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.
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.
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