A concert in Jaragua

Sunday - the day of our show in the theatre known as GATS.

Eneias' girlfriend Marli cooks a delicious lunch for us.  Her home is large, airy and tastefully decorated.  Everything matches.  There is a large garden  and balconies all around, looking out upon the nearby hills and surrounding countryside.

Marli has two big dogs.  After a brief introduction, she announces that she will put them into their enclosure.  She calls to them - "Biscoito!" and they snap to attention, keen to get their biscuits.

We laugh that the dogs speak Portuguese.

For dessert, Marli has prepared a caju mousse.  Caju is a tropical fruit, which I first tasted in Olinda a couple of weeks earlier.  The mousse is creamy, tangy and sweet.  Normally I try not to eat a lot of sweets, but I cannot resist a second helping of this delicious mousse.

We head back to the hotel and I get dressed for the show.

I leave my husband resting in the room.  Eneias collects me and we go to the theatre.

There's a back entrance leading to a long, thin dressing room.  I set up my steamer and put my makeup bag on the counter.

We meet Samuca, who is going to video the show for us.

The sound and lighting check takes a long time.  I sing too much, and worry about wearing out my voice.

The instructions on the packet of cold pills tell me to take one a day.  I've already taken two, but my nose is still running.  I decide to take the risk of a third pill - I can't be blowing my nose on stage.

Eneias gets dressed in his performance clothes and warms up with some quiet singing.

We are at the theatre for three hours before the doors open.  The long wait makes us both nervous.

Finally the lights go down and the show is announced.  We take our places on stage and we're on.

Eneias encourages me to speak to the audience in Portuguese.  It's a big mental effort, but I manage to produce a few sentences.

Thiago joins us on guitar for Viajei and then I leave the stage while they perform Eneias' composition Sou de Santa Catarina (I am from Santa Catarina).  In this song Thiago plays harmonica, then he and Eneias sing together.  The performance is quite moving - they are both proud of being from Santa Catarina.

Finally we reach the end of the show, and Rubens joins us on stage for Wave and The Girl From Ipanema.  He plays the shaker and imitates a trumpet sound.  He's so funny, he makes me laugh out loud.

Afterwards, everyone wants to be photographed with us.  We go to the shopping mall for supper, and quite a few audience members are there too.

This was the concert in Jaragua.

Our next goal is a concert in Rio.

Getting warmer

After our open-air performance on Saturday morning, I explore the market stalls around the square, and purchase some gifts and souvenirs.

We have a quick lunch with Enéias and his family.

Then we go on a tour to the top of the Boa Vista mountain.  Rone collects us from the hotel, and he and his friend Philippe take us in a four-wheel-drive.  It's a beautiful day for sightseeing.  Heading up the mountain, the road becomes a steep track, and some cars can't make it up the slope.  We see them stationed in odd places, just parked where they stopped, when they could go no further.  Ahead of us, a car is reversing alarmingly, vacillating in the middle of a three-point turn.  Halfway up, there's a little church; the Italian community raised funds to bring it in pieces from Italy and rebuild it here in the south of Brazil.  We stop and look inside the church, and admire the view of the town and the surrounding countryside.  Finally we reach the mountain top, where the view is spectacular.  There's a paragliding ramp where people are risking their lives, sitting on the edge of the hillside, and even dancing joyfully on the precarious slope.

Rone's English is returning rapidly.  He is speaking very well.  He and my husband are now conversing easily.  But for me, this is a trap.  I need to practise my Portuguese, but Rone's fluency in English begins to make me lazy.  To counteract this, I ask him to tell me the names of things in Portuguese; try to make our conversation bilingual.  I also attempt some of the more complex grammatical constructions, e.g. "Without you, we would not have seen this".  Because of Rone's facility with English, I can explain to him what I want to say, and he can tell me whether I'm right or not.  This helps build my confidence to use such phrases with others.

On the way back from the mountain, we drive through a large park.  It has a lake with an island, where capybaras are resting in the sunshine.  We stop to admire a long wall of mosaics created by Rone for a local company, to mark its centenary.

That night, Enéias is performing in a restaurant called Xis-Cao.  We all go there for supper.  As we take our seats, the proprietor, Pinho, brings us caiparinha cocktails.  I take a large gulp.  It's very strong; tastes very good.

