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<\/a>\n\nWhen I was in my late teens, I visited a friend in Belgium. Her father, knowing I was Canadian, took me on an impromptu full day driving tour of the war graves of Flanders. There was a language barrier between myself and this man and I was unaware of where\u00a0we were going that day. We arrived at a walled medieval town early in the morning for breakfast. It was not until I was standing under\u00a0a huge stone arch inscribed with the names of fallen soldiers, that I made the connection. I was on the battlefield of Ypres (pronounced ee-pers in Flemish) and I was reading the names of those killed at Ypres in\u00a0WWI. Before this day, Ypres was just another name that I couldn't pronounce, a place where the mustard gas attacks happened. Yet standing there under the arch, I was overcome with an eerie feeling that I had stepped into the pages of a history text. For the first time in my life, the great war became a reality to me.\n\nAlong with Ypres,\u00a0we visited no less than 20 different Canadian war cemeteries. Some of them were large and some were small enough that\u00a0you would miss them if\u00a0you didn't know they were there.\n\nRemembrance Day has never been the same for me since that trip to Belgium. Every November 11th, I find my mind returning to that place\u00a0 where, for me, \u00a0wars became real. I try to remember the rows of crosses, the poppies waving against the manicured lawns, the arch in Ypres, and hidden roadside monuments to Canadian regiments. I try to remember the fallen.\n\nThis year I\u00a0went to\u00a0the Remembrance Day ceremony at ![\"\"](\"http:\/\/blogs.studentlife.utoronto.ca\/lifeatuoft\/files\/2011\/11\/IMG00204-20111111-1043.jpg\")
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