On Wednesday after breakfast, it's time to start our rehearsal for the show.
The hotel allows us to rehearse on the rooftop.
I'm very glad we are allowed to use this excellent facility - it's so much better than squeezing into a hotel room. There's an open-air swimming pool and deck with a wonderful view of the beach, a bar, and an under-cover function room in case it's too windy or sunny outside. They turn off the recorded music while we are there.
Mara and Marlí swim and sunbathe while we rehearse.
I should not have expected this final part of our journey to be easy.
Because it's hard, very hard.
I'm tired and jet lagged. The show is tomorrow night, so we only have a day and a half to prepare. We need to run through all the songs today. I have a bad cold and I'm coughing, though I'm trying not to make an issue of it. I need to preserve my voice for tomorrow night, so I can only sing quietly today.
Plus, I need to bond with our new percussionist. Junior seems like a nice young man but I'm having a lot of trouble understanding his accent. And perhaps he doesn't think much of my rhythmic ability, because he doesn't like the way I sing One Note Samba. He says I'm attacking the phrases too aggressively, "in an American way". It should have a "dance" quality, he says. At home, Junior plays in a samba group. He takes my hand and draws me to my feet, then makes me step, moving my weight from one foot to the other, feeling the rhythm. In my heart I know this will help, but it's a worry to think that on the day before the show I have got it so wrong.
We work through several more songs, and come to the Aeroplane Song - "Samba do Avaião", written by Tom Jobim as his plane came in to land in Rio:
How my heart is singing,
I see Rio de Janeiro
Suddenly there is a flood of tears. Because from where I'm sitting I can see Rio de Janeiro - a lot of it.
My longing, lonely days are ending,
Rio my love, there by the sea,
Rio my love, waiting for me.
My long wait is over. Finally we are all here in Rio and are about to do our show.
See the cable cars
that sway above the bay of Guanabara.
Tiny sailboats down below
Dance the samba as they go,
Shining Rio, there you lie,
City of sand and sea and sky,
Mountains of green rising so high
I'm crying while I sing, and the musicians play on.
Four minutes more,
We'll be there at the airport of Galeão,
Rio de Janeiro, Rio de Janeiro,
Rio de Janeiro, Rio de Janeiro.
Junior gives me a sympathetic look.
Statue of the saviour,
With open arms above the yellow seashore,
If I turn around I can see the statue of Christ the Redeemer, and I point to it.
Now I'm sobbing and laughing at the same time. The musicians play on.
Sugarloaf in majesty,
Rising from the silver sea
And to our left can be seen the Sugarloaf mountain.
Dark-eyed girls (boys) who smile at me
Yes, there is one.
City of love and mysteries,
Fasten seatbelts, no smoking please.
Now we're descending and everything's rushing,
And now the wheels
Touch the ground!
When the song ends, there is a moment of silence. Junior rubs my shoulder compassionately.
"Better to cry now than tomorrow night", I say.
By lunchtime we have rehearsed three-quarters of the songs.
That was a good morning's work.
The hotel allows us to rehearse on the rooftop.
I'm very glad we are allowed to use this excellent facility - it's so much better than squeezing into a hotel room. There's an open-air swimming pool and deck with a wonderful view of the beach, a bar, and an under-cover function room in case it's too windy or sunny outside. They turn off the recorded music while we are there.
Mara and Marlí swim and sunbathe while we rehearse.
I should not have expected this final part of our journey to be easy.
Because it's hard, very hard.
I'm tired and jet lagged. The show is tomorrow night, so we only have a day and a half to prepare. We need to run through all the songs today. I have a bad cold and I'm coughing, though I'm trying not to make an issue of it. I need to preserve my voice for tomorrow night, so I can only sing quietly today.
Plus, I need to bond with our new percussionist. Junior seems like a nice young man but I'm having a lot of trouble understanding his accent. And perhaps he doesn't think much of my rhythmic ability, because he doesn't like the way I sing One Note Samba. He says I'm attacking the phrases too aggressively, "in an American way". It should have a "dance" quality, he says. At home, Junior plays in a samba group. He takes my hand and draws me to my feet, then makes me step, moving my weight from one foot to the other, feeling the rhythm. In my heart I know this will help, but it's a worry to think that on the day before the show I have got it so wrong.
We work through several more songs, and come to the Aeroplane Song - "Samba do Avaião", written by Tom Jobim as his plane came in to land in Rio:
How my heart is singing,
I see Rio de Janeiro
Suddenly there is a flood of tears. Because from where I'm sitting I can see Rio de Janeiro - a lot of it.
My longing, lonely days are ending,
Rio my love, there by the sea,
Rio my love, waiting for me.
My long wait is over. Finally we are all here in Rio and are about to do our show.
See the cable cars
that sway above the bay of Guanabara.
Tiny sailboats down below
Dance the samba as they go,
Shining Rio, there you lie,
City of sand and sea and sky,
Mountains of green rising so high
I'm crying while I sing, and the musicians play on.
Four minutes more,
We'll be there at the airport of Galeão,
Rio de Janeiro, Rio de Janeiro,
Rio de Janeiro, Rio de Janeiro.
Junior gives me a sympathetic look.
Statue of the saviour,
With open arms above the yellow seashore,
If I turn around I can see the statue of Christ the Redeemer, and I point to it.
Now I'm sobbing and laughing at the same time. The musicians play on.
Sugarloaf in majesty,
Rising from the silver sea
And to our left can be seen the Sugarloaf mountain.
Dark-eyed girls (boys) who smile at me
Yes, there is one.
City of love and mysteries,
Fasten seatbelts, no smoking please.
Now we're descending and everything's rushing,
And now the wheels
Touch the ground!
When the song ends, there is a moment of silence. Junior rubs my shoulder compassionately.
"Better to cry now than tomorrow night", I say.
By lunchtime we have rehearsed three-quarters of the songs.
That was a good morning's work.
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