Enéias is already playing when we arrive.  Before long, he beckons me to come up and sing with him.   I take my place on the small stage and ask him which song he'd like to play.  He says "All of them".  He wants to run through our whole program; this is going to be another "open rehearsal".  Pinho joins us for The Girl from Ipanema, playing the melody on his cornet.

No one is listening to the music.  Later, a video of the event will reveal a room of people at tables, intent on eating their meals and talking amongst themselves.  But this is a great opportunity for us to practise for tomorrow night's show.  It takes all the pressure away.  I take a lot of vocal risks, trying out high notes that I would never normally attempt during performance.

Tomorrow night, we're on.

Warming up

After a few days of rehearsal, our first performance is in the food court of a shopping mall. Enéias describes this as an "open rehearsal".

He says that if I need to stop and start again, it's OK - it's a rehearsal in public.  But that doesn't really feel right to me, and I resolve to treat it as a performance.

Before the show we meet the Centre Manager, and from our conversation it seems that she's expecting a performance.

We set ourselves up on the large stage.  There are a few people seated at tables in the large open space.  No one has cone to listen to the music. It's lunch time, and they are here to eat.

But this is a great opportunity for us to warm up and get used to working together again.

I have been struggling with a cold and a chesty cough, and I do my best to stay in control and not collapse in spasms of coughing.  I've been using everything at my disposal - cold pills, nose drops and a nasal spray. But my airway is gurgling and I've been coughing harshly, which is not good for the voice.

Enéias introduces the show, and I try to relax and just let it happen. My voice comes out surprisingly well. I've been taught how to take quiet breaths, down low,  instead of shallow chest breathing that can irritate the airways. I manage to hold it together for the duration of the performance.

Family and friends arrive to support us.  Some of the diners also applaud, which is an unexpected bonus.

In the afternoon we do some impromptu performances, at the GATS theatre and at the advertising agency run by Enéias' brother.  By the end of the afternoon I'm feeling tired fand sounding hoarse. My husband urges me to rest my voice and insists that we go back to the hotel.

Our next performance is on the following morning.  When I awake, I'm relieved to find that my voice is no worse than yesterday. It seems to have recovered reasonably well during the hours of sleep.

It's an open-air performance, in a large square outside the museum. Market stalls are being set up.  For this show, we are joined by a young percussionist, Jean.  We draw a good crowd - forty or fifty people stand around to listen.  I recognize some of the faces. The audience is attentive and applauds enthusiastically.

I recall what the journalist said about Bossa not being relevant these days.  So I decide to sing out and be animated, like an outdoor rock concert. It has to be lively and I think we hit the mark. Eneias tells the audience that I used to sing rock 'n' roll (which he pronounces "hoknholl").

During this performance I feel very relaxed.  I feel "in" the songs. The singing seems easy, and even though I'm sick, I have plenty of breath control.  I've discovered the secret of life.

At the end of the show Eneias brings his friend Rubens onto the stage to join us for an improvised rendition of "The Girl from Ipanema".  We have not rehearsed this, and it's a bit of a mess, but never mind.

I am invited to sign the Civic visitor book.  Lots of people want to meet me and my husband, including Carol, a funkily dressed young English teacher.  She wonders if we could attend an English language meeting at the end of next week. Unfortunately we will be gone by then.

In the afternoon I duck into the pharmacy and inquire if they have a steamer.  Steam is meant to be the best thing for the voice.  I can't make any steam in the hotel because I don't have a kettle.  The shower is good, but I can't stay there all day.  Yes, they do have a steamer.  I carry the big box back to the hotel and set up the machine.  When I plug it in, steam immediately appears - it's a cool-steam vaporizer, but I guess it's better than nothing.

This is good progress.  I can use this machine several times a day, and even take it to the theatre to use before I go on stage.

No responsibility; no control.

Now that I am in Jaraguá do Sul, I have to "go with the flow".  Enéias has made all the arrangements. I follow him around to wherever he needs to go, and meet all the people who want to meet me.

It's like our week in Adelaide, but the situation is reversed.  There, I took Enéias around with me wherever I went.   Preparing for the show in my home town, I was responsible for everything.  I had to maintain total control.  There was so much going on that my brain nearly burst.  The singing was just one of many things that needed to my attention.

