I had to wonder how they could stay afloat. After the amphibious demonstration we made our way to the large encampment that served not only as a stationary exhibitors for visitors to tour but the actually sleeping place for many of the weekend's reenactors. An expansive wooden area had been converted into a World War II era camp for the weekend. Scattered amongst the trees were tank, tents, jeeps and other machinery. Soldiers lounged around campfires, healed the wounded in makeshift hospitals and answered questions from inquisitive guests. And of course there were the tanks; they tore around a muddy track splattering dirt and debris on those who stood to close. Up until this point I had never been this close to a moving tank and was surprised at how their sound echoed through the woods and make the ground shake long after they passed. These certainly weren't vehicles that were used in stealthy maneuvers. Other tanks were stationary with visitors being invite to sit on and explore their formidable features. Then there were the reenactors themselves. Men, women and children, young and old alike were dressed in period costumes. Many visitors had even gotten into the spirit of things by dressing in their own period costumes. And of course because this is Belgium the camp included some no-so-period beer and frites (French fry) trucks.

Sidney and the tanks roaring into town

But my favorite part of the event was the next day. This is when these tanks came rumbling into Mons' cobblestone covered Grand Place, replicating the actions taken by American troops 70 years ago. A bus full of the veterans who helped liberate Mons were present as special guests. We were lucky to snag a front row seat at a cafe and with our bottle of wine (and orange Fanta for the little one) we watched the spectacle that is Tank in Town. We heard the tanks long before we saw them. First came the procession of jeeps, troop carriers and ambulances filled with waving soldiers and their pretty young women. Then came the motorcycles driven by grizzly goggle clad men with their coats flapping behind them and the amphibious vehicles. Finally there were the tanks. They rumbled up the narrow streets and into the square. Because of our great location Sidney was swept over the barrier by a soldier and placed atop a tank for a few minutes.

I know this was a reenactment but it was impossible not to get caught up in the cheering and spirit of the moment. People in the crowd hung out of windows high above the square waving flags and cheering on the liberating troops. Once the tanks filled the square the barriers were lifted and the crowds joined the troops and tanks. The SHAPE band played big band music while people danced, drank and had their pictures taken. The atmosphere was truly festive. I can only imagine what it must have been like to actually be here in Mons during the liberation. But since I wasn't there I'm lucky that I got to experience this reenactment. It is events like this that make living here in Belgium so special.

Grand Place filled with tanks, troops and people

The lone U.S. Navy representative

Hi fiving soldier

Reclining Rights

There's been a lot of news about poor airplane behavior lately. Within the past two weeks alone there have been at least three highly publicized incidents of fights between passengers over the right to recline one's seat. One passenger wants to recline their seat, the passenger behind them doesn't like the idea and an argument ensues. Sometimes they simply can't because the seat is blocked by a rather ingenious (?) hideous (?) completely self serving knee saving device; other times the seat does recline but verbal or even physical assaults result. So who is in the right and who is in the wrong? I guess it depends upon where you are sitting (literally).

I'll be the first to agree that the customer service standards of American airlines leave a lot to be desired. There really isn't any comparison between a European or Asian flagged carrier and an American one. The ticket prices might be higher on the former flights but you get what you pay for; free checked luggage, complementary food and drinks and larger seats while the American airlines are increasingly nickel and diming their passengers by charging for everything. I do find it ironic that a country with one of the the largest obesity problems has airlines that are increasingly pinching their customers into smaller seats. Is this a hint......

I should preface all of this by stating that although I am a frequent traveler, I am fortunate that I don't have long legs so leg room is never really an issue for me. That said, I am still not a fan of the person in front of my reclining their seat into what I consider to be my space. But, and this is a big but, if their seat reclines I believe they should have the right to recline it. They paid for it so they can do what they like with it. The same goes for arm rests; if I want mine down I don't think it should be raised simply because the person next to me needs more space. If you know you need more space, pay for it.

