After consuming piles of crawfish and doing my best to taste varieties of spicy boudin sausage, I headed north from Cajun Country in Southwest Louisiana with a new respect for the strength of local traditions.
For some small understanding of Cajun culture, I am grateful to Barry Jean Ancelet, professor of folklore and Francophone studies at University of Louisiana in Lafayette. He spoke to a conference of the Society of American Travel Writers, stayed around to answer questions, and showed up the same night to share his appreciation for a terrific young Cajun band, Feufollet, above, playing at a popular joint for listening and dancing called the Blue Moon Saloon.
Ancelet says the real story about Cajuns is their adaptability and their innovative culture – something to think about when hurricanes approach from the Gulf of Mexico to the south or raging torrents of water from the north threaten floods, as they do this week to all who will be touched by the waters now rising in the Atchafalaya Basin.
"We are not fragile," said Ancelet.
A common sense approach to survival
"We have survived exile, floods and storms. We'll get through it; we always have. Whole towns are rebuilding after the hurricanes. We're building higher, off the ground. The government wants us out. A Cajun says, 'I don't want to get out. I'm going up.' So he builds a house that sits above the flood water line. It's a blinding simplicity, a common sense approach to surviving."
Part of the strength in survival is wrapped in tradition, which is evident even in eating crawfish and boudin, the local sausage made from pork, rice, onions and spices.
Below, crawfish marching to dinner
Cajuns love crawfish, and acres of crawfish farms in Southwest Louisiana attest to the Cajun appetite. One chef told me he goes through 60 bags of crawfish in one day, and each bag holds 33 pounds.
For a Cajun, eating crawfish implies an expedition, said Ancelet, so no respecting Cajun would eat crawfish in a restaurant near his home. You need to drive at least 5 miles to eat crawfish.
Boudin, on the other hand, is a community food, a local tradition, and each communitiy believes it has the best boudin in Cajun Country. If three Cajuns are standing together, and you ask where to get the best boudin, you may well start a serious argument.
Every Cajun, said Ancelet, believes he knows where to buy the best boudin in the world -- in the world. And it will be within 5 miles of his house.
Traditions and strength of character: Just a little something to keep in mind about the people who live in Cajun Country, as the waters rise in Lousiana this week.
David Molyneaux is editor of TheTravelMavens.com
