Mamou

 I lucked (bon-chanced?) into Mamou using a way of trip planning that combines the old and the new. The old part: studying a map. The new part: it was Google Maps with Street View. My goals were to favor the older highways, find old hotels, and look for little towns with a small grid (or better yet, circle) of streets.

Mamou had a sweet looking little grid and as I street-viewed the main drag I saw this:

Hotel Cazan (which is for sale, btw)

I gave the hotel a call and inquired about rooms, and the owner, Valerie Cahill, was like, "you must come, oh the memories you will make!" After we hung up, she texted me an article about Hotel Cazan from The Acadiana Advocate, detailing its rich history. It was in this article that I learned Anthony Bourdain stayed there over Mardi Gras filming his "Southern Louisiana" episode, and yes, his room was available for December 5th.

Better still, I learned that Fred's Lounge, across the street, is the Cajun music capital of the world. Further, on Saturday mornings at 8am they jam Cajun tunes - no cover charge. And I needed to stay on a Friday night. What? Of all the gin joints in Louisiana, I had zoomed in on the jackpot. Laissez les bons temps rouler! 

Yesterday, in the last of the daylight, I rouler'd into Mamou and checked into Room 11, the Bourdain room and also my dad's favorite number. Luck-intensifies. I met Valerie, the gracious host with the most, where she had stocked my fridge with gratis water and Michelob. She advised me that, prior to heading to Fred's in the morning, I should eat something. "Even if you don't usually eat breakfast, at least have a doughnut... to soak up the alcohol." She also reminded me to not smoke and to please not leave chicken bones under the bed.

I slept peacefully in the Bourdain room, which is saying something for me lately! No chicken bones were involved.

This morning I opened my window to see Valerie walking her dogs. The cat, Mr. Lawrence, likes to join her and the pups. She called up to me, "Look under your door!"

Awwwwww.

Following Valerie's wise advice, I walked down to The Mou Latte and had this pecan muffin confection that was guaranteed to soak up at least one morning Michelob.

One hears Fred's before getting there.

Sorry, this is all the video I have of the inside action, but I wanted to spend my time grooving. Doesn't do it justice anyway. Tune in yourselves on Saturdays

Mr. Barry was seated next to the drummer, triangle at his right side. He looked up and told me I was beautiful. I get the sense Mr. Barry may have said that to a few other women as well, but it sure made me smile. I asked if I could get a picture.

The handwriting on this iconic sign is now printed on the back of Fred's Lounge tee shirts, including the one Mr. Barry is wearing.

After a bit of boogie, I found a seat at the bar next to Mr. Warren Faul, raised in nearby Eunice and 87 years young. He asked me if I could understand the French and chuckled when I replied, "un petit peu." In between songs he would make the time-out sign with his hands and tell me stuff about himself and his life. Widowed for 55 years and had three boys under 10 when his wife passed. One a 17 month old. Mr. Warren never remarried.

When he found out about my Borden ancestry he told me about working on Borden milk trucks in Houston for a time. He told me about his sister-in-law named Cynthia. I wish I could have listened to more stories, but we only had the brief time-outs between the songs. 

Mr. Warren Faul and I. This pic does not do him justice but it is all I have. 

Thanks Mr. Warren, Mr. Barry, Ms. Valerie, and all the Mamou krewe for making my morning bright. I hope this post finds you all; I appreciate you taking the time to entertain a stranger.