The airline industry is a for-profit business. If they choose to have narrow seats, seats that don't recline, or charge for each bag you carry onto the plane, those are business decisions. As customers we can choose to accept their terms or not. The last time I checked no one has ever been forced to get on an airplane; rather they choose to because it is convenient, they feel as though they have to get from point A to point B or they want to go someplace as cheaply as they can. As a paying customer if I don't like what the airline is offering I will choose another one. You get what you pay for so if I want a larger seat with more room I will pay for an upgrade. If I chose to buy the cheapest ticket possible I will carry on my size and weight restricted bag, sit in my narrow seat and make the best of the flight. After all, the flight won't last forever. Maybe going the way of Sprint Airlines, who has disabled the reclining mechanism in all of their seats, is the way to go. Their flights are still full and no planes are being diverted over arguments over the seats.

But at the end of the day it comes down to common courtesy. Follow the rules set out by the airline. If something is forbidden on the flight (I'm talking about those knee saving devices) then don't think you are so special that the ban doesn't apply to you. Treat others as you want them to treat you. Even on long haul flights, I personally choose not to recline my seat so I can be considerate of the person behind me. (The one time I did recline was on an Alitalia flight from Boston to Rome. I was holding my son, who had just fallen asleep on my shoulder. The minute I reclined my seat the man behind me slammed my seat back so hard that it jolted my baby awake. He proceeded to cry for the remaining flight which I considered to be enough sweet justice to the man seated behind us). If the flight is diverted because of unruly passengers, don't get angry at the airline because you think their seats are too small; blame the passengers. If you don't like it, don't fly. No one is forcing you to board that plane.

Life Lessons

As parents, we walk a fine line between sheltering our children from life's harsh realities and exposing them to the great big world out there while not adversely scarring them for life. While I don't believe in hiding or sugar coating reality, I struggle with knowing how much information to present in an age appropriate way. And as soon as I think I've figured it out, Sidney gets older, matures and is capable of understanding things at a whole new level. Regardless of his age or stage, we have five basic household tenets or rules that help guide us along. They are gentle reminders to all of us as to how we should be acting towards one another and the larger world around us. Sidney has embraced these rules and is quick to point out which ones he abides by and which ones he struggles with. He also does the same for the actions he sees around himself.  The rules are quite simple; beyond listening to your parents and respecting others one of the five is keeping the promises you make to both yourself and others. Simply put, if you make a promise, keep it. The rule applies to Sidney as well as us, and in his four year old way of thinking, other people as well. When he makes a promise he must keep it and when we make a promise we must do the same. Sounds easy, right? Well, maybe not.

We're always careful to not make promises we aren't sure we can keep. For things that aren't certainties, we caveat the proposed idea or event with a promise that we will do the best we can to make it happen. Sidney doesn't always hear that part and unfortunately we've had a few hiccups along the way that have left him crushed and disappointed. But for those things that we feel are a sure thing, we openly make the promise and tell him they will happen. And that is exactly what we did when we signed him up to play on a soccer league for 4 and 5 year olds.

Sidney loves soccer, or football as he often calls it. During the World Cup he proudly wore his Belgian soccer jersey while watching the games and spends hours in the backyard kicking his yellow and black soccer ball into the goal. After school Glenn, and occasionally I, will join him for kicking, dribbling and goal scoring. But as much fun as he has doing this, he keeps asking to play with other kids. If we were back in the United States, extra curricular activities for kids of his age would be plentiful. As we discovered this past spring, they are all but non-existent here in Belgium. So when I learned of a developmental soccer league specifically for kids his age, I signed him up and he was beyond excited. The league is run by the base youth services program and coached by volunteers but I was assured the league would start and the end of August. (I was even asked if I wanted to volunteer as a coach since having knowledge of the game is apparently not a prerequisite, but that is a story for another day). Having no reason to doubt what I was told---since this is a Department of Defense run organization, I excitedly told Sidney about his impending opportunity.  Now I signed him up back in June so all summer long getting to play soccer on a team was all he has been talking about. When we were back in the U.S. we went out and bought him his own soccer cleats (neon yellow just like the Belgian team) and he's been practicing putting them on and kicking the ball around in anticipation of joining his team. And in between his playing he told everyone he met that he was joining a soccer team. Yes, he was that excited.

