Vimy Ridge

Andy and I attended the 90^th Anniversary and Rededication of the Canadian Vimy Ridge War Memorial in France last weekend. It was the perfect antidote to the homesickness we’ve been feeling, because the place was crawling with Canadians.

Our big plan was to cycle to the site from the rail station in Arras, but of course it was Easter Monday, and all the bike places were closed. Plan “B” saw us sharing a taxi with five other Canadians, all under 25. Within two minutes the conversation turned to an intense discussion of hockey. So, so so Canadian... Then talk swung to the condition of the highway between Edmonton and Calgary, how crappy the weather was in Canada at the moment and then how much Stephen Harper sucked. It was awesome. Total Canadian immersion in a ten minute cab ride!

I don’t think new immigrants should have to learn either official language, know the words to “O Canada” or be able to name the ten provinces – We just should have taped that conversation, and anyone who could follow it, and contribute something meaningful about how horrible freezing rain is, or how bad the Leafs are, gets automatic citizenship.

Once at Vimy, I had a few misgivings. Having done a few massive Ottawa Canada Days, my skin tends to crawl at the overt rah-rah-ing these sorts of events bring out. There’s something about seeing teenagers running around with maple leafs painted on every body part and “Canada Kicks Ass” t-shirts that feels slightly forced and, well, un-Canadian.

Vimy was different, though. For one thing, none of the maple-leaf bedecked teenagers were drunk, which was a nice change from the green faces and retching noises you experience near the Rideau Centre on Canada Day. For another, it turns out that I don’t mind a bit of chauvinistic national pride when it’s about veterans.

I mean, who doesn’t love a First World War veteran? The few who are still kicking around are literally a hundred-years old and they all actually LIED to get into the war. You’ve got to admire their insane lack of foresight, because the First World War? Not the conflict you want to be fighting in – You know, No Man’s Land, pre-antibiotic medicine, performing horrifying frontal assaults on heavily defended trenches for no strategic gain, rats, lice, mud, rain… I’ve lived through a Belgian winter in an APARTMENT in the Twenty-First century and I barely made it out alive… I don’t know how those huddled and miserable soldiers survived here in trenches while being shot at.

The Vimy Memorial is particularly moving. It’s perched at the top of the Ridge, overlooking the countryside and it’s absolutely MASSIVE. Unlike Mannequin Pis (Belgium’s famous, but surprisingly little statue) or Sarah McLachlan, Vimy is actually much bigger when you see it in real life. France ceded the land for the memorial to Canada and they’ve preserved the original Canadian and German trenches. It’s very evocative to visit these, because you realize just how close the soldiers were to their enemies.

It’s funny, but in talking to my sister Susie[1] about Vimy she said that she’s always felt a completely irrational connection to the battle because our grandmother lived on Vimy Street in Sherbrooke, Quebec. I laughed at this, but then realized that I sort of felt the same way… And now I’m studying First World War literature – obviously irrational attachments can be quite powerful, which might explain what Katie Holmes is STILL doing with Tom Cruise. Leave him Katie! He's smaller than Mannequin Pis, and completely crackers! He wore a girdle and high heels to your wedding! Leave him! Leave him!!

Ah hem, small digression.

Anyway, Andy and I both felt that the Canadian government could have done a better job making the Rededication a bit more exciting. Once on the Ridge there was meant to be entertainment, but that turned out to be a couple of sweaty tents filled with lame Government of Canada stalls – Veterans Affairs handing out pamphlets explaining how to apply for a pension, Heritage giving away Canada pins and an excruciatingly poorly acted movie following a young girl as she learned about the Battle of Vimy Ridge in school . The movie was so old the girl was wearing acid washed jeans, and kept referring to the Battle as happening SEVENTY-FIVE years ago. I mean, come on Canada, couldn’t you have updated the thing?

Still, the day had a great vibe. Everyone was so intensely nice, and, well, Canadian. Plus, the weather was warm, the trees were in flower and the views from the ridge over the French countryside were spectacular.

There were a surprising number of France French people, which was nice to see. You could always spot them, because they would be clustered around the various Mounties totally freaking out. Honest to God, when three Mounties galloped up on horseback (an impressive sight, I am the first to admit) you would think that the Rolling Stones had just arrived.

In typical Amy and Andy fashion, we didn't actually hang around for the ceremony, but skedaddled before the Queen and Steve-o showed up. We did see a number of big SUV's (very rare in Europe) surrounded by cops on motorcycles, so we figured that was someone important ... Also there were helicopters, bomb dogs AND a radiation decontamination tent thing. Yikes! Oh, and we (Andy) spotted Michael Ignatieff -- he's tall. Andrew also saw various other Canadian politicians and media people, but none of the “exciting” ones like Mitsumi Takahachi, Belinda Stronach or Peter Mansbridge, so what do I care?

All in all, it was a great time. Who knew that talking about Barry, Ontario and Tim Hortons doughnuts all day could lift your spirits so much?

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[1] That’s for you, Danusia