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April 12, 2007
To Lafayette
Wow, now it's been a really long time since I've written an update but I will do my best to get back on track and finish unwinding this tale...
On my way out of New Orleans (across the Mississippi River in Gretna or Harvey) I was seeing a few Vietnamese-looking businesses along the way, so I got off of the aerial superhighway thing that I was on and got onto the surface street that ran parallel below. Craving Vietnamese food, I had the good fortune of happening upon Pho Tau Bay Restaurant in a strip mall in front of a bowling alley. I savored their air conditioning (it was hotter than Hades outside) and filled up on veggie spring rolls and soup before getting back on the road. This stretch of road following just south of the river is memorable for its frontage roads boasting all manner of strip malls, strip clubs, auto repairers and other gritty commerce. I remember driving through here on the 1999 No Respect Team Tour with Ryan and Shunsuke, we camped south of the city in Bayou Segnette State Park and this is the scenery on the way to and from New Orleans.
After the meal I jumped back onto Business 90 aka "FUT 49" west and followed it out through the 8 or 10 miles of developed area until eventually the gas stations gave way, first to woods interspersed with dullness, and 30 or 40 miles later to proper Louisiana swamp somewhere around the turnoff for Houma. 90 was kind of a boring Interstate-y highway so after consulting the map I got off near Donner and picked up a smaller highway called 20. I passed a nice little bayou and doubled back for a photo. As I did I saw two black locals fishing on the other side of the road. One of them called out, warning me to be careful because they'd just seen a pack of wild boars near there and they were some of the biggest he'd ever seen ("and he was from there"). I could barely make out what the guy was saying because he talked fast and had a very thick accent, but the fact that he was genuinely startled by said animals was crystal clear. I thanked him and cautiously made my way west, hoping not to cross paths with any angry swamp creatures.
I stopped to stretch my legs and grab a snack at a gas station near Amelia, where I overheard some locals talking. One guy, in his mid-20s and driving a slick SUV was heard to remark "Man, I don't trust no one, all I got is my balls and my word." Poetry on the bayou. There was an edginess at that place, I felt very conspicuous among the shady characters coming and going, which both scared and excited me at the prospects of what lay ahead. I scooted past the shipyards, scrappers and strip clubs in Morgan City and picked up Hwy 182, the local alternative to the MegaHighway 90 (which it runs roughly parallel to, going through great sugarcane fields and small towns). I should note that in southern LA there were lots of billboards for the oil industry, both recruiting people to work offshore AND for lawyers who specialized in cases where workers had been injured working offshore. Nice dichotomy.
Now I could tell that I was getting into Cajun Country as I headed through Franklin and Jeanerette, seeing sights like this crawfish painting, sugar factories and lots of good French names. Also a plethora of interesting little shacks selling Sno Cones, I suppose it makes sense considering how hot as it usually is down there, and that there's such a low overhead to that business...almost like a lemonade stand. Hwy 182 was a nice route, I liked the slow pace and small towns. Around New Iberia I picked up Hwy 86 headed toward Loreauville, my destination being the grave of The King of Zydeco, Mr. Clifton Chenier. Fortunately my Lonely Planet Louisiana and the Deep South guidebook provided a more detailed map than my atlas, supplemented by a friendly stranger in downtown Loreauville pointing me in the right direction. After a series of turns, some 2 or 3 miles out of town I came upon the graveyard, surrounded by humble little farms and sugarcane fields. Near here I'd also seen the sign for the turnoff to Clifton's Place, a dancehall erected posthumously (IIRC) by his widow. After some searching I found the grave and paid my respects in much the same way I'd done for Hank Williams a week or so earlier. After a few quiet moments I was back on the road to take a look at my first authentic zydeco dancehall, not sure what I'd find but picturing something like a juke joint. I was shocked to find an enormous polebuilding in the middle of nowhere, and it really hit home what a rural culture this music belongs to. The place was closed and empty but I could picture it on a hot weekend night, cars everywhere and beautiful music flowing out into the dark fields nearby.
I was almost out of daylight now, pretty far off the main road and a good 30 miles from Lafayette, my destination for the night. I somehow found my way back to civilization in the form of St. Martinville (famous for Longfellow's poem "Evangeline"). I drove in the dark into Lafayette on Hwy 182 and BUS 90, wondering when I'd see some sort of downtown. Well, I basically went all the way through to the opposite outskirts without ever seeing it, turns out there isn't much to see in the way of big buildings. I was quite hungry and looking for a place to stay, and the guidebook said there wasn't much besides crappy chain motels near the highway. Determined, I doubled back to a real sketchy place I'd passed called the Acadian. I liked the name and the price was right, even if the neighborhood was edgy. I got my room, unloaded some gear and was off in search of food and music.
Thinking I might only be in Lafayette for the night, I looked in the guidebook and found recommendations for local Cajun and Zydeco clubs. Craving some red beans and rice, I saw that the highly-recommended Mulate's club in nearby Breaux Bridge (7 or 8 miles away through the Louisiana night) was also a restaurant and had live Cajun music. Sounded perfect, so I rode over to check it out. There was a decent band playing and a "family fun" atmosphere with lots of people dancing, as well as walls adorned with autographed celebrity photos from all of the luminaries who'd been there before me. This place has a proud history and I felt the magic. Unfortunately they didn't have anything I could eat, and I was starving, so back to Lafayette I went after only a couple of songs. It was getting late and a lot of places were closed, so in the end I caved and in desperation, went to a fast food joint; my first-ever trip to Popeye's. I hate their goddamn commercials and shtick, but they make a good cup of rice and beans (and curly fries). I'm afraid to look up the ingredients online, but there's a strong chance they weren't totally vegan. Sorry.
Now that my gut was squared-away, I was off to the highly-rated Zydeco club called El Sid-O's. I happened to catch Curley Taylor and his band that night and they put on a hell of a show. Not really traditional Zydeco, but the newer generation. They had their hearts in it, and that's what counts. More importantly I was transfixed with the beautiful dancing, just sat there in awe of it all. When I approached the club from the outside, I was a little apprehensive, wondering if I'd be the only honky in the place, but hearing those sweet bass lines and accordion sounds in the humid night air there was no way I wasn't going in...you only live once! (and my fears were unfounded, it was a mixed crowd, though the majority were black, and I felt no hostility or ill will from anyone). It was here that I started to fall in love with the people of Acadiana, in addition to the music. It's hard to put it to words, but there's just a friendliness, a joy for life and a laid-back attitude that is very intoxicating. And the music! I hung out for a few hours, awkwardly and shyly declined to zydeco with a beautiful woman, bought a CD from the band, and headed back for a night of rest at the Acadian, really happy to be in Lafayette, LA.
Posted by pj at April 12, 2007 10:03 PM