Christmas Cotignac Style

Christmas has arrived in Cotignac. There are lights, decorations, and preparations for reveillon (the grand feast on Christmas Eve). Cotignac is like small towns everywhere – the spirit is there but the execution is a little – uneven. But it just adds to the charm.

Decorations for Noel have been going up all around town. The Spar has tinsel strung a bit haphazardly. The Café de Cours decorated their palm tree with lights. The honey store has gold bows that are slightly askew. But Blue Cl’Hair – a coiffure – went all out with a tree and mistletoe outside their shop. Even the Tuesday market got into the mood. Mike was delighted to find a, shall we say, svelte Mrs. Santa gracing one of the market stalls. I, on the other hand, had to live with a pudgy, white-whiskered Santa outside the Gourmet Shop.

The village is festive with lights hanging from the trees along the main street. Not to be outdone, there are also decorative lights along the tiny street leading up to the Hotel de Ville (city hall). The village seems to have a little less organizational rigor now than during the summer. The big ceremony to turn on the lights didn’t happen. Mike and I went into town for the Fete des Lumieres on the evening it was supposed to happen (even though the tourist office had no information) to discover….nothing. It seems that the date was changed to December 26. Supposedly there will be fireworks (feu d’artifice) along the rocks behind the city. We’ll let you know!

It’s been fun to drive through the neighboring villages to see their lights. I wish I owned the concession that sold lights to all these little towns. Each village has its own design, and we’re not talking simple lights strung across the streets. These are designs in a wide array of colors – shooting stars, snowflakes, festive greetings, and more. Carces is the most entertaining. It looks like they bought one of each design that was in the catalog. Then they hung them one after the other. No pattern; no theme; just lights. It’s refreshing in an unorganized way. There is a saxophone with colored notes jauntily dancing across the street, stars, bells, snowflakes, greetings, and plain ole, blinking, white lights. Lorgues, on the other hand, has color coordinated blue and white lights. White snowflakes float above banners of blue, tastefully strung along the main streets in varying patterns.

Cotignac is somewhere in the middle. The lights at the village entrance festively announce that Cotignac is a city of character, and along the main street we are greeted with a cheerful “Joyeux Noel.” The tall plane trees serve as the backdrop for sparkling blue lights that glow over mostly empty shops – empty, except for the Modern Bar. The Modern Bar may not be fancy but it must be the biggest money maker in town – after the Spar.

Mike and I have done our best to keep up with the holiday spirit. We made an excursion to Brignoles to get a Christmas tree. We took Dan’s suggestion that we buy a small Cyprus that could be planted after the holidays. Perfect. Off we went to Gamm Vert (like the garden section of Home Depot). They had the perfect little tree – about three feet high, a festive green color, and perfectly shaped. They also had a room full of cut Christmas trees for sale that were not so fortunate. The whole experience was a moment to remember. First, there was Santa Baby playing on the loud speakers as we walked in the store. It takes a moment to realize that you’re in a store in France and hearing Santa Baby in English. As they say here, “Bizarre!” Then we found these poor, little trees. It was simply not possible to stifle our laughter. Some trees were lopsided; others were missing their top branches; and all were for sale. I’m just sure someone came along to love these poor, misshapen trees! Ours, however, is lovely. In addition to the chrystal, star ornaments that Siena left for us, we spent a grand total of 7 euros on decorations. I was able to resist – just barely – the feather boas that were being sold as tinsel. We settled for little, gold ball trim.

We were on our way out with our big purchases when Mike remarked offhandedly that all we needed now was French Christmas music. Hmmmm. He had a point. I dashed back inside and emerged with a three CD set of French Christmas music. Decorating the tree, with wine in hand and French carols floating in the air, has never been so much fun!

I’d never thought about it before, but Christmas carols are the same and different here. Some of the American standards are everywhere – Bing Crosby’s White Christmas, Sinatra’s Let it Snow. While we hear familiar songs, there are new ones as well, and many of them have great tunes. There’s C’est Noel which, after hearing it once, is permanently stuck in our heads. And it’s not just us. We were at the market on Tuesday and I overheard a delivery man humming the chorus as he unloaded boxes. ‘Tis the season! Then there are songs with familiar tunes but different words, like Mon Beau Sapin, sung to the tune of O Christmas Tree.

