WanderLautz: Caught in Betty’s Web

Awoke early to a sound, light and rain show in the Walmart parking lot. Even though it was full daylight, the thunderclouds were dark enough to make me wonder. Some trucks kept going on I-10, but most sane people stayed off the road during the deluge. I made myself a fresh pot of coffee, got comfortable and watched the show through the panoramic back windows of my sweet Lazy Daze.

Once the storm front passed, it was time to go shopping at Walmart. The unspoken rule is that if you stay overnight, you shop. I've been wearing my limited wardrobe pretty hard these past few months. I'm also quite short of clothing for hot and muggy weather. Aaaannd, I'm thinking I want to look good at the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival, 'ya know! So, Walmart it is, and a pretty successful clothes shopping trip it was. You might spot a new dress or two in later posts.

After the rain, I went outside to run the Tracker engine and lubricate the transmission. It was deader than a doornail, not even a glimmer of a turnover. Rats! I had left the key in the accessory position, and I think it drained the battery dead. Note to self: when remaining hitched up for the night, remove the electrical umbilical cable and the key, then reinstall the next morning.

What to do? Just tow it as is, fortunately the turn signals still worked? Or, unhitch, turn the Lazy Daze around, jump the battery, run the engine for awhile, rehitch and then depart? I elected the first option.

I was only about an hour's drive away from Betty's RV Park in Abbeville. The drive to Betty's was through very flat, bucolic, rural south Louisiana Cajun country, passing through little towns with names like Meaux (pronounced "mow" as in "mow the lawn"), Mermentau, Gueydan (pronounced gay-dan), Le Gros, Lejeune, and of course finally to Abbeville, in Vermillion Parish.

Rice fields were all along the way, flooded in preparation for planting. It was curiously nostalgic, reminding me of the flooded rice paddies of my childhood in Japan. Except that there were these curious mesh pots with red lids, spaced regularly and mostly submerged in the fields. My intense curiosity didn't help to identify these objects.

Betty's RV Park has 17 sites and is in a residential area in Betty's back yard, at the outskirts of Abbeville. Betty is very friendly; there is a de rigeur happy hour at 4:30 pm when all the campers get to introduce themselves. Various instruments come out of the RVs. The world comes to Betty's RV Park in Abbeville. Everyone makes a reservation, then extends their stay, too much fun.

My spot, right in the front row.

Upon arriving at Betty's I unhitched, jumped the Tracker, left it running for a half an hour, and got settled into my site. After registering, my first question to Betty was about those doggone things in the flooded rice fields.

Crayfish traps! Aha! Betty has one hanging in her eclectic collection of art objects at the happy hour pavilion. The rice farmers get two crops per year, rice and crayfish. Later I saw these very shallow flat boats with a paddle wheel contraption at the bow, harvesting the traps. It is the height of crawfish season in these parts, every little corner bar advertising crawfish boil.

Betty recommended the Saturday morning brunch and Cajun dance at Cafe Des Amis in Breaux Bridge. I'm sooo right there. I even got to dance a couple of numbers by standing near the bar at the dance floor, bouncing in time, smiling, and looking hopeful. Here's a photo of me and Leon, who is justifiably famous in these parts for his Zydeco dancing. I was immensely pleased to dance two dances with him. Except that at one point I tripped up and Leon laughed and said "Caught 'ya thinkin!" Guilty as charged. Don't think, just dance.

Saturday afternoon, I went to the Cajun jam session at the Museum Cafe in Erath with Louie and Chari. Chari writes and sings country and gospel music. She performed a set of her music at the jam session. The musicians that came on and went off the stage were all really good. Got to dance a little bit there too, check it out!

Chari and Louie.

Joe, a friendly local musician.

The jam session gets going. Dave, the guitarist in the blue shirt is really good.

My waltzing partner.

Chari, singing.

I also got a chance to go to Angell's Whisky River Landing, in Henderson, LA. Its a dance hall on the swamp side of the levee holding back the Atchafalaya River and swamp. The band was advertised as Cajun but it was really what they now call "swamp pop" with much more heavily amplified instruments, and an electric bass instead of a stand up bass. Couldn't get anyone to dance with me there. But we left and went to Randol's in Lafayette for dinner and to listen to the band there. There were very few dancers, but one couple was really good. I struck up a conversation with them, and lo and behold, Lester was originally from California and knew all about the Eagles Hall and the Friday night zydeco dances there.

Chari and I took quite a liking to each other. When she found out I didn't have any sisters, she offered to be my sister and for some reason, this offer really moved me. When I left Betty's RV Park, I wept at leaving the unexpected friendship I received from Chari. I hope our paths cross again soon.