When we hadn't heard anything from the organizers two weeks ago, we reached out to them only to be told we would hear from the coach the following week. When that didn't happen we called back and this time were given not only the name of the coach but the time, date and meeting location of the first practice. Having sent an email to the coach and hearing nothing, I got Sidney suited up for his first practice and headed to the designated spot. And boy was he excited and his excitement was contagious. That was until I saw the empty field with no coach and no players in sight. The other fields were filled with kids and coaches and while Sidney looked sadly on I did my best to figure out what was happening. Finally, after talking to the person who was in "charge" we left having been assured that we were in the right spot at the right time but something must have gone wrong and the coach would be there for the next practice. Sidney was crushed and my heart ached for him as he asked me why he couldn't play. He wanted to know why his coach hadn't kept her promise to be there because according to his rules, you always have to keep your promises. Hugging him closely I told him that I didn't know where she was but that I would look into it. That was a promise I could keep.

The next couple of days resulted in a flurry of (mostly) unanswered phone calls and emails but an assurance that we should indeed be at the field during the next designated practice time. And we were, fully dressed and excited, but this time I approached it with the caveat that I hoped the coach and team would be there. Sidney said he hoped so too and gripped my hand tightly as we once again approached the empty field. A last minute email and phone call revealed that there wasn't practice that day either but that the coach would "be in touch soon". As Sidney once again watched other kids kicking the ball around under the enthusiastic tutelage of their coach he simply said he wanted to go home. I could tell that he was dejected and promised him that his dad and I would play soccer with  him in the backyard when we got home. He smiled weakly and said he didn't want to play. Even the enticement of an ice cream treat did nothing to lift his spirits. Instead he reiterated that people who make promises need to keep them. Not doing so is just bad.

At that moment I was simultaneously heartbroken and proud of my little boy. Heartbroken since the one simple promise I had been making to him all summer wasn't becoming a reality. Not only that, his enthusiasm for playing the game seemed to be dwindling. Proud because of the maturity he was showing in a difficult situation. Instead of crying or whining he was simply accepting the reality as he saw it. As we walked back to the car he talked yet again of promises and their importance. I love Sidney's new found maturity yet it pains me that he had to reach it through such disappointing circumstances. I am disappointed that another parent would let down children in such a way and frustrated that an organization that runs youth activities was less than organized. (My disappointment is slightly tempered by the fact that at least this parent stepped forward to volunteer which is more than Glenn and I did). I wonder whether she has ever had to explain such disappointment to her own child. I now have and although I'm sure I will have to again, it is not an experience I care to repeat. Life's lessons are rarely easy and this one was just plain horrible.

So what next? We've been once again told that yes there will be practice next week. Despite any assurances we receive we'll be cautiously back on the soccer field next week. Hopefully this hiccup is behind us and the team and coach will be there ready to play. If not, unfortunately we have this routine down. If his long promised practice doesn't materialize I'm sure he will handle it with both sadness and his new found maturity. I will still ache for him; both for his sadness and his sudden understanding that not everyone keeps their promises...... And maybe, just maybe, I will take an online tutorial on coaching soccer and volunteer to coach myself during the next go around. That would be a promise I would be able to keep.

Its Complicated

Recently I was standing in a line making small talk with a fellow American tourist when I was asked where I was from. For me, and other military families, this is such a loaded question that I didn't even know where to begin with my answer. Is it where I live at the moment (Belgium)? But then some people think I'm Belgian. America? Is a generic "America" good enough or do people want more specifics? Is it where I grew up (Maine), where I first lived as an adult (Massachusetts) or where we first lived as a family (Virginia)? At one point Sidney was so confused that when posed with the "where are you from" question at the playground, he answered Albania. I quickly jumped in and corrected him but this led to his asking me where he was from since, up to that point, his only memories were of living in Albania. And the question is all the more confusing when we are together as a family. Glenn grew up in Maryland and went to college in New York before joining the Navy and spending time on both Coasts. And the tender age of 4 1/2 Sidney was born in one state, lived in two others (I'm cheating a bit and counting Washington D.C. as a state since we did live there for over one year) and has now lived in two European countries. So what is home anyway?

