Photograph by Dolores Fino
SAN DIEGO – May 11th – May 12th, 2013
GATOR BY THE BAY – ZYDECO, BLUES & CRAWFISH FESTIVAL
My mother was the one who first mentioned the Zydeco music festival in San Diego. She loves to dance and over the years has learned salsa, west coast swing, night club 2-step, the waltz, and among others, zydeco. The Zydeco Festival sounded interesting and fun, and since it fell on Mother’s Day weekend, we decided to go for a little weekend get-away and, of course, in celebration of Mother’s Day.
We had a fantastic time. That was a few years ago. This year, we decided to go again for our 4th annual “Gator By The Bay” Zydeco, Blues & Crawfish Festival in beautiful, temperate, San Diego.
Packing is not my strong point. I have traveled enough to where one would reasonably think this area would see improvements, yet it is still a tremendous challenge for me whether I’m packing for 1 day or 3 months. There is also a certain amount of excitement and anxiety that comes with knowing I am going somewhere, which is for the most part, unhelpful.
San Diego was no exception and I managed to stay up almost the entire night packing or taking on unnecessary organization projects. I *maybe* slept for 15 minutes before the alarm went off at 4:45 a.m. We had an early morning flight and managed to get on the road to SFO airport packed, partially presentable, and with some much needed coffee in hand. I felt a touch obligated to be the kind of polite passenger that stays awake during the drive, but during the flight we both were in agreement that we were going to try to rest. I suspect a little rest was achieved during the 1 ½ hour flight, but certainly not enough.
We arrived and checked into the Sheraton Marina Hotel fairly exhausted. The music could be heard from the festival situated directly in back of the Sheraton, which made my mom want to shake her booty and dance, while it made me acutely aware of my exhaustion. It’s rather disconcerting when your mother is ready to dance and you are ready for a nap. Granted, she wasn’t up all night long. We made plans to meet up later and I gave in to my humiliating fatigue and curled up into a little ball of exhaustion on the crisp, white, Sheraton sheets and faded into blissful sleep. I only slept for maybe an hour, but it did all the necessary wonders and I was able to join my non-stop mother. I’m telling you all of this simply so you’ll understand more fully the role fatigue played throughout the weekend.
The festival is within walking distance from the hotel. It takes place at Spanish Landing Park, generally shaped like an extended rectangle, and located behind the Sheraton Marina Hotel with main entrances at either end. There are main music stages also at either end, a medium stage in the middle, and between these, some smaller stages are scattered for music or dance lessons. Vendors in booths or tents can be found all throughout the festival. The food corridor is centrally located where one can walk down a wide aisle with food vendors on either side selling all kinds of Cajun style cuisine, including vast amounts of crawfish.
Upon entering the festival, I immediately look for Star. Star is an airbrush artist who has a booth offering airbrushed tattoos and face painting. Ever since the first year when I decided to get a tattoo, and then another, and then another, I have been a repeat customer. If you visit Star’s booth long enough, you are likely to see me at some point: I’m the lady pushing all the little kids out of the way. Just kidding – I don’t really do that.
(One of Star’s creations – an airbrushed tattoo I got in honor of my best friend, Miss Claire)
My mom heads for the music stages, usually whichever one has the band she would most like to see, and generally can be found dancing her heart out. With alternating music schedules, it is relatively easy to see your favourite bands, although minor schedule overlaps will sometimes have you hurrying from one stage to another as with any music festival.
It is easy to get torn between the various music playing, the food, the vendors, and other activities such as Cajun cooking lessons or dance lessons to encourage novices (like me) to shake their booty on the dance floor. I am very shy when it comes to dancing *most* of the time.
Let me explain.
I have been dancing for over 10 years. However, this has been primarily restricted to dancing with poi. For those of you who don’t know about poi, it is basically fire dancing. One primary type of equipment I use is called poi and consists of balls or squares of wick at the end of aircraft cable that you swing around in various patterns. You can practice without fire, or you can light up the wick and dance with fire. Formal partner dance training has been very limited and scattered throughout my life. I have taken a class here and there, never enough to get good at any one form of dancing even at a basic level. Needless to say, my partner dancing skill set is very limited. With poi dancing, I am the one calling the shots and controlling the moves. Partner dancing is a whole different animal, and not one I am used to riding.
