Our show on Friday night is in the nearby town of Itajaí.
In the morning, Enéias and I rehearse in his apartment. Not too much, as I need to save my voice for tonight.
Mara drives us to Itajaí, a journey of about an hour and a half. I let her and Enéias chat in the front, while I take in the vistas of lush green rice fields and banana plantations. The landscape is dotted with charming little churches.
After a bit of searching, by car and on foot, we find the concert venue. It's at an Arts Academy, in a beautiful, historic building near the harbour. The organisers welcome us, and then they show us around the performance space.
We will be performing tonight with a guest guitarist from this town. Josias arrives and we rehearse a little with him. He is an amiable young man and his guitar has a different sound to Enéias', so they complement each other very well.
This is our last formal performance, and I resolve to give it everything I've got.
The place has the feel of a large lounge room. So I pretend I'm in my lounge room - the "sing as if no one is listening" principle. It's a bit difficult as the audience is in full view, but I try not to let that put me off.
When we come to our final song, "The Girl From Ipanema", the audience joins in and sings along. Which is good, because I haven't got very much voice left.
Afterwards, some of the audience members stay and chat, and a group of them invites us to join them for a late dinner at a a popular place which used to be an old market.
We set off in separate cars. I go with Mara and her husband Leone. We drive around looking for a park - it's obviously a popular spot on this Friday night. Eventually we arrive at the historic market. The place is packed, and it's noisy. There is not a spare table to be seen. It's picturesque, and I'm sure it would be fun if you were eating and drinking there, but to us, looking in, it looks like bedlam. The others are nowhere to be found.
Eventually we drive off and find a row of waterside restaurants. We sit down and order meals. Mara and I share a caipirinha cocktail. I take a sip - it's delicious but very strong. I cast around for things to talk about, but I'm really, really tired. I wish I could make better conversation, but I'm wilting, fast.
On the journey back to Jaraguá, Mara and Leone share the driving while I sleep in the back seat.
The deadly caipirinha has finished me off.
In the morning, Enéias and I rehearse in his apartment. Not too much, as I need to save my voice for tonight.
Mara drives us to Itajaí, a journey of about an hour and a half. I let her and Enéias chat in the front, while I take in the vistas of lush green rice fields and banana plantations. The landscape is dotted with charming little churches.
After a bit of searching, by car and on foot, we find the concert venue. It's at an Arts Academy, in a beautiful, historic building near the harbour. The organisers welcome us, and then they show us around the performance space.
We will be performing tonight with a guest guitarist from this town. Josias arrives and we rehearse a little with him. He is an amiable young man and his guitar has a different sound to Enéias', so they complement each other very well.
This is our last formal performance, and I resolve to give it everything I've got.
The place has the feel of a large lounge room. So I pretend I'm in my lounge room - the "sing as if no one is listening" principle. It's a bit difficult as the audience is in full view, but I try not to let that put me off.
When we come to our final song, "The Girl From Ipanema", the audience joins in and sings along. Which is good, because I haven't got very much voice left.
Afterwards, some of the audience members stay and chat, and a group of them invites us to join them for a late dinner at a a popular place which used to be an old market.
We set off in separate cars. I go with Mara and her husband Leone. We drive around looking for a park - it's obviously a popular spot on this Friday night. Eventually we arrive at the historic market. The place is packed, and it's noisy. There is not a spare table to be seen. It's picturesque, and I'm sure it would be fun if you were eating and drinking there, but to us, looking in, it looks like bedlam. The others are nowhere to be found.
Eventually we drive off and find a row of waterside restaurants. We sit down and order meals. Mara and I share a caipirinha cocktail. I take a sip - it's delicious but very strong. I cast around for things to talk about, but I'm really, really tired. I wish I could make better conversation, but I'm wilting, fast.
On the journey back to Jaraguá, Mara and Leone share the driving while I sleep in the back seat.
The deadly caipirinha has finished me off.
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