For the past 20 years, the corners of the French-speaking world have come to Lafayette to share their culture through song, dance and art for Festival International de Louisiane.
But for many, the festival and their journey to this country is as eye-opening as hearing the music of West Africa is for a child who grew up in Scott.
For Intiado Irk, 26, a guitarist and singer with Tinariwen of Mali, Lafayette will be part of his memories of leaving his home country to travel to the United States for the first time. First there was New York City, then the deserts of Arizona that reminded him of home. It was the desert people there, the Navajo, whose struggles and traditions reminded him of his own tribe - the Tamashek.
"It was like I knew it well," Irk said. He speaks little English, so his tour manager, Bastien Gsell, translated.
It's the band's first time to play Festival International, but its members didn't have much time to experience Acadiana as tourists. They have a show in Manhattan on Monday.
"We are ready to see everywhere," Irk said.
"He would like to do the show," Gsell laughed. "And see the Gulf of Mexico. We'll have to look at the map and see if we can make that trip before we drive back to Houston. We are curious about it and we hear about the hurricane. We would like to see more."
The touristy draws of alligators and swamps weren't that appealing to Irk.
"There is one crocodile where he lives in the desert." Gsell said, explaining that a Frenchman brought the crocodile as a novelty.
And the food?
Well, in general Irk and his bandmates aren't that impressed with American cooking, but Cajun cooking brought another reaction.
Irk grinned.
"C'est bon," he said.
Gsell said that as the band toured the United States, they've mostly had fast food.
"It is difficult to find quality food. We don't eat the same things. We eat a lot of meat, lamb, camel and beef," Gsell said.
Irk sat in dark blue jeans belted with a silver buckle. An eagle spread its wings in the silver. It's a keepsake from Arizona.
"Cowboy," Irk laughed.
"Everything he sees he wants to buy," Gsell said. When he translated his comment for Irk, the man laughed. Irk nodded his head.
The band sings songs of their nostalgia for the desert, Gsell said.
When the band took to the stage the first time Friday, they were dressed in their desert robes.
"When we are not in the desert we are lost," Gsell laughed.
Other performers who have also felt lost have found themselves at festival.
Ten years ago, Frenchman Bernard Laurence played Festival International for the first time, sharing his blues en français as well as old standards. As a boy in France, his fascination with the blues grew when he heard music from blues artists. He moved to Boston in 1979 to study music. He now lives in Rhode Island.
"I was a white French guy playing black music living in Boston. I made no sense at all," Laurence said. "But everything made sense when I played this festival. Here, it didn't matter. People just heard the music."
Laurence returned last week to play the festival's 20th anniversary. After opening ceremonies Thursday, he ran into Herman Mhire, who was credited as one of the festival's founders and shared the moment with him. Laurence recalled that day 10 years ago well. He played in the heritage tent. Before his performance, was a panel of healers and storytellers.
"It was getting in my mind," Laurence said. "I'm scattered in pieces. I have an African grandfather, a German grandmother, French parents and I'm living in New England. Hearing these people talk about the healing power of sound and heritage affected me greatly."
But then he had to take the stage. Laurence's eyes grew wider as he described how nervous he was. He picked up his guitar and began playing a blues riff.
"I started playing this groove," he said playing the riff as he spoke. His said the words in time with the music. "I was knocked out. People were moving. People were clapping. In Boston, you have to bust your butt playing for three hours to get someone to move their foot and then the show is over! The whole set was an epiphany. I got a standing ovation. I felt like Miss America!"
The feeling never left him.
"I was knocked over on so many levels. I almost missed my plane."
Laurence is back in the Scène Héritage stage today at 1:30 p.m., playing the music that had him dreaming about Louisiana as a child.
Louisiana has enchanted Laurence since he was 10 years old. That's when he first heard Jelly Roll Morton. He closed his eyes.
"I would close my eyes and try to figure out what city that came from," he said, bobbing his head and whistling. "New Orleans. That was my Never Never Land. To this day, that music has never changed and it's as joyful as it's ever been."