The first year, I was very shy and refused more than one offer to dance on the grounds that I didn’t know how to dance. I finally let my mom’s friend, Walter, convince me to get out there with him during a waltz. He said to me, “Can you walk?” Of course I can walk!
This, by the way, can be referred to as a “set-up”.
He tells me it is “as easy as walking!” and briefly shows me the 1-2-3 pause, 1-2-3 pause waltz step. The large stage is crowded with people, moving en masse in a circular pattern. I struggle to keep up. It’s simple, but somehow I keep ending up on the wrong foot. I get flustered, and the more flustered I get, the more I begin to panic. I can feel my cheeks flush, my body tense, I’m likely sweating, and I am unable to relax enough to “just walk”. I feel embarrassed at my inability to do something so simple (I’m the girl that can whip complicated patterns with fire around her head after all!) and I find myself praying for the song to end. When it ends, I am so relieved that I literally run off the stage. Poor Walter! He had to suffer through not only my terrible dancing, but then a panicked girl making a mad dash away from him!
This experience did not inspire confidence in the partner dancing realm, nor did the salsa lesson where I got confused about the steps and so flustered again that I just couldn’t move. Despite these set-backs, I have somehow managed to take part in a line dancing lesson that did go well, and succumbed to various dancing offers, usually late in the day when my will was weary and finely saturated with liquid courage. Dancing with strangers actually was a great deal of fun at times!
I’ve tried various techniques to avoid dancing, such as making sure I have a beer in my hand while I’m watching the dancing. Eventually this method failed after a guy reasonably said, “Well, set the beer down.” I decided to exchange the beer for my mom’s expensive camera and take photographs. Somehow I think that failed too at one point. It’s a bit laughable I spend so much time ducking or running for cover when partner dancing is concerned. Every year I swear I’ll try to learn. Every year I somehow dance a little, even though I make attempts at avoiding it for the safety of these unsuspecting men and their unsuspecting toes and egos.
You might be wondering how this can be an annual event after reading about my dancing woes. The answer is simple: I always have so much fun – perhaps even when I become flustered attempting the waltz, which is NOT as simple as walking for some of us. Besides, watching other people who actually know how to dance well is incredibly fun. There are some amazing dancers that you can’t help but just watch in awe, not only for their fancy, swanky, hot moves, but also because of their fun energy. 
Photograph by Dolores Fino
The zydeco music is lively, booty-shaking, quick-stepping goodness and I dig the soulfulness of the blues. They have amazing musicians and excellent bands, not to mention some serious eye candy complete with personality and musical talent. Lil’ Wayne and the Same Ol 2 Step, Andre Thierry And Zydeco Magic, Elvin Bishop with Johnny Vernazza, and Geno Delafose & French Rockin’ Boogie are just a few names from the most recent festival.
Photograph by Dolores Fino
I also love checking out all of the different vendors. I make multiple visits to Star’s booth and love the process of getting “tatted up”. The food is delicious and I feel I can never eat enough to taste everything. The first time I had gator-on-a-stick was at this festival. It was also the first time I ate crawfish. Eating new things a little outside your normal boundaries is somewhat exhilarating – especially when it tastes great! There is also something to be said about eating food that pairs with the music, or a region, or the general atmosphere and vibe of a place. I haven’t been to Louisiana (yet….) but I feel I’ve had a teaser taste of it in San Diego and I yearn for more.
Photograph by Dolores Fino
The people are the other reason. The saying, “People make the party” suits this festival perfectly. My mom and I travel well together. We don’t need to be together every moment so there is a lot of meeting up then going off our separate ways and meeting up again. While she is dancing, I often go off exploring. Over the years I’ve met some of her dancing friends and see them here and there throughout the festival. Jan and Walter are two of the people I’ve seen multiple years. Jan is a sweet lady who allowed us to convince her to walk on the “wild side” and get an airbrushed tattoo on her ankle. My mom also got a huge dragon on her back close to her shoulder.
