Dec. 7, 2012 – Finding Acadiana

We’d found what we were looking for.

“Francais?” Gabriel and I asked the driver immediately after approaching his truck.

“Bien sur!” he exclaimed.

We told Riquael we were aiming for Scott, La., a village in the heart of Cajun country. He smiled, ushered us into the back, and took off 20 miles down the back roads and into town.

Gabriel and I were thrilled. We had both come to Lafayette for the same reason: to explore the Acadian diaspora in Louisiana and check out how much French was left in the region.

I had met Gabriel – a hitchhiker from Saguenay, Que. – a few days before at the Blue Moon Saloon. We’d been hanging out ever since, sharing stories, comparing strategies, and endlessly discussing life on the road.

We only spoke French together, a welcome change for him after two straight months of English in America.

We’d also been buoyed by the French we’d already found around Lafayette. Days earlier, I had gone for breakfast at the French Table, a once-weekly get-together for Lafayette locals who want to keep up their French. We also found plenty of young people who were thrilled to chat with a couple Canadians.

Once in Scott, we struck up conversation with a ady who told us to get to La Maison de Begnaud that night for Mama Ridell’s Cajun Jam.

Hours later, we were hanging with Jourdan on the front porch, waiting for the others to show up. When he found out we hadn’t yet eaten Boudin, the local dish, he insisted on buying us some before the jam.

Mama Ridell showed up moments later. She was exactly what I picture. The big, old, cheerful lady gave us all hugs, bellowing “bienvenue!”

Musicians and spectators gradually trickled in. A five-man crew of guitars, fiddles and an accordion kicked things off, but that number swelled to about 12 as time passed.

At one point, 14-year-old Jake stood up and passed his accordion to Don, 86, a former pro who could only play for a short time due to a rickety elbow.

They all loved having guests for the night. As we parted, Mama Ridell urged us to come meet the group when they travelled up to New Brunswick for July’s Acadian festival.

We felt pretty good as we caught a ride back into Lafayette. And we barely got through the Blue Moon doors before Lynne cut us off and excitedly told us to help ourselves to the big pot of stew she’d just cooked up.

C’est ça la vie.