Sunday - Ice cream for dinner

Ten hours' sleep - that's what I needed.

I go to the gym and do my "Body Balance" class, feeling very grateful for the serenity of the movement.  And this time I stay for the five minutes of meditation.

Meanwhile, my husband takes Eneias for a drive in the Adelaide Hills.

In the afternoon I relax, steaming my throat, wrapping a birthday present for my mother, checking that I have everything for the second and final show. 

I make arrangements for my mother to be collected and brought to the theatre.

The day passes quickly, and soon it is time to head to The Promethean for the sound check and technical rehearsal.

This is the only time in the whole week that there is tension between us, as we attempt to correct the errors from the previous night's performance, without blaming each other.  We go over the trouble spots and resolve the problems.

Two guys arrive to shoot video of the show.  I show them where to set up their tripod.

Suddenly it is time for the doors to open, and people begin to swarm into the theatre.

The backstage area is more spacious than at last night's venue, but it is still pretty basic, doubling as a kitchen for the provision of cheese platters.

We both feel a bit nervous, and we deal with it in very different ways.  Eneias dances around the room.  I sit in silence, breathing quietly.  Cultural differences!  The techie comes into the room and Eneias leads us in a team energy-booster.

Then it is time for me to head out onto the stage to open the show.

The venue wants a break during the show for people to buy drinks.  During this interval, I suddenly realize - we've done it!  There are just four songs left.  We are now so near the end, we might as well just go for it; enjoy ourselves.

When I sing the song that is the climax of the show (the "title song") "Non-Stop To Brazil", I feel genuine emotion.

There are a lot of Brazilians in the audience.  They are noisy and exuberant.  At the end of the show Eneias addresses them from the stage in Portuguese and they go wild.  I have to translate for the rest of the audience.

Tongue-in-cheek, I thank the Australian Department of Immigration - "With love and kisses!!"

After the last song we come back onto the stage, to find that everyone is still there.  No one is making a move.  So I ask if we can do one last song - The Girl From Ipanema.  It goes down a treat.

There is much indecision about what to do after the show.  We go with my family - my husband, two children and my mother (it's her birthday) - to a gelato place.  The only seating is a long bench, so we sit in a line facing the ice cream cabinet, and are tempted to try several flavours.

It's not every day that ice cream is dinner.

Friday - Magic happens

Suddenly, the show is tomorrow.  I let Eneias have a sleep-in, while I have a manicure.

I collect him from his hotel and we make our way to the place in the Mall where we are performing in the Fringe Funhouse showcase.  A fat woman in a sparkly leotard is doing some gyrations on the stage, to an audience of shoppers and other onlookers.

The act before ours has not arrived, and we are asked if we are willing to go on early.  We agree.

We go on stage straight after a circus act that includes two girls doing contortions with hula hoops.  The nice song that I am about to sing feels a bit incongruous.  I greet the audieince, "We are Non-Stop From Brazil!!" - sounds a bit like the name of a band.

The cable they have given to Eneias is too short, and it falls out of his guitar before the end of the first song.  He compensates by vocalizing into the microphone.

We perform three songs.  Neither of us can hear ourselves properly.  The people in the audience don't look like customers for our show.  It doesn't matter.  It's another opportunity to perform together.  Our songs go pretty well, all things considered.

We depart, Eneias still muttering about the terrible sound system.  I assure him that the sound will be much better in our venues.

We go back to my place, have lunch and relax for a few hours.  I'm having trouble with the Portuguese words of one song.  I don't properly understand the syntax - is there a subjunctive in there?  We repeat the lines together a few times, until I feel confident.

Then we start to rehearse quietly.  The songs come together.  I feel more at ease.  The music is calm and settled.  It feels like magic.

We have dinner at a restaurant where my friend Fred is performing Brazilian music.  We run into a road block for the Fringe Parade, have to change our route, and arrive late.  The waiter says "You are late.  You are lucky we have not given your table away."  I apologise and we take our seats, observing that there are several empty tables around us.  Eneias is delighted with the music.  He leaps to his feet, grabs his bread plate and knife and joins Fred, excitedly tapping the bottom of the plate in rhythm.  I follow them, taking photos and video.  Out of the corner of my eye, I see the head waiter giving me a sign.  He is not pleased.  This is to stop.