Walter, overflowing with optimism, even braved another impromptu dance lesson with me in the food corridor this year. 
Photographs by Dolores Fino
I mostly wander around alone, and you would think I’d get bored except I don’t at all. I end up meeting complete strangers, like Skeeter from San Antonio, Texas and bonding over our airbrushed face paintings. Somehow it seems effortless to talk to random people and engage in conversations. People often start conversations with me and there is a fair amount of banter, laughter, and the kind of festival bonding that can occur when everyone is having fun and guards are down. My mom is always a little amused at the people I meet. I am often amused as well.
Everywhere you look people are dancing, eating, drinking, socializing, and smiling. A Mardi Gras parade ambles through the crowds around mid-day and a small band leads the parade while playing music, oversized caricatures bob up and down from hand-held poles by others in the parade, and of course there is the tossing of the Mardi Gras beads to people as they pass through.
One booth has hat-making out of paper bags that can be individually customized with various embellishments such as stickers, streamers, ribbons, and other craft supplies. A fellow festival goer had a hat that said, “Voodoo Unto Others Before They Voodoo Unto You”, which amused me. It is a festival of endless entertainment brought to you not just by the organizers and event participants, but the people themselves. The People make a party!
The festival ends in the evening but the party goes on with a band and dancing afterwards inside a Sheraton ballroom. This year I attended the after party and ended up meeting two wonderful ladies, Tracy and Erica, and had a great conversation with them both. I also had brief conversations or encounters with several other people I didn’t know or have only seen around. Eventually, the after party came to an end and I made my way down to the fire pit at the Sheraton, a compelling draw for any fire girl. Some guys I had met previous years were there and it was nice to chat briefly with them again. This was interrupted by someone else I had met the year prior and had spent some time with. We took off to talk and reconnect, which ended up landing me back at the Sheraton in the early morning where my mom was sound asleep by this time.
After so little sleep for 2 days in a row and too much festival fun, I woke up hurting. I rolled off the bed and limped through the room hunched over with my mom all bright and cheery laughing at the state I was in. I looked like one of those depictions of human evolution as a hunched over Neanderthal and throughout the morning evolved into a more upright human being. This was necessary since part of our Mother’s Day tradition is to have the Mother’s Day brunch at the Sheraton Marina Hotel and I’m pretty sure tatted up Neanderthals wouldn’t fit the refined décor.
This brunch is absolutely one of the most fantastic brunches I have ever had in my life, mostly with Vegas and Lake Tahoe for comparison where I have had some pretty amazing brunches. They have everything to make your mouth water for breakfast, plus fresh fruits and berries for a healthy approach, although if you add a portion of whipped cream it can suddenly be dessert. There are a variety of salads, pastas, meats, seafood, and even things like lobster bisque and ceviche. The desserts are phenomenal and range from bite-sized petit fours to single serving cocktail glasses filled with chocolate mousse, whipped cream, and fancy edible decorative chocolate toppings. Every woman gets a rose upon walking in, which is just a lovely Mother’s Day touch.
(My version of “pre” dessert!)
I cannot speak highly enough about the Sheraton Mother’s Day brunch. The only downside (if it could be called that) is the conflict with the Cajun food at the festival. The ability to eat vast amounts of yummy Cajun food becomes severely impaired on Sunday. It’s a trifling conflict, a wonderful candidate for a 1st world problem, and one that every festival goer should be aware of prior to so they don’t end up keeled over on a haystack in a state of extreme gluttony.
After my gluttony, I spent about an hour sipping coffee by the fire pit trying to snap out of my food coma while my mom went to the festival to shake her booty. I finally willed my body to move and headed towards the festival for the last day. As I’m slowly walking through the parking lot, a smiling, robust, black man wearing a classy hat said to me, “Look at you – jus cruisin’ along. Cruisin’ cool!” The woman he was with also smiled at me. I had to break it down for this lovely couple and said, “It was a long night and I can’t move any faster than this.” I continued “cruisin’ cool” to the festival enjoying the ensuing laughter and more banter with the lovely couple.