We enjoyed the French Christmas music so much that we went to a chorale performance at the church in Cotignac. Even after living here for nine months, we never know what to expect. This time we were surprised to realize that the church is not heated. No….not heated. Not even a little bit. Everyone seemed to know this but us. They arrived with blankets and prepared to sit in the cold for the performance. It actually wasn’t that bad; we simply kept our coast – and gloves – on. There we all sat, bundled up, to listen to a chorus of Christmas music. It was wonderful – simply wonderful. Of course, there were many songs that we weren’t familiar with, but we got to hear the French version of Silent Night (Douce Nuit) sung in six part harmony. They audience had a chance to join in for Angels We Have Heard on High (Les Anges dans nos Compagnes) for which the words were handily provided on our pews. Just was we got to “Glor…or…or…ia” the bells of the church began to chime. What a wonderful sound – our voices singing in French as the bells pealed overhead. The concert ended with everyone singing O Come All Ye Faithful (Peuple Fidele). It was a perfect evening – even in the cold.

Mike and I have enjoyed an interesting mix of U.S. Christmas customs and French Christmas customs. Sometimes we don’t know the difference. For example, a few weeks ago we decided to send Christmas cards to friends and family back home and to those people in Cotignac who have been so gracious and welcoming. As it turns out, the French don’t do Christmas cards. We couldn’t find any to send so we made our own. With my own sketch of the Four Seasons fountain in the Cours, a little manipulation of PowerPoint, and some craft glue from Frank’s hardware store – voila! – we made Christmas cards. Some are still be trying to reach the US, but for the shop keepers in Cotignac, they were delivered in person. How much fun! We took them around on market day so we could give them to our favorite vendors and farmers. It was a drizzly day and the envelopes were a bit mushy by the time we finished. But it was worth every minute of cutting and gluing. All of the receipients found it perplexing and had no idea what this envelope was, what to do with it, or when to open it. I had to explain – each time – that a “carte de Noel” is a tradition in the United States. That seemed to satisfy everyone and then they were thrilled. Within minutes, they had their card posted on the wall of their shop. Inside was a message that Catherine helped me to craft, in French, that thanked them for their friendliness during our visit and told them that our best souvenir would be memories of their hospitality. It was another little step towards closing out our time here and one that was very well received by all.

And what would Christmas be without the food? For the French the big feast is reveillon which is served on Christmas Eve. There has been much excitement as everyone prepared for it. At the big Leclerc store in Brignoles there was an entire aisle, from floor to six feet tall, of chocolates. People circled it with their carts selecting the best box from the towering assortment. And, we found a turkey…..a whole turkey! The meat case at the local butcher shop looks a feather boa curled inside. There are turkeys and capons with their heads neatly tucked to the side; feet curled underneath and tail feathers fanned out behind. Black feathers and tan feathers fill the case. We ordered our capon like everyone else but ours will be for the week after Christmas as we already have our pheasant for reveillon. When we dropped by to pick up the capon we discovered that the butcher shop was newly stocked with tiny little appetizers that they call mise en bouche. They were so cute! We had to have an assortment of them, too. They will be our feast on Christmas day. Check out the tiny duck made from mousse de canard!


We could see different foods around, but we lacked more information, so I talked to my main source – Dominique - who runs the nail salon. She told me about the traditional foods in Provence, as each area of France is different. In Provence reveillon typically includes salmon, oysters, white sausage, langoustine, foie gras, chestnuts and thirteen desserts. Yes – thirteen desserts. You’ve got to love a country with a tradition of thirteen desserts! As it turns out, they are tiny desserts – fruit and nuts, primarily. But still. Oh – and buche de Noel is popular, too. These are pastries that look like little logs. Some are made from cake, others from ice cream. Yum. Dominique asked what we were having so I recited our menu: pheasant (ordered specially from the local butcher), black rice (from the Camarque), and spinach. She looked at me quizzically and said, “And, what else?” I explained that it was only me and Mike, but she wanted to know about the starters. Foie gras? Of course. Bien sur! What would Christmas be without it? Dominique seemed satisfied that we would have an acceptable meal.

In order to have a traditional French reveillon, we had to make a trip to the bakery this morning (Christmas Eve) - along with everyone else in town. After waiting in line, I couldn't resist the stunning buche de Noel logs so we bought a small one for Christmas day. We left the bakery loaded down - like everyone else- with boxes and bags of our goodies. We also needed some last minute items so we headed to the Spar only to discover Papa Noel greeting all the shoppers and handing out candy, fruit and cakes in front of the Spar. I'm not sure who enjoyed having their photo taken more - me or him. Papa Noel was actually the man who runs the boule association. We saw him every Friday night during the summer at their mussels and fries event as he presided over the festivities. He speaks a few words of English so as I wished him a "Bon Noel" he quickly replied with "Merry Christmas!" What a lovely place this is.