Now, Enéias is in charge.  He dictates where and when we will perform.  He directs the style of music.  I happily surrender to it.  All I have to do is sing and be nice to people.  I can do that.  Is this what it's like when you have a manager to look after your business affairs?

He has arranged for a journalist to come to the hotel to interview us.  It's not clear when this will occur.  The day before our first performance, while we are having lunch, he takes a phone call.  The interview will be in an hour's time.  We go back to the hotel.  I change my clothes, and start thinking about what I might say about the show.

The journalist, Heloíse, arrives.  The three of us sit on a couch in the hotel lobby.  The interview is entirely in Portuguese.  To commence, I manage to construct a couple of simple sentences with diplomatic intent: "I am very happy to be here"; "Jaraguá is a lovely city".

Enéias does most of the talking, but I have to follow the conversation in case they suddenly ask me what I think.  And Heloíse has questions for me.  "What is the connection between the two of you?"  "How long have you been singing?"  "What attracted you to Brazilian music?"  She comments that Bossa Nova is no longer a popular style of music in Brazil.  Young people prefer to listen to "rap" music.  Bossa has an elite image; it's the sort of music that you would have to pay a lot of money to hear in a theatre.  Enéias says we are going to make it relevant by performing in the open air, in a free show for the public.

The interview goes for half an hour.  I have to concentrate intensely.  We talk about Enéias' visit to Australia in February, and that this is my first visit to Brazil.

Heloíse asks me what I have most enjoyed about Jaragua.   I think for a moment.  I've been here for one day and haven't seen all that much yet.  I tell her that we have a beautiful view from our hotel room window.  I say that there is a "boa vista" outside our hotel window.  The room looks out onto a mountain and a river bounded by trees.

It turns out I'm absolutely right.  The mountain outside our room is called Boa Vista.

A photographer arrives, and asks us to sing something, while he takes some pictures.  Then we go outside and have more photos taken in the hotel garden.

Next day we are featured in two local newspapers.  One article is titled "Intercambio Musical" (musical exchange") and the other proclaims "Bossa nova com sotaque australiano" (Bossa nova with an Australian accent").

Both headlines are perfect.

Facebook friends spring to life

Most of our rehearsals take place at Eneias' apartment, which is upstairs in the main shopping street.

The centrepiece of his home is the music studio - light-filled, spacious and well-equipped.  It's a lovely environment in which to rehearse.

Then, for a change of scenery, we decamp to a music shop across the road, where we play for the staff and customers.  I note the wide selections of pandeiros and other percussion instruments, and start to plan what I might buy.

During our first couple of days in Jaraguá we are introduced to some more of Enéias' friends.

I've encountered these people on Facebook, and some have already "friended" me.

It feels strange meeting people in person, when until now they have only been Facebook friends.  It's like meeting a the cast of a TV show.

Thiago swings into the apartment with his guitar.  He and Enéias weave a spell with a wonderfully creative version of Vitor Ramil's song Viajei.  As I sing, I feel as if I'm floating.

We visit the theatre where we are perform, and there we meet Rubens, actor and clown.  He teaches us how to play the shaker and also the "cuica" (the instrument with the funny "whoop-whoop" sound often heard in Brazilian music).

At an advertising agency we meet Márcio, who had helped to calm my anxiety in February, while I was waiting for Enéias to arrive in Adelaide.

And at our first performance, at a shopping centre, there is Bogdan, my very first Brazilian Facebook friend.  It was Bogdan who introduced me to Enéias.  I can scarcely believe I'm meeting Bogdan - it feels surreal.  He proves to be a delightful guy, and he also attends our theatre performance with his daughter.

Enéias' friends all seem to be musicians, writers, actors and artists.  I find myself welcomed into a creative community.

Our new friend Rone shows us his impressive mosaic creations, including a wall of large panels along a street, commissioned by a local company for its 100-year anniversary.

Enéias has a kitchen that only makes coffee.  He never cooks; always goes out for lunch.  His regular place is Bela Catarina, and he takes us there each day for the lunch buffet.

Musically, Enéias and I easily pick up where we left off six months ago.  It's much easier now we know each other.

I start to settle into the rhythm of life in Jaraguá.