The weekend never seems long enough and this, along with meeting so many fun people, is just encouragement to go back the next year for more. The time comes to go and as usual, I say my good-byes to Star and a few others like Jan, Thierry, Darin, and Juan on the way out of the gate, and head back to catch the Sheraton’s shuttle to the airport.
By this time I am infused with pure festival energy, my body is covered in airbrushed tattoos, I’ve had my fair share of food and beverages, and underneath all of this excitement and energy I am EXHAUSTED. This makes me somewhat giddy. In short, I become a bit of a terror. There is amusing banter with the shuttle driver over a missing wheel on my mom’s luggage that has me laughing hard and the driver enjoying the scene.
Outside of the airport in San Diego I find myself comparing my airbrushed tattoos with a Marine who has real tattoos. He exposes his ripped stomach to show me a really cool tattoo and I hear myself saying, “Oh yeah? Well check this out!” and turning, show him my Hello Kitty tattoo with the word “OBEY” above it. I told him he would never look at Hello Kitty the same way again.
Photograph by Dolores Fino
Several looks were cast my airbrushed way and my mom and I laughed a great deal about goodness knows what. I wondered if airport security was going to hassle me since I was all tatted up, but they seemed to rush me through fairly quickly. I suppose I looked like a different kind of trouble. While sitting down in the waiting area for the flight, a couple curious people struck up conversation, which I was happy to oblige in. The airline attendant began announcing the Southwest flight and people began lining up under numbered posts for seating positions. My mom and I found our numbers, albeit with a little more difficulty than should have been required. A guy behind me dropped something and said a customary, “I’m sorry” to the surrounding people. I looked back and without missing a beat said, “No you’re not.” He laughed and so did a few others and I was grateful they understood my joke. Then again, how could ANYBODY take me seriously looking like I did?
The announcer continued lining people up and announcing things, such as, “Just as a reminder, this flight is going to San Francisco. If you are not going to San Francisco, this is not your flight.” He said it a few times, so when the line moved forward to hand over our tickets to be scanned before boarding, I asked him in a deadpan voice, “This is going to Kansas, right?” For a full second he looked at me with disbelief before he got the joke. I walked on and he did a double-take looking back at me and my various tattoos, saying to my mom, “Those aren’t real, are they?” She had to explain that they weren’t real as I had traipsed off through the tunnel to the plane. Everyone was amused by the entertainment. If you are going to be looked at as a spectacle, you may as well cause one and enjoy the process. My mother enjoyed walking behind me and watching everyone’s expressions and reactions.
(Doesn’t this girl look like she is a load of trouble?)
Photograph by Dolores Fino
This all continued during the whole boarding process, and it was amusing to see the expressions on people’s faces as they tried not to stare or unabashedly smiled and made comments. I wondered who would be brave enough to sit next to this laughing mother and daughter team and joked about it out loud. A man named Carlos was the brave one who sat down, even perhaps wanted to, and I could see him laughing several times throughout the flight at our conversation and laughter. Once in the air safely, we were offered a range of beverages from the flight attendant who recited the refreshment list as if on auto-pilot. Once he was finished I asked, “Could you repeat that – except backwards?” I don’t think I was able to hold my laughter in long enough for a true deadpan delivery, but it was funny nonetheless. Nobody on that flight was safe from me, and a part of me wondered who the pilot was and if it was perhaps Mike, a guy I met through my wonderful friends Dan and Scott while in Costa Rica. Perhaps it was good he wasn’t, as I was in rare form and I’m not sure he would have survived that encounter without it impacting my ability to tempt him to come to Costa Rica again.
Mother’s Day weekend in San Diego at the Gator By The Bay Zydeco Festival was, yet again for the 4th year running, an incredibly fun weekend. Everyone seems to have fun there but somehow I think my mom and I have the most fun out of everyone. I can’t wait for next year’s festival and who knows – maybe Mike will even be our pilot for next year’s flight – just for an added layer of spectacular fun. I just need to remember to “Voodoo Unto Others Before They Voodoo Unto You”.
lilnablog 