Day 5 - Moving Day

This morning, after breakfast and check-out, we embussed and headed east of Paris. Large, comfortable bus, but slow going. Paris peak-hour traffic is as bad as anywhere in the world. Roads seemingly designed for medieval traffic cannot accommodate the volume of vehicles today. The cars are not the huge sedans and 4WDs seen on Australian roads. They are mostly smaller compacts, and there are thousands of two-wheel vehicles, scooters and bikes of all descriptions. These dart in between the often stationary larger vehicles, making full use of the entire road space. The odd thing: nobody gets upset. Everybody wants to get where they are going as quickly as possible, but nobody stresses. After an hour or so, we get to the open road and the buildings disappear.
We are now in farming country. Crops of corn and leaf vegetables and grain are many, and then we reach the wine region of Champagne. Fields of grapevines stretch for miles and miles. As we reach the Champagne region, we pull off the highway and stop at the Mercier Vineyard. From the outside the actuality is impossible to imagine. A tour starts with a slow lift ride down through a Disney-like adventure showing the various stages of wine production. The theme continues 26 metres underground with a robot-controlled train ride through part of a maze of some 18kms of hand-hewn caves through the chalk rock. One avenue is over 1km long. The temperature is stable. The more than 200,000 stored bottles are turned by hand daily as part of the fermentation process. The taste is sublime. The effect is almost instant unconsciousness, given the on-going bus-ride.
We travel to Reims and stop for lunch.
In the afternoon, we journey to the first of many WW1 battlefields and memorials, the real reason for this visit to France. Near the town of Peronne and overlooking the Somme River, is a small block of land, set aside for the memorial to the AIF 2nd Division. It appears out of place, nestled between houses in a suburban street, but is obviously revered and respected by the local residents. A short walk away is an area, now wooded, but in 1918 it had been pounded by heavy artillery for 6 ½ hours prior to an assault by 2nd Division troops which was hailed as the start of the end of the Great War. More than 3000 Australians were killed or injured in the short campaign. Just walking on the same earth and listening to the historian recount the details, made my hair stand on end. Today, I experienced some of the grief. No doubt there is more to come.
We arrived at the outskirts of Lille in the late afternoon, and took residence at another Novotel (Lille Ouest). It’s a sprawling complex as opposed to the previous tower in Paris. We dumped the bags and almost the entire complement of my travelling companions descended on the bar to wash away the dust, and discuss the day. The discussion went on for some time.