It’s raining, so we change our plans. Instead of the outdoor farmers’ market, we opt for a breakfast with live music in Duson. To be honest, I’m not feeling very hopeful. Music, early in the morning, coffee instead of whiskey or beer… It doesn’t exactly sound thrilling. And the village we’re headed to doesn’t scream rock ’n roll at first glance either. One thing does give me hope: the musician. Geno Delafose is a well-established name in Cajun music — and a Grammy Award winner to boot.

We park among SUVs and pick-up trucks. Snatches of music drift down the street. Accordion, bass, guitar, drums. Outside the restaurant, with its open windows and wide veranda, people are gathered. Inside, there’s no room left. Judging by the empty plates, most have already finished breakfast. On the tables sit coolers packed with ice and beer. It’s just after ten in the morning.

Once we step onto the veranda, the music is suddenly right there. Cajun music. Really good Cajun music! The dance floor is packed. People are two-stepping — young, old, men, women, couples, families, singles. Some have more rhythm than others, but everyone is dancing wholeheartedly. And Geno approves. With tempo and flair, he conducts the entire scene. An elderly man sitting off to the side unhooks his oxygen tank and gives a few steps a go. A Lourdes moment.

Of course, the American South offers amazing cities and stunning natural areas. But it’s the unexpected moments — like this one in Duson — that make travelling here so unforgettable. Despite what political headlines might suggest, nothing on the road has really changed. Ordinary Americans remain open to a stranger who just happens to wander into their lives for a moment. Warm, spontaneous, curious:
‘What the hell are you doing in this neck of the woods?’

Hans Avontuur

WideOyster Editor-at-Large