Thanks to Michael, we had an exceptional meal! He outdid himself with the pheasant and everything else. He had to "lard" the pheasant meaning baking it with pieces of fat on the exposed edges to retain the moisture. It turned out perfectly. I can hardly wait for leftovers tomorrow! And then there were the thirteen desserts. Here’s the line up: dried apricots, blonde raisins, brown raisins, dried figs, dates, walnuts (shelled myself), pine nuts, apple, pear, Clementine, almonds (also shelled myself from our tree), Advent chocolate, and chocolate wafers with nuts and fruit (a traditional treat). What a special evening.

And so, Mike and I settle in after our Christmas reveillon, sitting in front of the wood stove, listening to French Christmas music, me with wine and Mike with sparkling water, as we open the last window of our Advent calendar think about all that we have to be grateful for – here and at home. I have this mental image - a moving postcard - of France running through my head. It’s “taken” from the train as we returned from Strasbourg. There are skeleton trees against dove-grey skies filled with fluffy balls of mistletoe as though they are Christmas ornaments, green pastures with ponies blurry from their winter coats, misty hills and sleepy vineyards waiting for spring, empty lanes connecting steepled villages, and rotund sheep scampering on spindly legs. That postcard image will stay with me for Christmases to come regardless of which hearth Mike and I are sitting around.

A Holiday Wish from Mike and Shelley

It is with a sense of amazement that Mike and I send out this holiday greeting from France. For years we saved for this experience and, as we near our ninth month, it has been far more than we expected (and there’s a little more yet to come). During this holiday season, Mike and I continue to take it all in – whatever life has to offer – like my first Advent calendar (we had the wisdom to buy one that is full of chocolates!), decorating our tiny tree (thanks to the ornaments that Siena Scott left for us), and participating in village festivities like the Christmas chorale, the Fete des Lumieres and the many Marche de Noels.

But no matter what event we have planned, each day starts the same, checking for emails. I scroll through the junk to find the emails from you. Every day there’s something, and it always brings a smile. And when Mike gets up, it’s the first thing he asks, “Did we get any emails?” A letter in the mailbox creates a flurry of excitement as we rush for the mailbox key. For each of those emails, calls, cards or letters, electronic or paper, and for the thoughts sent our way, we thank you. It has mattered.

We’ve had the chance to see things, go places, and meet people that would fill a lifetime of vacations. But, it’s not been about a lifetime of vacations strung end to end like pearls. It’s about the thread that connects them. That thread is made of relationships – two-way relationships with friends and family. We’ve come close to having it all – a life here and a life in Annapolis (and Texas, too). That’s only because of your effort at keeping our connections alive with calls, emails, letters, newspaper clippings and such. Mostly, you’ve held us in your thoughts.

To our friends – You’ve read and listened to our tales, but you also shared your life with us and that makes all the difference. For those who visited, we got to know you better – more so than is possible with emails, phone calls and occasional dinners.

For all those at DOT, you’ve carried on our work without missing a beat – as it should be. I could not be more proud.

For our family – We thank you for your support and love, and for shouldering responsibilities that we could not possibly have managed from here.

To our new friends in and around Cotignac, we thank you for your openness and hospitality. You’ve made us feel welcome and comfortable in a place that could have seemed foreign. Your hospitality with stay with us wherever we go.

Through all of our experiences, we have deepened our thankfulness for life, friends and family. You have been with us as we dreamed this dream. You have been constant companions on our journey – whether you realized it or not. While we will always cherish our time in France, it is each of you whom we hold most dear in our hearts.

So, for now, we send you our holiday wishes from afar and we thank you for your love and friendship. We wish for you the fulfillment of all your dreams.


Shelley and Mike

The Twinkling Spirit of Strasbourg

Christmas time in Strasbourg. Everything about it is special– the city, the markets, the sounds, smells and the lights. Oh, the lights. They were as captivating as those in Lyon but in a more traditional way. The markets filled the streets with small wooden shops each lit and stuffed full of goodies for the holidays. The place was packed with people – happy, laughing, and smiling as they jostled down the narrow corridors between market stalls. The experiences started the moment we set foot in the cobblestoned street.