For the rest of the evening we are in disgrace.  Every few minutes we giggle loudly.  Clearly, I can never return to this restaurant.

We don't stay for dessert.  We both want to get out of there.  We walk along the street in search of gelato.  Each time one of us says "Travessos!" (naughty people), we burst out laughing like a couple of kids.  We are no longer mere acquaintances but a pair of friends, bonded in a bizarre experience.

That night I lie awake, knowing I should sleep; that I need the sleep, but words, tunes and rhythms dance in my head, vying for my attention, and my heart pounds to remind me that I am alive.

Thursday - trashed and terrified

Today we have our final rehearsal with my teacher.  We are to play our entire program, from start to finish.

The musical arrangements are quite complicated.  Yesterday we figured out what we were going to do, but this morning my teacher has lots of feedback for us on every song, and now I can't remember what we decided, even with the help of my scribbled notes.

I can't refer to notes on stage.  I need to know what we are doing.

I haven't been sleeping well, and my head is in a spin.

My voice is tired from yesterday's long rehearsal, and I'm holding back so as not to make it worse.  She demands better technique from me.  She has so much to say, there is no time to write notes or even to process it in my brain.

Actually my voice feels very strained.  Will it be OK by Saturday night?

Our two-hour session comes to an end, the next student arrives, and there are still two songs we haven't played.

After the lesson, we go to the Central Market and have a coffee.

We hunt for our posters and spot a few of them in the Market precinct.

My voice is really trashed.  My teacher has counseled me to put my head over a bowl of bowling water and breathe in the steam for a while.  I try this at home.  Does she realise how limp this makes my hair look?  I spray rub dry shampoo into it to give it some volume.

In the afternoon we hang out at home, just chatting, eating and relaxing.

We play gently through the remaining two songs.

In the evening we try to visit the Festival's Garden of Unearthly Delights, but it's not open to the public just yet.

Eneias videos several buskers, and I follow behind, dispensing money to them.

We eat at a nearby restaurant, and we toss around some exciting ideas for the future.

Eneias is very tired.  He is adjusting to the 11-hour time difference, but the travel is catching up with him.

I drop him at the hotel and go home to steam my vocal folds again.

Now I am quite worried.  Terrified, actually.  The first show is in just a couple of days.  People have bought tickets and will expect a good performance.

Will I have any voice at all?

Wednesday - Crunch time

We are half-way through the week.  We need to consolidate our repertoire.  The time is passing quickly.  It's important that we "crunch" the work today.

We rehearse for a total of five hours.  In the morning, we work through the whole program once, referring back to the recorded sessions of the past few days.  We incorporate some of the ideas and adapt others, until we feel comfortable with the arrangements.

I'm getting used to working with him - I can see on his face when he's ready to bring the song to an end.  He says that in Brazil they don't do complex jazz arrangements - simple is better.  "You should play relaxed" he says.  Certainly, I don't want to feel uptight when I get on stage.  I want to know what we are doing.

In the afternoon we play right through the set again.   By the end of it my voice is feeling quite tired.

He has brought me a gift from Brazil - a brand new DVD by Gilberto Gil, that has just been released.  We flop down on the couch and watch the movie from beginning to end.  The music is relaxing and it's wonderful to witness the rhythm and rapport between the musicians.

While I get ready for the evening, I put on my DVD of Diana Krall in Rio for him to watch.  He spots a friend of his in the orchestra.

That night we go to La Boheme's jazz night.  It's well-attended, and the music is great.

While we're there, I organise with the barman to have five extra places reserved on Saturday night for friends who want to bring extra friends.  I've also arranged a complimentary ticket for my teacher for the Sunday night.  These arrangements are quite complicated - there are tickets to be bought online, then there are "comps" to be reserved and collected, "holds" at the door arranged through the Fringe, and unofficial holds arranged through the venue.  As usual, the artist (that's me) arranges everything.

But I'm so happy with the way this week is progressing.  In the throes of feeling grateful for life, I took a risk.  It could have been a disaster for both of us, but it's been wonderful so far.

Tuesday - a green frog cake

Eneias is missing his family.  Every night he talks with them on the Internet.  The 11-hour time difference means that midnight is a good time for them to connect.

His jet-lag is causing him to wake early in the morning.  How is he getting any sleep at all?

