Take up our quarrel with the foe:
I just got back today from a class trip to Ieper, Belgium; a town that was literally reduced to dust and rubble during the first world war. All of our classes are about British and London history, so the reason we went all the way to Ieper was because a huge number of British soldiers were killed there. Maybe it was the 7 hour journey, or the blistering cold, but I was strangely emotional during all our memorial, museum, and cemetery visits. This wasn't my war, my generation, or even my country! But the first memorial we saw - the Menin Gate - was right in front of our hostel and every night since the end of the WWI there is a memorial service at 8pm, wherethre is a bugle call (sometimes accompanied by a speech) and a moment of silence. Every single night, for almost 100 years. On the memorial are 55,000 names of soldiers who died between 1914 and 1918. But these were just the soldiers with no known grave. The names were so tiny, and covered every surface, it was impossible to take it in all at once. And then of course a lone bagpiper played Amazing Grace, which just gets me every time. So... I was a blubbering mess, but I was really moved by the fact that this small town in the middle of nowhere Belgium has hundreds (last night there were thousands) of people stand in silence in memoriam of British soldiers, not even their own countrymen! It was really was amazing, and I've never seen or 
heard anything like it.
As well as looking at the memorial, we went to the In Flanders Field Museum, which was an interactive-type exhibition where we each got to "be" someone involved in WWI, and kind of look at the stories through their eyes. I was Remi van Kemmel, an 18-year-old Belgian soldier who, oddly, survived and lived until 1978. He called himself "a lucky devil". Now that we're in the 21st century 1914 sounds so far away, like it's not even a part of our world anymore. But Remi lived until less than 10 years before I was born.
I've spent two days learning and breathing World War I. I've seen museums, houses, cemeteries, old trenches, and memorials. The last thing I want to do is think about the war, but now it's the only thing I can think about. Especially because we stopped by a German cemetery where we saw a photo of Hitler in the same spot we were, promoting his ideals right before the start of World War II. The last cemetery we went to though before leaving this afternoon was the Tyne Cot Cemetery, the largest of its kind in the world. 11,908 graves are registered 70% of which are unknown. Then, another 35,000 names are inscribed on the walls surrounding the cemetery - that's in addition to the 50,000 I saw earlier in the trip. The numbers are so huge I still find it difficult to digest, but looking at the sheer number of graves stretching before us made the horrors click. It's been a long time since we've had a war like that so now I'm just waiting with bated breath for all of us to get blown to bits.
HOWEVER - it was also the most beautiful cemetery I've ever been to. If I were ever to fight for anything I would want to be remembered the way these soldiers are. Poppies are everywhere, and even the graves that house an unidentified soldier, they are remembered as a soldier of the Great War, and they are known unto God. Letters and crosses are stuck in odd graves, notes from school classes thanking the soldiers, and long letters addressed to the wall of unknowns. Lovely ways to acknowledge a person no one will ever know. Basically, this afternoon was somewhat depressing, but fascinating and beautiful all at the same time. I slept the whole bus/ferry/bus trip home - from both physical and emotional exhaustion.
Another however - Belgium rocks. As a depart from my depressing rant on WWI, beer and waffles and chocolate and fries? As amazing as they say. Honestly. I'm not really a beer drinker 
but there's this pub our guide took us to his favorite pub (and treated the whole group of 50 to a round!). There was a catalogue of all the beers available - from cheery, to 12% alcohol, to barley, to those brewed by monks. While WWI still hangs over the whole of this town, beer is another huge part of the culture, and boy do they celebrate it! And, since I always talk about food, Belgium is no exception, especially because I had this amazing waffle cooked in front of me, handed to me in a napkin, and didn't even cost 2 euros! It was the best waffle I've ever had in my life. And, I learned French Fries are actually from Belgium, so of course I had to have those too! Then of course I spent about $15 on chocolate. Also pretty spectacular :-) And yes, I did buy an extra bar that I wont touch and send home to my family. Maybe.
I also did do my bit of learning some part of language. I thought they spoke French everywhere in Belgium but I learned that there is a French area and a Flemish area and Ieper is the latter. Flemish/Dutch sounds a lot like German, so I was good and learned, "Do you speak English?" in 
Dutch. My accent is atrocious but I was proud of myself for trying while other tourists walked up the locals and spoke in English or made huge hand motions like the Belgian people were idiots. Our group was pretty awesome and our teachers taught us (roughly) to say hello, goodbye, thank you, cheers (!), etc... I hope I will remember all of this later on because my vocabulary of European languages is growing and I love it!
So... Twee bier, alstublieft. And Dag.
(two beers please) (goodbye) hehe.
:-D
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