Anytime I arrive in a new place, I feel a sense of excitement for the adventure and exploration of it. Here, I could barely contain myself as we dropped the bags, grabbed umbrellas (there was a slight drizzle that stopped completely after we arrived), and headed out the door with map in hand, of course. And so it began. The street in front of our hotel had a ceiling of white lights with large snowflake pendants. We walked down the street under the lights and ran into the first little market stalls – small, wooden stalls lit and decorated. This particular market was for locally made products – like Munster cheese, fresh and dried mushrooms, honey, spiced breads, and sausages. The next set of stalls had ornaments, pretzels (which Mike couldn’t resist), gingerbread, and, of course, hot spiced wine or vin chaud (which I couldn’t resist). There we were, standing in the streets of Strasbourg, in the middle of a market, holding hot wine and surrounded by charming buildings - all within thirty minutes of arriving!

The buildings alone were worth trip. They were clearly indicative of the Alsace region of France, particularly in the La Petite France (check) section of the city. It looked like bits of Germany and Switzerland had been rolled up and plopped down in France. The buildings were constructed in the classic exposed beam construction so representative of this area. Between the deep chestnut-colored beams, the plaster came in a variety of colors - white, yellows, greens and deep orange – and some were richly decorated, too. The timbers gently sagged and shingle roofs slumped in the middle as though the buildings decided to sit, relax, and stay for awhile. I stopped and stared every few feet during my morning runs at each new building or street filled with charm. During any season, this would be an enchanting place, but at Christmas, it takes on a whole different character.

We heard about the markets of Strasbourg, but the surprise was the decorated streets. They were festively dressed in lights like blinking stars, snowflakes, red wreaths draped with curtains of red lights, shooting stars, angels, lanterns, balls, garlands, and even Baccarat crystal chandeliers (protected in plastic coverings) hanging over the streets. Each street had a different pattern of lights so that we could navigate our way through the city by the stars – or the angels, or the wreaths. But the decorations didn’t stop there. Shops elaborately decorated their storefronts, too. Huge stuffed hearts hung from the front of the tourist office. Plump teddy bears sat over doors and windows. Ribbons, bows, balls, birch twigs, greenery, Hansel and Gretel, and more graced pasty shops, jewelry stores, foie gras shops, and restaurants. Walking the streets in the evenings was a feast for the eyes. And I never got full. I could have wandered the streets for days soaking up the creativity and the festive atmosphere.



The rambling streets connect Strasbourg’s main plazas. Spacious Place Kleber housed the Grand Sapin de Noel (the grand Christmas tree), and it was indeed grand. The tree towered over the buildings that embrace the square, its lights providing a festive backdrop to singers, Christmas tree vendors, and hundreds of revelers taking pictures in front of the tree. Lacking a photographer, Mike became adept at aiming the camera in our general direction and getting us both in the frame – mostly anyway!

While the Christmas tree was grand, it was the cathedral that is the imposing presence in the city. Construction of the cathedral began in the 1100s. Today, they have a full time staff of artisans who maintain it, still hand carving replacement pieces (check). The cathedral is a soft pink stone with a spire that is the tallest one from medieval times. The spire soars above all the other buildings and can be seen across the city, but it is so tall that it is difficult to see from the square that it occupies. From the outside, the intricate windows look like stone versions of the lace that is made in this area. The carvings of the cathedral walls provide a textured and imposing backdrop for the small market stalls that huddle around the base. Inside are 17th century tapestries – not my cup of tea, but the artistry was evident – and a clock built in the 1500s on the principles of Copernicus. The clock still works using reproductions of the original mechanisms. We missed the big moment when all the parts of the clock are in motion but we returned to see the small movement that occurs every 15 minutes. And it was small. We waited with the crowds, camera ready, and then – a little, sculpted child rang a bell, somewhere on the top something advanced and it was done – for another 15 minutes. Still, the clock has been doing this for hundreds of years. Mike figured out how to tell the date from a large circle with a woman’s hand pointing to the month and day. The clock was impressive, but my favorite was the ringing bells. I heard them peeling across the still-dark city as I ran in the mornings. Mike and I stood at the base of the cathedral at noon, amidst the swarms of jostling crowds around the market stalls, and with musicians playing for coins, as the deep bell rang from high above. We could feel each strike and the reverberations in between as the sound bounced off the buildings of the square and into each person. It felt like my insides were vibrating along with the ringing bells. We couldn’t hear our own conversation and the musicians sounded small and tinny by comparison. There is something simple and majestic about the deep, rich sound of bells.