On Tuesday we go and visit Lizz, my travel agent who has helped us so much with all the travel arrangements, including last year's aborted attempt.

We go to the Balfours cafe and I buy him a green frog cake.  This is an iconic South Australian treat - very sweet, with cream inside.  You can buy them in supermarkets, but at this cafe they are nice and fresh every day.

Now it's time for our next rehearsal with my teacher.  We spend an intense two hours.

We go back to my place and practice a couple of the songs.  As we get stuck into the work, the atmosphere between us starts to feel much more relaxed.

That night I take him to my Toastmasters (public speaking club) meeting.  I explain that he will have a chance to say something to the group in English.  This will give him some practice, in case he wants to speak to the audience during our performances.

Beforehand, with my help, he has practised saying two sentences to introduce himself.

During the meeting, we perform a couple of songs together.  Then, at the end of the meeting, when it is finally his turn to speak, he stands up, but the words elude him.  I know this feeling very well.  Public speaking is always harder than you expect, especially in another language.  But after the meeting, I find him chatting to some members from Spanish-speaking countries, and they are able to understand each other.

I will not put any pressure on him to speak during the show.

Monday - Talk to the animals

Our show was all organised for April last year.  We had to cancel it because of problems in getting a visa for Eneias.  Although it was devastating to defer the show, it's actually better to have waited a bit longer, because now I can speak and understand more Portuguese.  I'm starting to hear his voice in my head, improving my pronunciation and more often finding the vocabulary I need.

On Monday morning, we go to Cleland Wildlife Park.  Eneias loves it - sees a kangaroo and off he goes, feeding it by hand, filming it with his phone.  Then we find the koalas, and line up for a chance to get see one close up and pat it.  He also really likes the dingoes.  "They are beautiful", he says, hanging over the fence of the enclosure.  "But it wouldn't be good to fall in here, would it?"

We walk all around the park, looking at everything and then have lunch in the cafe.  While I order lunch, I send him outside, where a guide is showing the visitors a kookaburra.

That afternoon we rehearse separately.  He wants to spend several hours in his hotel room, practising the arrangements that my teacher gave us yesterday.  I want to listen to the recordings and get them into my head.

Later he comes to my house for dinner.

I have a long list of possible activities, and we have already ticked off quite a few of them.  One of them was to do a radio interview together.  And I keep thinking about how else I can promote the show.

I decide not to pursue any more radio interviews.  We need to rehearse for our show.   I need to get into the "zone", not run around the city trying to do promotion.  I need to memorise my lyrics.  I need to know the arrangements very well.  I must plan my patter.  There is a lot to do.

I've done plenty of promotion during the past few weeks - I'm just going to let that work.

Then, someone posts on Facebook that Saturday's show is already sold out.

I feel vindicated in my decision.

It's Valentine's Day on Saturday, and I must focus on giving the audience a lovely experience.

Sunday - Catch the rhythm

On Sunday, we have our first rehearsal with my teacher, who has offered to coach us in the week leading up to the show.

I collect Eneias, and we drive to her home.

I introduce the two of them, and we settle down in her studio.  She gives me a vocal warm-up while he sets up his equipment.

Eneias begins to play and sing "Aquarela do Brasil" - Watercolour of Brazil.  My teacher joins in and improvises dreamily.  The two of them sound very good together.

He says it's a warm-up song.  She says it's a getting-to-know-you song.

Eneias observes that they both have dark skin.  "We have rhythm", he says.

In a ridiculous moment of reversal, I feel excluded.  Why didn't I get dark skin?  Why didn't I get rhythm?

Then I realize it's just his way of creating rapport.

We work for two hours, going through the first half of our program.  I record the lesson, so that I will be able to refer to it and recall the arrangements that she has created for us.

She tells me to watch his fingers and hands - we need to work closely together.  By watching what he is doing on the guitar, I can tune in to his rhythm.

Then she notices he is  tapping the rhythm with his foot.  She commands me to place my foot on his, while he continues to play.  This is a new experience.  I am absorbing his rhythm through my body.  It is like feeling his heartbeat.  Through this unlikely channel, I feel a connection to him and his heritage, the history of the music.

