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.
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.
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