NEWS

Mile High visitor stirred by Acadiana's open arms and overflowing plates

Trevor Hughes
Music fans watch as Brother Dege performs during the kick-off party for Festival International de Louisiane at the Blue Moon Saloon  in Lafayette, Monday, April 21, 2014. 

Paul Kieu, The Advertiser

Sitting on the open porch of Johnson's Boucaniere watching sheets of rain cascade off the metal roof with a bottle of Swamp Pop sweating in my hand, it's hard to remember that I was in Denver just three hours ago.

I've flown in from Colorado on the inaugural United Airlines direct flight between Denver and Lafayette — airport firefighters showered our jet with their hoses to celebrate our arrival — and now I'm touring around the city and Acadiana. First, to eat.

That's a recurring theme I've come to notice here. Everyone wants to know where I've eaten, what I've eaten, and to share what they're eating. People I've met five minutes before insist on sharing their breakfast or dinner.

Denver has tons of great places to eat, so eating well isn't a change. But the way people here put together the same ingredients is totally different. In fact, being in Lafayette feels like being in a totally different country from Denver. From the air, green fields and muddy rivers fill my eyes, a far cry from the high alpine desert in which I live, now just a two-hour flight away.

Trevor Hughes

Outside Johnson's the air hangs heavy, and I feel like I can push through it as I walk across the parking lot dodging raindrops still pouring down. This storm in two days brings Lafayette as much rain as Denver will get this entire month. The Mile High City tends to be dry and clear. Here, the air is thick with oxygen and Louisiana accents. Street signs are in French. Fleur-de-lis decorate buildings and cars and wrists.

Friends who haven't visited Acadiana for themselves wondered aloud before I came whether I'd need an interpreter or subtitles to understand how folks here talk. Nope. I was surprised, in fact, by the softness of most people's accents. My home state is such a hodgepodge of Americans that it's hard to tease out what even makes up a Colorado accent. When I asked some longtime locals about it, however, their Louisiana drawls instantly got deeper and slower.

Now, David Allemond doesn't have to put his accent back on, and that makes it bit hard to understand just exactly what he's shouting at me as we blast through the Atchafalaya Basin on his new airboat.

Based out of McGee's Landing, Allemond leads boat tours of the swamp so visitors can see the birds and alligators that call it home. Right now, Allemond might be pointing out a young osprey taking flight. He might be explaining how the railroad and then the interstate bridge changed the area where his father grew up. He might be talking about the old oil platform or explaining how the ever-clever Henry Ford managed to get cypress running boards for his Model Ts at the same time he was buying Spanish moss for seat-cushion stuffing.

But it's sorta hard to tell since Allemond has the airboat's Corvette engine screaming as the teflon-coated boat skims across the water. The ear protectors aren't helping me understand, either, so when he cuts the motor, the silence roars in my ears as we watch a gator swim alongside the boat. No, friends, I didn't try to wrestle it.

I didn't eat gator on this visit, and it wasn't even on the menu of any of the restaurants I tried. I did get my fair share of shrimp and oysters, and to test out some beers from Bayou Teche Brewery at their plant near Arnaudville. On Wednesday night, I got to have a few more of them, along with some Canebrakes, while watching a Cajun jam at Blue Moon.

I know I'm missing festival season, but the music from the acoustic jam at the Moon shows off the Cajun culture and hints at the rich cultural heritage people share here. An older gentleman — he's both older and more gentlemanly than me, by the way — politely asks to dance with each of the young women who've brought me here tonight.

What strikes me about Lafayette is how deeply people seem to love it here. They love their football team and the way the light filters through the Spanish moss after a rainstorm. They love to talk about how hot it is, and hoist another local beer to beat the heat. They love visitors and childhood friends alike, eager to show off the best of their city.

And they keep asking: When will you be back?