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Page 63.

31. Arrive in Echternach

On the way to Echternach, Hannah and Rick got something of a breather—they could do nothing but sit, and wait, as Romain drove toward Luxembourg's oldest city—Echternach, over 1,400 years old, and dating to the chaos of the early European Middle Ages just after the fall of the Western half of the ancient Roman empire.

Hannah asked, "I'm curious about two things."

Romain grinned. "I know what they are. Everyone who comes here has the same two questions, and then a million others, but the first two answer most of them."

Hannah said, "Okay. Fair enough. Why is there an independent country as tiny as Luxembourg? Why a grand duke?"… (*Endnotes #6)

…"Like put up your dukes," Rick said.

"That's a nice joke," Romain said. "Actually, that expression comes from the guy who wrote the rules for modern boxing, the Marquess of Queensbury, who was a duke."

Hannah sighed. "As if we need more conflict."

The car interior became silent for a time.

Romain drove fast on the road from Luxembourg City toward the Luxemburgish city of Echternach on the German border. They drove in a northeasterly direction mostly on the E29 (European Highway 29) approaching Echternach in about half an hour.

Romain wore a black leather jacket, like a motorcyclist's, over a button down shirt with small greenish stripes; dark slacks; and black loafers. He looked a bit as if he'd dressed for work, but gotten diverted by a motorcycle club. His thick waves of black, shiny hair accentuated his youthful good looks, complete with pale visage and sprinkled beard shadow.

Rick and Hannah looked punkish but clean, thanks to Mélu's laundry efforts.

Just out of Luxembourg City, they drove past the international airport of Findel on the northeast outskirts of Luxembourg. Romain explained proudly and somewhat emotionally that, at the Luxembourg American Cemetery and Memorial near Findel, thousands of U.S. soldiers of the Third U.S. Army from World War II lay buried including their wartime leader, General George S. Patton. The grateful nation of Luxembourg in 1951 dedicated the fifty acres in the cemetery to the United States for perpetuity—in effect making it practically a part of the United States, administered by the U.S. Battle Monuments Commission in Arlington, Virginia. "So you see," Romain said, "your country and my country are very special friends and always will be, no matter what happens in the world." He pointed off to the horizon. "There, in Sandweiler, are buried over ten thousand German soldiers from the same war, who died all over Luxembourg during the Bulge and other battles. Their bodies were respectfully brought here and interred."

"You know how to make peace," Rick said.

"We live next door to them," Romain said. "Many of us have German ancestry as well as French and Belgian, and Mediterranean. We are one of the world's most diverse nations."

"Can't be much more diverse than Paris," Hannah remarked. Her sharp tone drew glances—of quiet understanding.

Walking wounded every generation, Rick thought to himself.

"You'll see a lot of German sounding place names as we get near the border," Romain said.

Past Findel airport, they drove through a mix of quaint little nestling villages, meadows with leisurely grazing cows, and dense green forest.

Rick and Hannah read the rectangular white signs that flew past: Graulinster, Wolper…

"What is Geyershaff?" Hannah asked with idle curiosity.

Romain grinned. "A Geier in German is a vulture. A Haff in Luxemburgish is the same as the German Hof, which can mean a lot of things, from a noble court (cour) to a farm yard. So literally it means Vulture's Yard or Vulture's Court."

"You're kidding," Rick said (a question).

"Well," Romain said with a laugh, "there was probably some Prussian sounding baron or something named Geyer, and that was the family seat." He waved his free arm about. "Look at the fields and the cows. Aside from trees and little villages, that is really what my country is all about. More cows than people."

He added, "It's not a superhighway like in the States or other big countries. It's more like a wide country road in Germany or Belgium." The road was in some places just two lanes across, marked like a small highway, and in other places wider depending on local traffic.

They flew past trucks, buses, passenger cars, and the occasional red-white-blue patrol car of the Grand-Ducal Police. Some of the cops were women, like in Germany or elsewhere, Rick noted—often athletic, pretty, with a standard pony tail hanging from a jaunty royal-blue uniform hat not unlike a U.S. baseball cap.

Within a short time, Romain began slowing as traffic grew heavier. "We're almost in Echternach."

"That was quick."

"We just crossed about a fifth of the nation," Romain said.

Hannah shook her head. "That's almost like going shopping back in the U.S."

Romain shrugged. "You have a saying. Good things come in small packages, n'est ce pas?" Like all Luxembourgers, he frequently mixed French and German words into the local patois. They said Gudde Muergen (Good Morning) almost like Germans or Flemish, but Bon Soir (Good Evening) in almost perfect French accents. Alternatively for Good Evening, you could just as well say Gudden Owend, similar to the German Guten Abend.

"Size is not everything," Hannah agreed with a very pretty blue-eyed smile, still with oxblood raggedy hair and slash chocolate punk lipstick.

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