Cajun Palms. I almost crack up every time I say the name of the RV resort we chose for our first stop.  Here on the edge of the Atchafalaya Basin, one side of the road has been cleared and planted with sugar cane that stands about knee high this month. The other side of the road has been cleared and planted with palm trees. Lots and lots of palm trees, each one waving over a concrete pad awaiting an RV. Palms are not native to this part of the world, but they seem to like it here. As did we, despite our first encounter with the quirky side of RV culture, upon which I’ll expound in an upcoming post.

We chose Cajun Palms not for its amazing bar and pool complex or the weekend drinking and line-dancing beside that pool, but purely for its location within easy striking distance of all the exploration we wanted to do in Acadiana during our last week (for awhile) in Louisiana. We packed a lot in to those last few days.

We celebrated Dave’s birthday the first night at a pot luck in an old lumberyard that has been converted to an arts collective, and where on that particular night a gathering of locals and visitors from France celebrated their historic connection. They sang Happy Birthday to Dave in in French accompanied by a band from Brittany.

We made the ten minute drive into Breaux Bridge for the legendary Zydeco breakfast at Café des Amis. The dance floor, inches from our table was packed, while we chowed down on an etouffée topped omelet and a huge boudin-stuffed oreille de cochon pastry.

We visited with long-time friends who live in a beautiful, art-fill Acadian cottage that happens to be just down the road from our home du jour.

We chatted one afternoon with the tiara-topped winners of the Miss and Mrs. Catfish Festival Queen contest who were the guests of honor at a outdoor arts show in charming, historic Washington.

We made a quick stop to see the irises in magnificent bloom at the über-cool, design-award-winning, eco-friendly St. Landry Parish Visitors Center.

We visited the branch of the Jean Lafitte National Park that interprets the lives of those exiled Acadians who ended up in the fertile prairies around Eunice.

At a reception one perfect Spring evening  we chatted with the French Consul to New Orleans about Le Grand Dérangement des Acadiens when they were exiled and then enjoyed the view from a flower-filled deck overlooking Bayou Fuselier—at a beautiful restaurant that is part of the emerging arts community of Arnaudville.

We scored smoked boudin from a drive-through window across the street from our RV park. We at a LOT of boudin this week.

Another morning it was off to Lafayette for a trip down memory lane for me. This is where I got my first job out of college, directing an early morning TV show that was half in Cajun French, half in English. We had sweet potato and pecan pancakes at Dwyer’s Café, the owner of which was once my mess chef when I was a platoon leader for a National Guard unit in Lafayette. I’m convinced we had the best field rations in military history.

We were serenaded that afternoon by a 90-year old volunteer at the charming historic interpretation village of Vermillionville. He teased two young women in the front row asking where their men were and if they were married. “Not in this state,” they answered wryly, smiling at each other, and then gently back at him. We smiled at each other too.

Then it was home for soak in the hot tub and a nap.

Old friends. New Friends. Great food.  Great music. Cultural quirks. Inspiring stories. We’ve only been on the road a week, and we’ve only traveled 100 miles, but so far this adventure is everything we imagined it to be and more. I’ll expand upon much of this in the next few posts.