After the rehearsal, I take him to the Bakehouse cafe on Norwood Parade.  I buy him a meat pie with tomato sauce and make him eat it out of a paper bag.  He buys a Farmers Union Iced Coffee to take back to his hotel.

I then have an hour to buy food for a picnic, and my husband and I collect him and drive to Maslins Beach.

By the time we get there, it's quite windy.  Although the air is still warm, the temperature is dropping.  We decide to go straight into the water.  I run into the sea and plunge straight in.  Eneias is shocked by the cold water.  Water in Brazil is warm.  He laughs and protests - how could we possibly swim in such cold water?  Eventually he surrenders to it.  When I take pity on him and inquire "Bastante?"  (Enough?)  he quickly agrees, and heads back to the beach.

We take our picnic up to the lawned area above the beach.  It's still windy there but better without the sand blowing around.

It's so windy, there is no point opening the bag of lettuce leaves; they would just blow away.  We have a baguette and slices of smoked salmon.  The plastic plates blow around.  We have a  bottle of French champagne and it's hard to stop the plastic glasses from blowing over and spilling the bubbly.  We've forgotten to bring a knife for the salmon, so we have to rip it with our fingers.  It is all quite inelegant.

I remark to Eneias that our meal is "primitivo".  He bursts out laughing and the three of us share the joke.

We then drive to a cafe at Aldinga beach.  I notice he's standing on the road, and pull him back onto the footpath.  "I need you", I say.  Nine months to get a visa, then he gets knocked over?  Please, no.

Not getting any service at that cafe, we then go to Brighton jetty cafe, where the coffee is good and the view even better.

Saturday - Gelato by the sea

On Saturday morning I collect Eneias from his hotel at 9 am.   He is still suffering from jet-lag, and has been awake since 5.30 am.  He smiles, and says he got up and played his guitar.

He has been walking around the city and has already checked out the music shops.  He is thinking about buying a guitar here - surprisingly, they are cheaper here than in Brazil.

We drive to the school where my Portuguese lessons are held.  This is the first class after the summer holiday break.  I settle down with my fellow students on the little primary school chairs.  He sets up his equipment, and together we perform three songs.  The teacher then leads a discussion about the music and we examine and translate the lyrics.

I'm happy for him, that this morning he has a few Brazilian people to talk to.  This must surely make him feel more at home.  My Portuguese conversation (such as it is) is very slow and halting.

As the class draws to a close, a whole lot of people arrive.  They are new students, adults and children, arriving for the start of the new term.  There is now quite a crowd in the room.  We perform one more song and hand out flyers for our show.

We go back to my house and rehearse for a while.   Then I take him to the Festival Centre cafe, on the riverbank, for a sandwich lunch.

He keeps on trying to get into the driver's seat of my car.  This tells me I need to watch his road safety - he is not used to traffic coming from the "wrong" direction.

I drop him back at the hotel for a siesta, before we go out for an evening meal.

We take him to the beachside suburb of Glenelg.  We go for a walk along the beach, then head back the other way towards the marina.  Eventually we find a table overlooking the sea and have some bruschetta and a couple of seafood platters.  We watch the spectacular sunset and try to capture it on camera.

Then we get some gelato from a nearby shop.

Tomorrow, our rehearsals will commence in earnest.

Friday - Fry my brain

As agreed, I arrive at the hotel at noon.  Eneias is in the lobby playing his guitar.  He says he's been up since six, and has already been for a walk through the city.

We walk through the town and arrive at my office.  I introduce him to my colleagues.  Then he and I have lunch at a nearby restaurant, where our poster is displayed, and therefore the staff know who he is.  

Then we drive back to the hotel where he collects his "equipamento".  In addition to his guitar he has brought an amplifier, mixing desk and microphone.  

We arrive at my house and he sets up.  We have a bit of a jam, going through some of the chords, checking the keys and tempos, trying out different introductions and endings.

He gives me some percussion instruments.  An egg to shake and a little hand drum.  He demonstrates these, and the rhythm is powerful.  But mine is feeble.  When I wield these items I feel puny and incompetent.  He says he will help me.

Most of our conversation is in Portuguese - a big effort for me, as I have only been learning for a year.  I know my accent is terrible and that I am making a lot of mistakes. But this is part of the deal when you learn a new language.  I promise myself plenty of forgiveness.

He has the nicest fingernails I have ever seen on anybody, male or female.  He files them frequently with very fine emery paper.

