German Fest, Roberts Cove, La / Oct 2014
Roberts Cove, Louisiana
by Leonard Earl Johnson
A German Fest
in Roberts Cove, Louisiana!
Click for background Deutsch Volksmusik (German folk music).
You laugh? It may tickle the lederhosen off a real German, but this is the best German Festival in the U. S. of A., that I have ever attended. My Mother was German and I have been to a few German Festivals, some mislabeled Oktoberfest -- more on that later.
All German-fests have sausages, potatoes, cabbages, pretzels, beers, singing, Alpenhorns, and yodeling. Roberts Cove has theirs amid the white marble graves of original settlers decorated with colorful German flags. And the Bratwurst -- in Germany and die Nordstaaten (the Northern States) Bratwurst is a mild veal sausage with a strong hint of nutmeg -- in Louisiana it is hot and spicy as die neue Schulemarm (the new School-marm).
|Homepage Roberts Cove Germanfest 2014|
If Oktoberfest ends before October 3 (German Unity Day) it is extended to include it. "Sort of a German Leapfest," L. A. Norma told our seatmates on the train from New Orleans.
German Immigrants were few in French Louisiana, but those who came left their mark on Pelican State history (Pelican Staat Geschichte).
Notably there were the Germans said to have fed the indolent city folk of New Orleans from productive farms on the "German Coast," along Bayou Des Allemonds (French for Bayou of the Germans), 34-miles (54 kilometers) west of Big Swamp City. Amtrak crosses this bayou today but no longer stops at the settlement named Des Allemonds.
One day, coming back from New Orleans on the train, we were treated to three Des Allemonds' boys fishing along the Bayou, dropping their drawers at our approach, and mooning the Los Angeles bound Sunset Limited.
|Bayou Des Allemands looking toward the Gulf of Mexico|
(Bayou des Allemands den Blick auf den Golf von Mexiko)
Roberts Cove is a prosperous rice-growing settlement near Lafayette, Acadiana's "Hub City," and where we left the train that saw the racially integrated naked rear ends.
We were inside the Song Fest Tent, singing, yodeling and listening to Alpenhorns. "Bisschen Deutsch," I answered. She understood "Deutsch," but not "Bisschen".
"A little," I explained, I speak a little German.
We raised our "Bier" and joined in the Rucksack Song (Rucksacksong). Her husband wore nice lederhosen and sang with such gusto I would bet money he had been a Boy-scout and sang these same songs with the same gusto then.
Near Roberts Cove is Hawk's, a crayfish cafe' noted for purging their "mud bugs." Hawk's also prides itself on no signage. Finding it is something of a local game. Outsiders are a double muddled source of entertainment. One day, washing up at the dining-room wash basins, I asked a man where he was from.
The man said, "Down the road."
"Is your name German?"
"No," he said, "further down the road."
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Leonard Earl Johnson,
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