Now I'm in Jaraguá, I'm happy to take things at a slower pace. I am really tired after our show in Rio.
There's a break of a few days before our first performance here on Thursday night.
On Monday, I don't do any singing. It's a "take it easy" day. Enéias warns me that we will have lots of work to do during the week.
While I'm at his apartment, a student arrives for a guitar lesson. Enéias suggests I lie down on the couch while he teaches. The couch is very comfortable and I drift off to sleep. When he wakes me, I startle, and he laughs.
I visit a pharmacy to get some medication for my cough. I'm resigned to the idea that it will take a while to get better. But I'm concerned about the risk of coughing on stage. So I tell the pharmacist what the problem is, and explain that I would like a cough suppressant to take on the day of the show. I know it's not good to take cough suppressants regularly, but seriously, I need something to help me. She asks me how many days until the show. I tell her four. She produces something that she says will be better for me. Tablets - two a day. The packet tells me nothing, so back at the hotel I open it up and read the instructions. It is some sort of anti-inflammatory steroid. That sounds like the sort of thing that will help, so I start taking them. Gradually the urge to cough calms down, so that's a relief.
On Tuesday we start getting back into the music. While Enéias plays a new song that he's learning, I sprawl in his armchair. A fresh breeze flows in through the window.
Junior arrives, and we all set off on foot to a radio station, where we are going to be interviewed about our show. The three of us settle down in the studio, and before starting the recording, the interviewer engages us in some general discussion. I can't understand his accent, and respond to every question with a blank stare. Recording commences, I concentrate furiously, and manage to pump out a few desperate sentences. Then we perform a song for about forty seconds, then he stops recording. I would have liked to have sung a bit better, but we are not invited to re-record the song. The interviewer hasn't spoken to or mentioned Junior at all, and he has called Enéias by his brother's name, in a way which would be impossible to edit. But still, it's his interview, and the guy seems happy with it.
Then, ironically, we have a ten-minute conversation with the interviewer, most of which I understand and can contribute to.
Back at the apartment, we do some more rehearsal. How I love singing these songs, with these musicians! What a pity Brazil is so far away!
There's a break of a few days before our first performance here on Thursday night.
On Monday, I don't do any singing. It's a "take it easy" day. Enéias warns me that we will have lots of work to do during the week.
While I'm at his apartment, a student arrives for a guitar lesson. Enéias suggests I lie down on the couch while he teaches. The couch is very comfortable and I drift off to sleep. When he wakes me, I startle, and he laughs.
I visit a pharmacy to get some medication for my cough. I'm resigned to the idea that it will take a while to get better. But I'm concerned about the risk of coughing on stage. So I tell the pharmacist what the problem is, and explain that I would like a cough suppressant to take on the day of the show. I know it's not good to take cough suppressants regularly, but seriously, I need something to help me. She asks me how many days until the show. I tell her four. She produces something that she says will be better for me. Tablets - two a day. The packet tells me nothing, so back at the hotel I open it up and read the instructions. It is some sort of anti-inflammatory steroid. That sounds like the sort of thing that will help, so I start taking them. Gradually the urge to cough calms down, so that's a relief.
On Tuesday we start getting back into the music. While Enéias plays a new song that he's learning, I sprawl in his armchair. A fresh breeze flows in through the window.
Junior arrives, and we all set off on foot to a radio station, where we are going to be interviewed about our show. The three of us settle down in the studio, and before starting the recording, the interviewer engages us in some general discussion. I can't understand his accent, and respond to every question with a blank stare. Recording commences, I concentrate furiously, and manage to pump out a few desperate sentences. Then we perform a song for about forty seconds, then he stops recording. I would have liked to have sung a bit better, but we are not invited to re-record the song. The interviewer hasn't spoken to or mentioned Junior at all, and he has called Enéias by his brother's name, in a way which would be impossible to edit. But still, it's his interview, and the guy seems happy with it.
Then, ironically, we have a ten-minute conversation with the interviewer, most of which I understand and can contribute to.
Back at the apartment, we do some more rehearsal. How I love singing these songs, with these musicians! What a pity Brazil is so far away!
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