At the Atlanta airport, one of the possible stopovers to reach Louisiana, the diligent passport control officials demonstrate all their inquisitive curiosity when they discover the traveler's destination: "Lafayette? And what are you going to do in Lafayette?" The capital of Cajun Country does not occupy a prominent place on the tourist or business map, but it is from there that the journey of one of the most electrifying states in the United States begins.
The Cajun homeland is located in southern Louisiana, the then much larger territory that Napoleon sold for $15 million to the United States in 1803, just three years after having seized it from Spain. If we add to this change of ownership the drama of slavery that for centuries brought thousands of African deportees to the Mississippi Delta, we obtain a first outline of the melting pot of cultures that populates this green and swampy plain.
Cajun is the Anglophone distortion of the French Acadiens, the settlers who in the early 17th century settled in a territory called Acadia in Nova Scotia, Canada. About 150 years later, they were expelled by the British and later welcomed in Spanish Louisiana. They settled in the swampy areas, the bayou, south and west of the port of New Orleans, and began to mix their culture with that of Native Americans and settlers of German, Irish, Spanish and English descent.
Lafayette, which proclaims itself "the happiest city in America," is the center of this legacy, also being the family alternative to bustling New Orleans. As throughout the delta and on the banks of the Mississippi, in Alabama and further up to Memphis, in Tennessee, the rhythm of the day is set by music, capable of merging cultures and alleviating, in part, the violence of slavery. To these waters the world owes blues, jazz and rock and roll: no It is surprising that every occasion is a good one to get together, play, listen and dance, in places, parks and streets.
In Laffy the soundtrack is zydeco, a hybrid between Cajun sounds and syncopated rhythms of Creole origin, obtained by rubbing the frottoir, similar to a laundry board. The powerful gastronomy is also the result of fusion: from the inevitable gumbo, a chicken or fish stew accompanied by rice, to boudin, a sausage similar to botifarra, and jambalaya, a concept similar to paella, with rice, vegetables , meat and fish. Of course, everything tends to be spicy.
One of the most famous sauces in the world is also born here, Tabasco, made since 1868 on Avery Island, a salt dome near the city. The factory, owned by the McIlhenny family, is the only one in the world and has a museum and all the related souvenirs. In these parts, however, the main dish is red river prawns, crawfish. They are cooked boiled in water, onion, chilli and paprika and served in large pots accompanied by ears of corn.
Caden and Teddy are two cooks who tirelessly prepare these crustaceans in their kitchen truck for the countless restaurants in the area. As soon as they notice a foreign accent, they whistle to offer a sample of the delicacy. Southerners are open, smiling, curious; They love to tell legends and have a ready answer, perhaps invented, for everything. If you can decipher his tortuous accent, of course.
In Lafayette, it is worth visiting the Vermilionville Historic Village, from the original name of the city, where a typical Cajun village is reproduced, with costumed actors who recreate the living conditions and local customs in the 19th century, also immortalizing the moment when the The federal government imposed the abandonment of the French language, now relegated to a small minority.
About thirty kilometers away is the Atchafalaya Basin, the largest swamp in the United States, where more than 65 species of reptiles and 250 species of birds live. The journey through the waters, which can be done aboard the typical Airboat, meanders between sinuous and disturbing bald cypresses, which seem to emerge from a green meadow of mosses, water lilies, lilies and wild orchids. And, suddenly, camouflaged among the trunks, almost motionless, the star of the swamp appears: the alligator.
Shalisa, originally from these marshes, born on the bayou as John Fogerty would say, warns skeptical tourists that they have to be careful, because “in Louisiana the alligators are everywhere; No, seriously, everywhere,” not just on restaurant menus. From Lafayette, heading west on Highway 10, the country's southernmost highway that connects the two oceans, you can stop in Lake Charles. Of course, the trip is synonymous with a private car: the border does not love public transport.
In fact, here the United States does not disappoint, and offers what is expected of them: very long cafes and huge pick-ups, cities that have arisen around highways where the best restaurants look like, and sometimes are, gas stations; places where drive-thru daiquiri thrive, paradoxical establishments where giant cocktails are delivered directly to the car window. A country of hyperreal surrealism, where everything is exactly as it seems, even if it seems incredible.
Lake Charles, overlooking the lake of the same name, is considered the festival capital of Louisiana, a title of some importance considering that there are festivals here for everything and practically every week. About 60 kilometers from the city you can experience a typical local family fun: fishing for blue crab, armed with a net and a chicken thigh that serves as bait and hook.
Going down to the Gulf of Mexico, you reach Holly Beach, a wide beach where houses built on stilts of more than twenty meters stand to resist the waves. There are also several resorts and casinos nearby, where cutting-edge cuisine, such as that of chef Lyle Broussard, who boldly mixes all the cultures he fancies, is a feast for the eyes. Less for the line, as demonstrated by the size of most of the stores.
You can't leave Louisiana without visiting New Orleans, about a three-hour drive to the east. The Big Easy is still wounded, with some problems with street violence, but with its spirit intact and largely recovered from the apocalypse of 2005. Residents place the events of their lives with an unequivocal and biblical “before Katrina” and “after of Katrina.” Resiliencity continues to be that sensual chest that contains slow and constant rhythms, voodoo spells, tropical sultriness, explosive gastronomy and overflowing humanity, smells of the swamp, fried foods and magnolias.
Under the picturesque balconies of the French Quarter, aboard the St. Charles Tramway, in the bucolic idyll of the Garden District or subjugated by the compressed and latent energy of the Tremé, strolling through this lazy and sleepy, but at the same time restless, city, responds to Satchmo's sung question: "Do you know what it means to miss New Orleans?" The secret of its charm is pollution, explains taxi driver-sorcerer Aaron, while giving away photos of his Indian costume for the Mardi Gras parade: "The river is the highway that opens us to the world, and here you will never find two identical gumbos." .
Behind the hubbub of brass bands and street musicians, many homes in the French Quarter appear empty. Abandonment or definitive surrender to tourism? It is difficult to decipher the state of the art of a city where for every Bourbon Street, a showcase of the most ostentatious decadence, there is still a Frenchman Street, where you can convince yourself that you have found what you were looking for, in the footsteps of Jelly Roll Morton, Louis Armstrong , Fats Domino, Dr John and Luis Prima. At the end of the day, even if everything is a lie, it is very well told; so, between an oyster and a glass of Sazerac, laissez les bons temps rouler.