So how did I answer my fellow tourist? I took a deep breath and told him I lived in Belgium. He looked at me knowingly and asked if I was military. When I nodded in agreement he quickly added that he was retired from the Navy and listed several of the places he had once called home (including Virginia and Belgium). Here was someone who understood how loaded the question really is. It was like finding an unlikely soulmate in a sea of foreigners. But finding that type of understanding outside of our military community is rare.

Some days I look longingly at friends who are settled. From my perspective their living in a house they have owned for years, their children attending the same school with the same children for each grade and their ability to lay down permanent roots looks so comforting. They don't face the regular uncertainty of where they will end up next, whether the schools and the job will be acceptable and more importantly, what their new house and neighborhood will be like. On the flip side, I've had civilian friends comment about how exciting and even glamourous my life must be. From the inside, living this life certainly doesn't feel that way. Yes, with mobility comes opportunities and we take full advantage of them as they arise. But that doesn't negate the desire to not have to always be on the move. I'd love to not be continually packing and unpacking boxes, trying to make new friends and finding my way around a new community. Someday, someday.....

So where are we from? For the time being we live in the moment and home is where ever the Navy sends us. And at at the moment, that happens to be Belgium.

Le Mont-Saint-Michel Abbey

I loved our recent trip to Normandy, France and was moved beyond belief by the memorials and tributes to the historic events that happened here seventy years ago. But there is more to Normandy than World War II memorials and after two days of visiting cemeteries and battlefields, I was more than ready for a change of pace. So searching for something different, we set off to Normandy's the northwest corner to visit Mont-Saint-Michel and the famous Abbey.

Looking up

Mont-Saint-Michel is one of France's most recognizable landmarks and is a UNESCO World Heritage site that is visited by over 3 million people each year. It is a sight I've seen hundreds of times in travel magazines and websites but nothing could quite prepare me for the experience of seeing the Abbey looming on the horizon for the first time. One minute we were winding our way along narrow roads through apple orchards, cow filled fields and tiny villages. We came around one bend and saw a spire in the distance. As we drew closer we realized that rather than being the steeple of a village church, it was the spire on top of Mont-Saint Michel Abbey that we were seeing. We were still several kilometers from the island when the full Abbey and her environs came into view. Perched on a rocky outcrop between the tidal plains and the sea was our destination. And it was truly breathtaking. 

Cemetery within the grounds

The island itself is quite small; located approximately half a mile from the mainland, it encompasses 247 acres and as of 2009, had a permanent population of 44 residents. A fortification since ancient times due to its strategic location, a church was first built on the site in 709. At the request of the Duke of Normandy, a community of Benedictines settled here in 966, building the first pre-Romanesque church. During the 11th and 12th centuries the abbey was expanded and by the 14th century a perimeter wall was constructed around the entire area to help protect the Abbey from invading armies. During the French Revolution the Abbey served as a prison before being restored in the 19th century. The Abbey's close proximity to shore made it easily accessible for the millions of pilgrims who have flocked to here from its earliest days.

 A window with a view

The Abbey's position at the top of Mont-Saint-Michel is said to best exemplify the way a feudal society was structured--God on top, followed by the abbey and monastery then the great halls, shops and housing with the fishing village and farmer's housing located outside of the walls. Today shops and housing have been replaced by restaurants and trinket peddlers with the fishing village completely obliterated but all of Mont-Saint-Michel remains an impressive sight none the less.