And then there were the markets. They were in each square and vacant spot in the city. Place Gutenberg was filled with book vendors – appropriately so. The space around the cathedral was packed with market stalls and an ice rink for kids tired of shopping. But the biggest one was at Place Broglie where a Christmas market has been held in Strasbourg continually since 1570. The market was at once old, new, traditional and contradictory. An archway of green lights and trees announced our arrival at the market place. We saw the lights before we saw the balloon vender selling Christmas tree shaped balloons decorated with Winnie the Pooh. I found myself looking into the faces of Tigger (T-I-double Ger-Er), Piglet, and Eore…in Strasbourg…in France. After that shock, we pushed our way through the throngs gobbling up all things Christmas. Stalls twinkled and sparkled with colorful ornaments hanging or in bins. The ornaments were big and small, round, stars, drops, anything you could want. We weren’t buying ornaments, but just to see the colors, shiny and bright, was to feel happy. Another stall was filled with Christmas lights, blinking, flashing, and dripping in a holiday rainbow.
Do-it-yourself crèches were popular, too. Small and large mangers sat empty and forlorn waiting to be filled with tiny shepherds, wise men, lambs, cows, geese, a variety of Marys and Josephs, and even an elephant. Cities of tiny people waited to be purchased. A Noah’s arc of animals sat expectantly, and a forest of trees grew to their full height of four inches. Many of them found happy homes. And then there were the food stalls – one after another. Mike and I grabbed a hot, spiced orange juice (amazing!) from a friendly vendor (who offered to take our picture) to warm us as we moved from stall to stall, standing and staring at the food: gingerbread people and hearts, spiced breads, kugels, stollens, chocolate covered fruit on a stick, candies, pretzels, glazed chestnuts, macaroons, and so much more. Every corner had a stand selling hot drinks. There was mulled wine either red or white (white wines are an Alsacian specialty), spiced orange or apple juice and hot chocolate. We needed more days and a lot more exercise to try it all! And the shops lining the streets were a feast of food shops, too - fancy pastries (with people lined up inside to buy them), gourmet chocolates, specialty meats, and foie gras. This area is where foie gras started. Mike’s highlight was when we were lured into a local food store by the delightful things in the window and discovered they were giving tastings of freshly grilled foie gras served over sautéed mushrooms with a sprinkle of coarse salt. I have a love-hate thing going with foie gras: I love the taste and hate the way it comes into being, but I have to admit this was good. Just a bite was enough.

We had more than just a bite of the spirit of Christmas. We came to Strasbourg for the markets, but in the end, it wasn’t the Christmas markets that were the highlight. The lights, decorations, happy smiles, gleeful children, ringing bells, and warm drinks on a cold day on a street in Strasbourg, all exuded holiday spirit and that’s the best souvenir we took home.

The Lights of Lyon

The French can do Christmas lights. All of the tiny villages around Cotignac have lights of all colors and designs draped over their narrow streets. In Cotignac, we watched as the main street was closed for bucket trucks to haul workers into the trees draping lights along their trunks. The only puzzle is when the lights actually come on. We still haven’t seen them lit. But when it comes to lights, Lyon has everyone beat with their annual Fete des Lumieres. The Fete is to thank Mary for sparing the Lyonnais from the plague centuries ago. Residents line their window sills with votive candles every December 8. That’s how it all started, but now it is a four day festival that is about all things lit and it’s a big deal.

When we arrived from the train, I jostled my way, pushing and shoving (a taste of things to come), through the tourist office. I gave up actually talking to anyone and settled for the printed program. It was all we needed. We explored a bit of the city, had a good lunch at a local bouchon, and rested before the big opening that evening.


Lyon is hard for me to get my arms around. It is physically positioned along two rivers – the Rhone and Saone. The old town rises on a hill overlooking the Saone and is a maze of narrow streets and charming restaurants overlooked by a large, angular, white Basilique Notre Dame de Fourviere. Lyon is a food center for France and the menus here have a wider variety of fare. In fact, we had to carefully translate the menus. In other cities a plate listed as veal would typically be a cutlet. Here there was veal liver, veal head or even veal foot (yes – foot); the same went for duck and chicken. While Lyon is a very large city (2nd or 3rd in France) it feels mid-sized.
People bustled to and from work and classes. There were tons of shops for home and fashion but I can’t shake the feeling that it’s a bit non-descript – or as non-descript as a French city can be. But Lyon is far from non-descript when the sun goes down and the lights come on.

