Author Topic: It's different over here...  (Read 161 times)

Offline texace

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It's different over here...
« on: June 04, 2002, 11:03:34 PM »
I never thought a simple Texas teenager like myself would go anywhere. I'm not talking job-wise...I mean travel -wise. Well...I got my chance, and now I am writing this post from beautiful Munich, Germany at 6:03 in the morning.

I must say things are different over here. I am originally visiting a family friend in England, but we loaded a car and headed first to France (Hey...I wanted to pay my respects to the Normandy invaders.) and finally here. I'll be here until Friday, then it's up to Scotland with another family friend until Teusday. We'll finally be back in Marlow, England on that evening. I'll then be home the following Teusday, the 18th.

All in all...so far this has been a rewarding trip. Mind you I do miss my folks, friends, and girlfriend, I really enjoy it here. It took me a while to get used to the right hand drive cars and such, but that's normal now...or so it seems. I have naturally picked up a British accent, as is normal for me, and today I intend to put my German to the test. :D

Hopefully I'll have fun the rest of this trip...and I can't wait to get home again. AH is calling, but I can't here her this far away...;)

Cheers! :D

Offline hawk220

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It's different over here...
« Reply #1 on: June 04, 2002, 11:26:05 PM »
Texace, good for you for getting out and seeing the world!.. there is nothing that teaches us better our differences and similarities than actually getting out of your comfortable environment.

 Your message about getting to the Normandy beaches should be told to all. Easily the most powerful and moving experience I've ever had the fortune to live was visiting the beaches at Normandy. Every American should make the pilgrimage to this area to pay respects to the unimaginable sacrifice that was made by so many. I had to drag my woman to that part of France as she was not interested in history at all.. we stood at the top of the cliff and looked down upon the remaining pill boxes and scruff grass reaching out to the expanse of open beach and I explained the story of D-Day. By the time we had taken in the sea of white crosses and Stars of David and visited the small chapel at the end of the reflecting pool, I had finished the narrative of the events of June 6 and she was a mess of tears. Later she confessed to me that the trip there had changed fundamentally the way she thought about being an American, those who give themselves to military service and the sacrifices of war.