Go prepared to walk; once you reach the island itself, there are hundreds of steps to climb. Upon entering the walls you are greeted by restaurants and shops catering to the tourists. My advise is to skip those and escape up one of the narrow winding staircases. Going to the right will take you up onto the town's walls; left takes you deeper into the heart of the Mont. Here you can follow narrow (as in only accessible to one person at a time) walkways as you make your way up, up, and farther up towards the Abbey itself. When you make it to the large veranda of the Abbey you are rewarded with panoramic views of both land and the sea. From here you can not only see the village below but also watch the tides as they race in at break neck speeds flooding the plain below. From the top the touristy commercialism that you first encountered feels miles away. But when you are ready you can slowly wind you way back down the hill and all of its steps. If you are so inclined you can even dine at one of the restaurants and shop for your souvenirs before hopping the bus or walking back to your car. I prefer walking since the views along the way are pretty spectacular.

Rooftop views towards land

and looking the other way towards the sea

If you go:

Centre des Monuments Nationaux

Abbaye du Mont-Saint-Michel

50116 Le Mont-Saint Michel, France

02 33 89 80 00

www.monuments-nationaux.fr

Free to walk through the Mont; admission to the Abbey is 9 Euro / adult, reduced rates for seniors, children and groups.

No cars are allowed on the island. Paid parking is available 2.5 kilometers away with free shuttle service until late at night. It is also possible to walk along a new pedestrian walkway. Any visit for Mont-Saint-Michel requires a lot of walking and a lot of stairs; this is not a handicapped accessible site.

Wordless Wednesday: Rain

Liberating Belgium- Cendron

Sign post marking the point where Allied troops entered
Belgium in 1944

For all of you World War II buffs out there (and by living in Belgium I'm quickly becoming one myself), today marks the 70th anniversary of the liberation of Cendron, Belgium. On this day in 1944 American troops crossed the border from France and entered Belgium for the first time.

In 1940 the Nazis established a headquarters in nearby (4 kilometers) Forge-Phillipe and thus began the long four year occupation by Hitler's forces. Entire villages were evacuated with the Germans building bunkers on the rolling farmland. Villagers were displaced, farms pillaged and life as Belgians knew it changed forever. So when the American troops came rolling over the border at 09.30 on the morning of  September 2nd, they were welcomed with great fanfare and open arms.

Today the village is little more than a handful of buildings and a monument commemorating their liberation that was dedicated in 1973. However, each year, in the days leading up to the anniversary of the liberation, local residents come out and celebrate. There are reenactments, period music and a grand march following in the footsteps of the liberating soldiers. Young and old, locals and the relatives of American liberators descend upon this tiny hamlet and celebrate.

We had heard about the celebrations this past weekend and decided to check them out since Sidney is all about seeing "the military" these days. Directions were spotty but we had been assured that we couldn't miss it so we found ourselves following small wooden signs as we wound down one narrow lane after another. And then suddenly we were there. American flags flew alongside Belgian ones and the pastures had been turned into makeshift parking lots. A small encampment of canvas tents had been erected in another field. Soldiers dressed in period costumes roamed the muddy streets and the sounds of Doris Day and the Andrew Sisters filled the air. We had arrived too late for the march but spent time checking out the jeeps and the memorial. We walked across the border into France and back again. We chatted with a Belgian soldier who, upon learning we were Americans, told us a bit about the day's events and about the other Americans who were also visiting.

The celebration had a local feel to it; it was missing the big bands and flashy details that I have come to expect at such events. But it all seemed so real. The people celebrating were mostly locals or those who had deep connections to the town. They were celebrating for themselves rather than putting on a show for the outside world. Even decades after the fact, their appreciation for the liberators (in this case Americans) felt genuine. For me, it felt special to be there.

And commemorations like this are happening all over Belgium, and Europe, this year. We are definitely going to make an effort to seek out and visit more celebrations like this. For us, they are once in a life time opportunities.

A liberator's jeep

"The first American troops entered Belgium at this point on
the 2nd of September 1944 at 09.30"

Memorial paying tribute to the Allied forces who
"beat down the monstrous Nazis"