On the first night of the Fete, the residential buildings had row after row of votive candles on the window sills. Candle light flickered with the wind and was charming but was overshadowed by the monumental lighting of the big buildings.
The Fete includes over 70 “animations” dotted over the city. We literally walked for hours on two nights watching the light shows and we just visited the downtown and old town areas. For me, the creativity was the most impressive. I never dreamed that light could create such experiences. There were, of course, lights strung over streets and buildings flooded with colored light, and there was even the occasional Christmas tree in a square; humdrum when compared to the animations.
Each animation was a location, church, statue, or public building where light and sound combined into an experience. The experience came from either the light pattern itself or from the background onto which it was projected. For example, unexpected surfaces became screens. A ferris wheel in huge Place Bellecour was covered in white mesh and was the backdrop for a film. An enormous round screen in front of Primatiale St-Jean was projected with the surface of the moon and hoisted 15 stories in the air by a crane – over and over again each night.




One of my favorites was the beautiful, classic, marble sculpture standing by the Hotel de Ville. It is, on any day, a powerful piece of art with white horses straining out of the fountain as the lovely woman rides in a chariot above the waves. What is smooth, classic marble by day, like you’d see in dozens of French squares, became flamboyant, garish and alive through lights.
With elaborate lights and computers, each surface of the sculpture took on new colors that changed and moved. The anger of the horses was palpable when communicated through turquoise, orange and pink that highlighted their grimaces. The voluptuous woman regally presided over us all in robes of red, orange and pink. In the end, the sculpture went up in “flames” of reds, yellows and oranges. You could almost feel the heat.


Then there was a large flat pool of water with a simple fountain spraying water into the air that became an infinity of droplets of mist – beautiful, but nothing unusual. Turns out, droplets of water can be a projection surface. We stood on the edge of the fountain with a few hundred of our closest friends and looked intently into the mist. There, a woman’s head, the full size of the spray, emerged and then sank calmly back into the pool. Poseidon with his trident rose confidently out of the water to look over the crowd. It was magic and all from light on water.




The other surprise was how they used the surfaces of ornate buildings around the city to exploit their surfaces of columns, cornices, towers and arches to shift, grow, bulge, recede, break and twist.
Before our eyes, an old church became overgrown with vines that sprouted leaves covering the façade until the church ultimately crumbled and was carried away by birds – all as we watched, staring at the reality of the building.




Lyon’s theater, a large, square, classically designed building, was also lovely but unassuming during the day with its arched entry and arched second story windows crowned with medallions.
But at night, the building was alive and inhabited. The show started simply enough with the outlines of the building highlighted and pulsing. Shifting lights made the surfaces appear to move. Each building element became outlined in light – just as it was in reality – with the lines of columns, pediments and friezes accentuated by fine lines of white light. And then it moved. The building bulged then twisted, plunged and rose. The center began to fracture as though from the inside. It pulsated and moved until finally a face, the size of the building, emerged created from the fine white lines of light.
The medallions over the arched windows became pupils of the eyes and the arched entry was a large mouth that seemed to swallow up the captivated crowd with its moans and growls, until it ultimately exploded into fragments of light. Not all of the animations were as elaborate as these but each pulsed with creativity as light became a medium of art for the masses.




And there were masses, particularly the first night. We stopped to see a fireworks display that rivaled anything in DC. The fireworks were shot from a bridge over the Rhone River and people lined up on both sides for as far was we could see. It was quite a spectacle with the whistle and pop of fireworks flying up or out from the bridge and, in one case, flowing down like a waterfall of white light into the river. Smoke filled the air after the 30-40 minute show. We noticed that the Americans in the crowd were gasping and ahhing as fireworks dazzled overhead while the French calmly watched with cameras held overhead to record the scene. The only thing missing was the 1812 Overture!
After the fireworks, we got stuck in a heavy crowd of young and very old, all pushing their way down the wide pedestrian street. Everyone was polite but, I admit, there were points where it was disconcerting. Thankfully, the second night was much less crowded which made for more pleasant strolling through the busy but not packed streets. There are two more days to the Fete but we headed to Strasbourg for their Marche de Noel – one of the best in Europe. More to come on that! For now, we feel fortunate to have reveled in the lights of Lyon.