French speakers live in the southwest area of Louisiana known as Acadiana, and much of the local traditional music by Cajun and Creole musicians uses French lyrics. Organizations such as Radio Canada, TV5Monde, Radio France, and Afropop Worldwide cover the annual event, now in its thirty third year.
Spring has sprung itself into what the bayou offers for the summer: high heat and humidity. A slight breeze tempers the heat wafting up around the open air stages. Music lovers crowd themselves under downtown trees for shade, while dancers suck it up on the asphalt and gravel to dance in the hot sun. But, as each day of the five day festival burns through its hours, the crowds expand onto every downtown street: buying food and drink, vendor's wares, and souvenirs. Long lines and slow moving mobs slow down anyone's trajectory between the stages, and by 8 p.m. each night, tired of the fight, I weave myself along less crowded side roads to my cajun friend Doug's porch. The porch is an icon, a social hub, a rendezvous location. Late night bands play from the back dance hall at the Blue Moon next door, competing with Artmosphere's offering one block away, or the new and shiny Rock'n'Bowl, air conditioned, two blocks away. Once my truck is parked for the day, it does not move. It wouldn't be able to move until about 3 a.m. when those finally done dancing, drinking, and socializing drive home like ants scattering in different directions once their hill has been kicked over.
We all sleep in so that we can get up and do it again. "You danced for seven hours yesterday?" a friend asked on the phone recently.
"That's nothing," I say. "Tomorrow is the long day, starting at 10 a.m. and going until 1 a.m. Sunday morning."
We come for this. We come from as far away as Alaska and New Brunswick, Canada. We drive and fly and bus. We come back home to dance to the local zydeco bands like Leroy Thomas, Gino Delafose, Pine leaf Boys. We check out new bands like the Daiquiri Queens, an all female local cajun band. We clear the palette and groove to bands like Le Vent du Nord, or Alsarah and the Nubatones. We get silly with the gypsy music of the Flying Balalaika Brothers and the Lemon Bucket Orkestra. We meet up for lunches and car sharing. But we always come back to Doug's porch again and again.
Breaux Bridge, population about 8000, along the Bayou Teche in St. Martin Parish, one day years ago became “La Capitale Mondiale de l”Ecrevisse” : World capital of Crawfish.
Now, annually the first weekend in May, the three day celebration honors everything "crawfish".
Main rule: What goes down stays down, otherwise the contestant is disqualified. We all watch the face colors of the contestants turn pink, then red. No one turns green, or else, then.... you can guess. Many know when to stop, pushing their trays to the edge of the table for later weighing. Crawfish shells and heads lay scattered everywhere as those shoveling them in have no need for neatness.