Swapping Poutine for Po’boys

A story about an aimless man's fascination with an underrated region.

Story written and narrated by: Glenn Vanderkloet

Tunes in this episode: “Narration Theme Music” - Andrew Couch

“Down South” - Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers

Photo Credit: “Breaux Bridge” - Glenn Vanderkloet

Swapping Poutine for Po'boys

I've always had trouble articulating my fondness for the American Deep South. For the sake of clarity, and because there are multiple definitions, I'm talking about the states of Georgia, Alabama, South Carolina, Mississippi, and Louisiana. Tennessee, Arkansas, and North Carolina are technically Mid South, I think, but know that I'm including them here as well.

My partner and I, who, for contextual reasons are Canadian, have travelled extensively in the region, and when people ask me why, I find it hard to give a lucid response. I typically rattle off something about music, food, and warm weather, but it never sounds convincing to me or them. I think this is partly because I'm reluctant to describe my affection for this often maligned part of America. I'm reluctant because too many folks don't seem to understand or care why someone would vacation in Mississippi or Alabama and I don't feel like building a persuasive argument for the benefit of unimaginative people. If someone can't figure out why a region of such cultural and historical significance would be interesting to visit, then I'm not sure they deserve an explanation. The other reason it's so difficult is because it's a complicated place and frankly, it's hard to easily summarize why I love it so much. It's not easy putting abstract beauty or the way a place makes you feel into words. Sometimes, it's just less of a headache to be vague.

In some unenlightened circles, the stereotypes of the region, from southerners are rednecks to the South is not progressive, seem to carry more weight than the reality on the ground. Pop culture doesn't help, with several lazy films and books that trot out these hackneyed ideas. It's exhausting trying to explain the nuance and complexities of the South to someone who only knows these stereotypes. It's akin to talking about other esoteric things that bring me joy. Music is a great example. I like a lot of offbeat, yet brilliant musicians who aren't backed by elaborate marketing machines, and I've tried, mostly in vain, to turn others on to some of these artists. What I've learned is that some people just aren't interested in trying to find beauty in hard to reach places. It's either immediately appealing or else it's destined for the landfill. If you tell someone you are going to Italy or The Maldives, they immediately perk up and start excitedly peppering you with questions, but if you say that you are heading to Montgomery or Hattiesburg, they look at you quizzically and respond with a barely audible, “That sounds nice.” I'm not trying to suggest that I'm at the vanguard of what's hip, in fact, I'm saying the opposite. I'm the furthest thing from hip, I just enjoy hunting for beauty in strange and overlooked places, and at times, that can be isolating. But I've mostly made peace with that.

I was first introduced to the South via family road trips throughout the U.S. when I was a kid. That introduction, however, was fleeting as it was mostly just passing through on the way to Disney World or Major League Baseball spring training. The most culturally significant thing we did was grab some boiled peanuts at a rest stop and continue on to Florida. It wasn't until my brother did some travel nursing in North Carolina, and my parents' and I would drive down to visit, that my fascination with the South began.

It started with the strange menu items at the restaurants we visited. From hush puppies and fried okra to black-eyed peas and grits. And what the heck did meat n' three mean? The interstate billboards that advertised for local products and businesses were also foreign, and some were pretty damn funny. What was the Piggly Wiggly or the Chik-fil-A? What about Sweet Tea or Cheerwine? I had also never experienced heat and humidity like that before. I was a wide eyed kid in the back of my parents' car, dripping with sweat, and pointing out all my new discoveries. The place just felt different as well. This is the part that's hard to put my finger on. People seemed happier and more engaged. They smiled more frequently and were more hospitable. Whether it was the attendant pumping our gas or the waitress at Bojangles, people seemed to give a shit about you and themselves. There was an absence of cynicism that was refreshing. Somehow, I felt more at home in the South than I did in my own country. That sounds like hyperbole but I assure you it's not. I have an off the cuff theory that folks in the South have been through a lot of adversity and that makes them less likely to take things for granted. It lends an immediacy and a no bullshit vibe to the place. It makes you feel alive and part of a collective that cares deeply about each other. Feel free to laugh at my theory. I'm no academic.

After those trips to visit my brother, I wanted to learn everything there was to know about the region. What was this place? And how was it possible that only a mere twelve hours south by car could land me somewhere that felt so distinct and original? Strange accents, different foods, less pretense, and an uncommon warmth and energy radiating from the residents. Where I lived in Eastern Ontario, a twelve hour drive north and a bit west brought us to Wawa. Still Ontario, still plenty of Tim Horton's donut shops, still the same wintry stares, and the locals still said “aboot” and “eh.”

This was definitely a big part of the intrigue for me. Knowing that a days drive could put me in a completely different culture and to top it off, there was no language barrier. I could ask the locals whatever I wanted to know and have it explained in English, thereby satisfying my nearly insatiable curiosity. A rich, immersive cultural experience without getting on a plane or learning a new language. My brother's stint living in North Carolina piqued my interest, and I thought about the South a lot, even after he had moved on.

In the intervening years between visiting my brother and becoming old enough to take trips down south without my parents, I acquired a ton of knowledge about the region through books and documentaries. I learned about the Civil War, the Civil Rights Movement, the roots of American music, southern food culture and more. Now that I was equipped with some context for the area, I couldn't wait for further exploration.

It would be after purchasing my first reliable car in my mid twenties that my partner and I began what was to become an annual two week or so road trip to the South. Starting in 2009 and carrying on to the present day, we've covered a lot of ground. From Charleston in the east, Cajun Country in the west, and Mississippi, Alabama, and Georgia in between, It's been a hell of a lot of fun. Civil War battlefields, Civil Rights museums and landmarks, art galleries, baseball games, live music, and counter service, southern diners have kept us educated, entertained, and well fed along the way. I've fallen hard for Atlanta, Memphis, New Orleans, and the Gulf Coast, not to mention Muscle Shoals, Athens, Georgia, and Oxford, Mississippi. If I could only travel to one region for the rest of my days, I'd pick the deep southern states and there wouldn't be a close second.

I'm still not sure that I've succeeded in articulating my fondness for the South in a concise way. I always feel like I start rambling mid description and maybe that's the way it will always be. Maybe my attraction is as simple as my interest in history and music coalescing in one place. Or it could be that it's something more abstract and intangible. It's a charged area, thick with history and ghosts. As thick as the humidity or the kudzu vines. The people seem more interesting to me just for being born there. There's a vitality and a fullness that I feel when I walk around the South. Again, I feel like I'm part of something bigger than my own trivial hangups.

Any southern native listening to or reading this probably thinks I've consumed several peyote buttons, but I can confirm that these feelings are all natural. I get it though. Perhaps if I was born there or lived my entire life in the region, my feelings would be different. As they say, the grass is always greener on the other side. With that cliche in mind, I won't be applying for my green card any time soon. I'll hold tight to my romantic ideals and keep my twelve hour distance by car, while dreaming of the next time I can peruse the aisles at the Piggly Wiggly in search of pimento cheese and a case of Cheerwine.