There is good chemistry between us.  The sound is good, and it's a great first rehearsal.

After all the trouble I experienced in putting this project together, I've hit the jackpot.  He's a delightful person, intelligent, educated, friendly and patient, not to mention a great musician.

That night, we take him with us to a dinner for my husband's work, at a very good local restaurant.  Despite his limited English, he interacts confidently with the doctors and their partners.  He conducts himself with equanimity and good humour, showing us how a box of matches can become a percussion instrument.

The i-pad proves itself to be a useful tool for communication.  In addition to the translation site, our conversations can be illustrated with photos and videos - "Here is the video clip of a song he wrote"; "Recife looks a bit like the Gold Coast - here are some photos".

We pass around flyers for our show.

My brain is fried.  It badly needs a rest, but I reckon I'm going to learn a lot of Portuguese this week.

We have lift-off

In the days before his trip to Australia, I send some final messages to Eneias via Facebook.  I tell him about the interviews that I am doing to promote the show.  I tell him that we have been invited to perform in the Mall on the opening day of the festival.

I want to assure him that this visit is real, that it's not some hoax.

I want to make sure he gets on the plane.

I tell him that he will be tired when he arrives, and that on the first day he can relax.  He replies that he will arrive fresh and alert and ready to rehearse.

Somehow, I don't think so.

We exchange mobile phone numbers and I try to send him a message.  It doesn't reach him.  I phone Telstra to find out the correct configuration of numbers, and try again.  Still he doesn't receive it.

How will we establish mobile contact?  What if he runs into trouble during the flight?

I suggest he install Skype on his mobile, and I do the same.  We message each other - hooray!

I wish him bon voyage, and that's it for the next couple of days.

I keep checking my phone - Messages, Facebook and Skype, in case there is a message from him.  But there is nothing.

The night before he is due to arrive, I go to La Boheme's jazz night.  I drink two glasses of wine and let the music pulsate through me, in order to avoid catastrophizing.

I post on Facebook that I am trying to stay calm.  Several people respond, including one of Eneias' friends in Brazil.  He is concerned for me.  He advises me to chant, and sends me a link to some information about how to do it.

I go home and take a sleeping pill.

Next day, I finish my work at the office, then visit the hotel, to see where I will park the car and where the bar/restaurant is.

I make a big sign with his name on it so I can hold it up at the airport.

In the remaining couple of hours, I go to a class at the gym.  The exercise feels wonderful, but when it comes time for the relaxation segment I pack up my mat and leave.  I don't want to be late to the airport, and there is no point trying to meditate.

I get the the airport at 8.30 pm.  The flight is due at 8.50.  The Arrivals board says it's running 15 minutes late.

I sit down and look around me.  There is a Hudson's coffee shop.  I don't think they offer gin and tonic.

After 45 minutes, the first people start to emerge through the sliding door in the International Arrivals area.  Business class passengers, flight crew, sporadic arrivals.  I am not expecting him to be amongst the first.  Brazilian passports are not of the type to get priority.

And he has to go through Immigration.

Immigration.  He will show his visa.  Will it work?  You cannot get into Australia without the correct papers.  Will he be detained and deported?

I stand there holding up my sign, listening for a phone message.

I am half-expecting a diplomatic incident to occur.

Larger groups start to arrive, and there are whoops of joy as the welcomers are reunited with their family and friends.

Finally, just after 10 pm, he emerges with his luggage.  I recognise him straight away.  I am overcome with emotion.  I shake his hand and say in Portuguese "Welcome to Australia".  He gives me a big smile and says in English "Thank you for the invitation."

In that moment I know that everything is going to be all right.

We make our way to the car park.  He tries to get into the driver's seat and we laugh about his mistake.

As I drive towards the city, there is a big goonish grin on my face.  I can hardly believe that this plan has succeeded.  The novelty of something going right for a change feels very overwhelming.

Along the way, I point out The Promethean theatre where we will be performing.  Then we reach La Boheme.  The place is open, there is a band playing, and there is a carpark right outside.  I know that I should take him straight to the hotel, but I just can't resist stopping and taking him inside.  There are some regulars there and I introduce him to them.  I observe the charming way he engages with these people.

We are going to have a great week and it will be a good show.

