American Soil

When Americans, and in particular those from the United States, travel outside of the US, they are looking for something new, discovering something different they've never seen, or at least going to visit family, be it known or never met. The original founders of the United States were looking for a better life, a "New World" different from Europe. So naturally we are explores; most of us except those African Americans that were brought to the US against their will. So stepping foot in a different country always brings about a feeling of something different, unusual, exciting.

As we discover these places we have not seen, we learn and in some cases take the time to write down, or at least aid our memories with pictures. If a picture means a thousand words, then the 100 or so pictures I'm taking each day while in France may culminate into a book of 1,400,000 words, or a 200 page book; a medium size story of sorts. But all too often we just do not take the time to take some pictures, or as in the case I am about to describe, are not permitted to photograph.

Due to the policies of the US, in the minds of some in this world, Americans do not belong in this world. Since the 1970's our enemies have continued to grow, but explosively since 2001. The attack on "American Soil" has changed everything. From the bombing of American warships in Yemen, to embassies in Africa, to the World Trade Center, Pentagon, and the fields of Pennsylvania, we have had to deal with individuals and organizations that want us dead. So it's no wonder why the American Embassy in Paris is not permitted to be photographed. Even the perimeter around the embassy cannot be photographed for fear of some sort of planning for an attack.

The interior of the Embassy is protected by the best; the United States Marines. That is definitely comforting. So when Sarah and I entered the Embassy, I felt safe. But I also had another feeling I did not expect. I felt as if I was at home. I had gone from being an explorer to a person that was back from their trip. Sure the Embassy was new, but I was back on "American Soil".

While in the Embassy, we were fortunate enough see Rob in his office, to meet a few of Rob's good friends, the cafeteria, exchange shop, small American store, and a few other places. English was the primary language, and even the French foreign nationals had to use it; something that was rather interesting to me, a feeling of pride. Which made me realize that if I felt the pride of being home, then when I'm visiting France, I should try to accommodate the French just a bit more by speaking their language. After all, the French have quite a bit to be proud about in their history.

Each country has "skeletons in the closet", but each also have their glory. The US is no different. However, the US and the French have shared a different bond that has lasted since the revolution of 13 colonies established by England decided they had had enough of the tyranny of King George and the harsh treatment as Englishmen. The French provided armed forces during the revolution, and provided a Navy strong enough to repel the British Navy at Yorktown, my home, to defeat Cornwallis and bring about the end of the revolution. They were also allied with us in 1812, and at other times in our history, including the understanding that many of the men that signed the Declaration of Independence were Ambassadors to France after the establishment of the US Federal government. So our histories, whether we like it or not, have been intertwined for a few centuries.

While in the Embassy, there is a room that has in it flags of the original 13 colonies. An American flag with 13 "Jewish" stars are on it representing the 13 colonies. For a time, I sat under my flag of Virginia and began to feel like there was a reason I was there; I was home, I was in Virginia.