THE TRUTH ABOUT LUMIERE FESTIVALS: EXPOSED

After having moved to Lyon in late August I've been slowly getting to know the city. One of the few downsides to working from home is that there isn't much to encourage me over the door everyday, apart from the odd forgotten grocery from the weekly shop.

However, every December Lyon welcomes La Fête des Lumières: an event showcasing different light displays in various city centre locations.

If any of my Durham pals are reading, this will probably ring a bell as Durham is home to the UK's biggest light festival, LUMIERE, which takes place biennially. For anyone reading this who's not a Durham pal, you won't be aware that there is nowhere near enough space in Durham City to accommodate enough personal space for the hordes of students already living there, plus the people living close-by to come in and enjoy the festivities. The lack of personal space only became an issue on deciding to attend. However the real kick in the teeth was not being able to take the shortest route home from lectures due to crowd control having closed off central areas. The thought was always there but personally, I never appreciated Durham LUMIERE. My dislike for being stuck in slow-moving crowds along with my sense of entitlement from having my normal routine robbed of me prevented this.

Nonetheless, I was ready to give the concept another go, as I told myself that Lyon is a much bigger city, with a much bigger capacity to host loads of people at once. I was told by some friends to expect a lot of people, but I was convinced that it was already guaranteed to be better than the northern England small-town version.

I was really keen to see as much as possible, and we went over two consecutive nights or rather, I dragged my boyfriend in over two consecutive nights. I like to be organised, so my pre-planned route would ensure we wouldn't miss anything worth seeing.

The less central route was really pleasant. It included nice displays and decorations, and weaved through the streets of Vieux Lyon, onto the Saône banks. From there, we moved on to watch a few shows that were projected onto various buildings - my favourite aspect of these festivals. This was the point at which we noticed that crowd control was obviously being taken very seriously. We quickly found ourselves in a herd of people being ushered really slowly to the optimum viewing spot. Everyone found their spots, and stopped to watch the show. When it was over, we continued moving through the traffic system put in place, re-emerging onto the much wider river bank. It was tolerable, especially since we hadn't spent most of the night stuck in the middle of a crowd, but it was the first moment where I suspected that huge crowds might just be a given when it comes to coloured light shows.

Nonetheless, determined to see the best of this event that only occurs once a year, we ventured into the centre on the second night running. The best of the displays and shows were still in store but unfortunately, so was the worst of the crowds. Don't get me wrong, in some moments I was able to lose myself in the enchantment of the coloured lights all around me, and the magic in the air that surrounded the event. However, it was a little hard to preserve the positive mental attitude. Upon snapping back to the reality of the moving crowd, being careful not to trip on anything, I also noticed that almost everyone else around us seemed to be complaining about the crowds: << mais c'est un truc de ouf>>, <<mais c'est dangereux>>, <<mais c'est une blague, ou quoi ?>>.

There was no point trying to find a metro station either. Most of them were difficult to access as certain streets were blocked off or only allowed people to pass through in one direction. The metros that were accessible would be packed anyway. We decided to walk the 2km stretch back to Perrache bus station. The crowd kept us warm, but not being able to walk at our own pace or choose our own way back felt really frustrating, especially after a whole night of the same thing. To add insult to injury, it had started raining. We eventually made it home in one piece, but there was a slight air of disappointment. What was painted to be the best event of the year turned out to be a few evenings of mostly navigating our way through people as far as the eye could see.

I'm aware of the Scroogey-ness present in the tone of this post, but I'm keen not to end my last post of the year on a low note. I still really enjoyed this festival, and I loved being part of what is probably one of the biggest cultural events of the year for Lyon. But, this whole experience had me thinking about people in general. Taken from a short academic study on crowd tolerance across cultures (Evans; Lepore, 2000), in general, westerners have a much lower tolerance for large crowds and lack of personal space than certain Asian/eastern cultures. Using my experience of La Fête des Lumières, I can definitely see the sense in this. However, I haven't quite managed to unpick the psychology of it all for myself.

For an event whose origins date back to 1643 (Wikipedia), I think it's fair to assume that most people who attend the event each year are up to date with the region's traditions, and continue to come back year after year, which begs the question; why? If people know what to expect, why do they continue to put themselves through and evening of highly realistic cattle herding reconstructions if they know it is likely to dampen their mood? Is Lyon's rich history and culture just too special to be ignored? Is it a yearly duty for all citizens of Lyon? Is the complaining just another part of the culture?

At the very least, even if we don't feel strong ties to where we come from, I think we all like to believe we're a bit cultured in some way, or at least try to be. Whether you like to taste foreign foods, listen to a vast array of music, or soak up the local art scene, I think the main conclusions to be drawn from this experience are that participating in local culture can evoke a real sense of community and solidarity… even if some of that solidarity is just mutual moaning, or maybe we're all just a bit too mad for coloured lights.

Since I don't plan to churn out another post before the holidays are over, I'd just like to wish anyone reading this a nice time this Christmas, and say thank you to the people who have left me some words of encouragement since I made the steps to go freelance. It has provided me with a sense of fulfilment in my professional life, and I hope to continue in this line of work for as long as it makes me happy. I hope everyone got what they wanted from 2019, and that you all go into 2020 happy, and ready to take on another new year!

For the history of Lyon's Festival of Lights: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Festival_of_Lights_(Lyon)

For the study on cross-culture crowd tolerance, click here. Thanks to Erica McGovern for the recommendation.