We go to the hotel.

I help him to check in, and tell him to sleep for twelve hours.

Magic moments

Bossa Nova songs are often quite brief.  You sing the clever melody over some nice chords, and repeat as required.  You can add an instrumental solo in the middle if you like.

The songs invite some interpretation and variation.  It is up to the artist to arrange the song in their own unique way.

I've started learning how to improvise.  Over the years I've listened to a lot of jazz music, but until now I've never analysed what they are really doing.

Now I am learning some improvisation techniques.  You can vary the tune, vary the rhythm or replace the words with sounds.   I've never been a great fan of scatting -"Doo bee doo whah, bink ee skiddeleedoo" - what is all that for?  But my teacher suggests some other sounds that would be more suitable.

I begin quite timidly, first adding a grace note here and there, then inverting the melody by going up where I would normally go down, and vice versa.  Sometimes I toss in a phrase I've heard in a recording.  But generally I play it pretty safe.

My teacher urges me to be brave and take some risks.  I've already figured out that it's all scales - find the scale and pick out notes from it.  I begin to venture further away from the melody, both up and down.

She assures me that I choose good notes, but I should do it with more conviction.  So instead of individual notes, I try to form a phrase.

But I'm still inventing for the sake of invention.  I feel that my efforts are not adding up to much.

Then two things happen.

First, I attend a Flamenco dance show.  It's fiery, dramatic and emotional.  I once read that the dancers improvise their solos, and it is believed that in certain moments they are inspired and driven by a spirit within.  Perhaps that's why the musicians shout their approval, urging the dancer on.

My teacher says I sometimes produce good "moments", and I should aim to create more of them.

Watching the flamenco dancers, I suddenly get it - they produce some very exciting "moments".  I should improvise in a similar spirit.

Secondly, I acquire a Jamie Cullum CD from a friend who is moving away.  Cullum is a young British jazz singer and pianist; he is wonderfully creative.  Listening to this CD, there are lots of great "moments".  He really "feels" the music and the lyrics.  I should be doing that too.

I suppose you have to learn the techniques before you can use them artistically.

Now it's time to use those techniques, to create some "magic moments".

Lingo Lego

I've made good progress during the year I've been studying Portuguese.

And when classes ended last year, I resolved to keep studying every single day during the break.

I've been doing this through DuoLingo, a phone app that provides daily lessons.  A "coach" messages you each day to remind you to stay on track.

I enjoy this so much I could do it for hours, all day, to the exclusion of everything else.  It is quite addictive.

As of today, I've done 80 consecutive days.

It is endlessly fascinating.  I love playing with the building blocks; the movable parts that constitute a language.  These pieces empower you to say anything you like.  It's fun to figure out how they fit together.  I try to internalize the sounds and the conjugations so I can begin to recognise what looks and sounds right.  I memorize formulae, patterns, vocabulary, connector words.

Gradually I gain a sense of what works and what doesn't, the way that I imagine an architect develops an instinct for proportion and aesthetic.

It's like Lego for communication.

But although I'm getting better at reading, listening and writing, I'm still not very confident in speaking.

And so I go to meet Patricia.  My brother in law has set us up.  Patricia is a Brazilian who is about to marry an Australian man, a friend of Peter and his wife.

Peter has told her to expect a call from me.  He says she's happy to meet me for a chat.  I feel a bit reticent to call, but it would seem ungrateful not to accept the offer.

When I phone her, she speaks perfect English.  Immediately, I feel relieved.

Her husband-to-be is an executive at a school.  They live at the College, about an hour's drive from where I live.  I arrange to meet her there, as she has not yet obtained her driver's licence.

I collect her and we drive to an area where we can find a cafe.  Finally we settle down at a table and start to converse.

It is difficult at first.  I have trouble catching the start of her sentences.  Gradually my ears begin to tune in.  She is getting married on the weekend of our show.  I begin to ask her questions about her wedding.  I draw on some of the simple formulae I have learned.  It's very helpful that she can flip between Portuguese and English to explain and translate.  I start to feel more confident in speaking.

It's my first real conversation with a Portuguese speaker.  It's very different from classes, where the teacher is in charge, there are other students to carry the load if you're feeling tired, and there is time to look things up in a dictionary.

I'm not very good yet, but at least I've broken the ice.