Pure relaxation
Cyhoeddwyd: 15.09.2018
Tanysgrifio i'r Cylchlythyr
We are on our way home. Five days just pass too quickly. In principle, I don't like to look back with melancholy at the end of a holiday or at festivals - sadness does not extend, one should rather be happy, because only beautiful things pass by in a flash.
Nevertheless, although our tin can has been a pain in the neck and we have brought several bumps home as temporary souvenirs, we would have liked to extend it a bit more.
However, unlike our usual habit of planning everything down to the smallest detail, we have spent the past few days more or less planlessly and just let ourselves go. Unusual, but just right to achieve maximum relaxation in a short time (apart from Ida's attention-seeking). The rest mode was only temporarily interrupted when we tried to order a tolerable fish dish for me and a tasty one for everyone else in a port restaurant. Oh man, seven years of torture, and now I can't get a straight sentence out anymore. How good that Reinhard was able to order something more confidently, although his vocabulary let him down a bit when it came to the menu, and Lars unexpectedly (and unintentionally) had fried seafood on his plate. Sometimes you have to be forced to be lucky, because they tasted unexpectedly good.
Just before La Hargue is the second favorite place, a long pebble beach, protected by the cliffs of Cotentin.
We park the RVs directly on the beach on a field road nibbled by the surf, and spend the rest of the day sorting pebbles and letting the cool sea breeze blow around our ears. Hard to believe that at home it is still summery hot.
It is definitely too cold to swim here, but a stunt kite provides a lot of amusement, especially for us adults, as we watch Ida lose the battle within seconds and get knocked over by the force of the wind. Kite 1, Ida 0.
This part of Normandy is actually a bit more remote and wilder than the Manche area where we were before. Maybe the tourists are deterred by the nuclear/reprocessing plant. There is really no other explanation, the landscape is overwhelming, even if it is not very suitable for our little mouse.
Taking detours, uphill, downhill, past Porte Racine, the smallest harbor in France, along the Route des Caps, Lars and I return by racing bikes. With a water temperature of 18 degrees, we ended the day by splashing around and were rewarded with another cold shower. Damn it!!! This time we simply forgot to preheat, but the result is just as bad as last time.
On the way home, we quickly made a detour to a German military cemetery. A world of difference from the American memorial. Not only are more than twice as many soldiers buried on a quarter of the area, but this resting place also leaves a more lasting impression somehow. Maybe it's the German inscriptions on the crosses. Anytime, a familiar name could appear, a distant relative who finds their final rest here. Maybe it's the dates of birth and death: so many did not live to see their 18th birthday. Or maybe it's the fact that the entire setting screams of death. While the extremely well-kept American area, with its bright white crosses and the sea panorama, suggests eternal heroism, the German cemetery rather creates the impression of the perpetrator, guilt, and now in autumn with the leaves on the graves, also of transience. But transience does not mean forgetting: there are fresh flowers and wreaths at the gravesites, and the plain is lined with over 3500 European hornbeams. Donated by relatives and private individuals in memory of the many fallen soldiers. In fact, so much was donated that there was not enough space to plant them all.
It is nice to see that there are still many visitors from all over the world today. To quote Albert Schweitzer: 'The soldiers' graves are the great preachers of peace.', and they should be heard by as many people as possible.
Tanysgrifio i'r Cylchlythyr
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