Band Camp in Paradise

After my two week stay in São Paulo I took a plane up to the other end of the country to state of Ceara. I spent almost two weeks in Fortaleza and Jericoacoara at the Choro Jazz Festival. The festival is a production of Capucho Produções and is partnered with California Brazil Camp which is how I knew about the festival. It was fun to see Capucho in charge and running this show instead of lurking around like he does at camp :) This time it was Dennis the Brazil Camp director who got to be the lurker. Just kidding! But seriously, I was so impressed with the whole operation. Three days in Fortaleza plus six days in Jericoacoara with workshops during the day and concerts at night, all with world class musicians. And all FREE thanks to government and corporate sponsorship. Fortaleza was a good chance to get in the swing of things and check out some of the workshops and concerts. But the real adventure started when four of us hopped in a hired pickup truck scheduled to drive us almost 200 miles to Jericoacoara. We stopped in Jicoca so the driver could let some air out of the tires. Then the last hour was a bumpy ride spent driving on sand, along the beach, past giant dunes, and into this beautiful beach town with sand instead of pavement.

The town has four main streets and a population of 3,000 (4,000 if you include tourists, and a lot more if you include the donkeys and cows everywhere that walked me to class). The sand was a challenge to walk on, but it was a constant reminder for me to slow down and stop rushing everywhere since I physically couldn't rush. Capucho had posted a class schedule online but with no locations at all. People kept asking each other where to go but nobody knew. Like so many things here that just seem to work themselves out, I figured the class locations would present themselves at the right time. And by word of mouth and a lot of directions given by local shop-owners, we all found our way. I spent a lot of time in inspiring workshops with Gabrielle Mirabasi, Teco Cardoso, Arismar do Espirito Santos, and Mauricio Carrilho. Then unexpectedly at the end of the week we were told we'd be performing on stage before the shows that night! Gabrielle Mirabassi and Alexandre Ribeiro flanked me on stage and there was such a great energy playing and dancing around all three of us together. What an honor.

Alexandre led a roda de choro every evening and a full on jam session every night late after the shows. I played in the rodas and made good use of the choros I've been memorizing. The jam was a bigger challenge for me - trying to navigate when to sit in, when to take a turn, when to call a tune, etc. Alexandre saw me at the bar and asked me why I wasn't playing more. When I started whining about how I didn't really know what to do, I didn't know that particular song they were playing, my dog ate my homework, etc etc, he literally pushed me into the circle and told me to play. I was glad for the kick in the butt and really appreciate his support and mentorship.

And then another chapter of my trip had passed and I hopped on another plane to another paradise. Not before a grueling ride back to Fortaleza. This time instead of the private truck I took a bus. That first trip back over the sand felt like the Indiana Jones ride at Disneyland, but in a seatbeltless rickety metal bus for an hour. This trip has been bumpy but this place teaches you to roll with the punches. I am constantly reminded of a quote from The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel which I watched on the plane. Judy Dench talks about adjusting to a new environment in India: "Initially you're overwhelmed. But gradually you realize it's like a wave. Resist, and you'll be knocked over. Dive into it, and you'll swim out the other side."

São Paulo

In the last twenty days in Brazil I've been in two different cities/climates/time zones, seen 15 performances, taken eight music workshops, sat in in three rodas, and received seven requests to be my boyfriend and/or husband. It’s been eventful to say the least. My Portuguese is rocking and that's really made a difference in my experience here. However, I have already said some pretty derogatory words for “gay” and “penis” to Halysson’s mom by mistake. What a difference a vowel makes! 

In two weeks I feel like I only scratched the surface of São Paulo, but what I did see I really liked. I didn't do much sightseeing but I got to know a few of the different neighborhoods when checking out different music every night. I saw Alexandre play choro a few times with great musicians like Roberta Valente. I danced to a fabulous forró band Bicho de Pé at Canto da Ema. They have a cool female lead vocalist who played some mad pandeiro too. Halysson's mom and I went a couple times to a neighborhood bar called Zé Carioca to see Halysson's friends' band Fino Trato. They were friendly guys and played a fun mix of pagode, MPB, baião, funk, etc and played some requests for me, the "Brazucamericana." I went with Adriana to Tom Jazz and Casa do Núcleo, a couple of artsy sit down venues that had some great music. I was struck by a composer/performer we saw named Caê Rolfsen. I'm not sure how to describe the mix of rhythms and styles, so I'm going to share one of his tunes below.

I went to a few rodas de choro in São Paulo as well. At one of them I went up to introduce myself and ask if I could come by again and sit it. Before I could get the full sentence out, I was scolded for not having my instrument on me! Good lesson. I went to another one with clarinetist Stanley Carvalho, this time with my instrument. I asked if I could sit in and they made some space for me. I still don't feel totally welcome in situations like that so I always try to be aware of any subtle cues from the group. I couldn't get a read on Stanley, but he kept having me call tunes and said I shouldn't be embarrassed to look at my charts for some of the songs. So I stayed, and I played with them until after 4am! I joined Stanley and some of the others the next day at their restaurant gig in Vila Madalena. He bought me a beer and had me play in his place when he took a break, so I figured I was doing okay.

A couple days later, Halysson's sister Thays and I got to see my friend Carla sing beautiful sambas at a venue called Lamparina. What an awesome space - it's a house converted into a restaurant/bar/cultural center. They invited me to sit in on a couple of choro tunes with the band. Good thing I had my instrument. 

And then my two week taste of São Paulo ended and I hopped on a plane to Fortaleza. I know I'm not finished with that city yet. Such a rich and diverse music scene which I found to be very accessible. It's a large and fast-paced city (largest one in South America!) with a lot of concrete. Still, it seems to have a very small and connected music world. I saw some musicians perform on one stage, then saw the same people at a party the next night, and then saw them play with different musicians the next. In addition, I had a couple of helpful lessons with Alexandre which helped me a lot and gave me a lot to chew on. I hope to continue working with him when I head back over there. As for now, it's time for the Choro Jazz Festival in Jericoacoara. Tchau!

Arrival in Brazil and Bunda Jeans

First day and already encountered samba in the street!

I made it. I had a great week of send-offs in San Diego, and a great week with my family to whom I owe much gratitude for the last minute shopping and packing help. We had a Thanksgiving dinner together since I won't be there, and when I went into the kitchen they were listening to Christmas music and wearing New Years hats. I miss those guys so much already. Then they put me on a plane and I was finally off. I already had to speak Portuguese with my seat neighbors which was a scary but exciting sign of what was next. I went to Rio by myself almost a year ago, but this time it's going to be to multiple cities over multiple months. Some of it is planned, some of it not, and either way I look forward to see what this adventure brings.



Halysson's mom picked me up at the airport with the same smile and laugh that he has. She's been a wonderful host and guide and we understand each other really well. I'm still feeling overwhelmed and disoriented and not myself, but already I've gotten to see and hear from pretty cool stuff in the last three days. The main reason for my visit to São Paulo is to study with clarinetist Alexandre Ribeiro. On Thursday I was glad to see him and touch base and he showed me around the city a bit. Just walking around we ran into the samba school Pérola Negra parading down the street! I went to see Alexandre perform choro at the totally packed bar Ó do Borogodó. Amazing musicians played from 11pm-3am. It was there that it finally hit me that I am here. I was in a bar in São Paulo dancing to choro when 48 hours prior I was in the US. Dancing there I felt less lonely and more at home. Running into Makiko and Adriana from camp didn't hurt either. Four hours of choro though and I couldn't believe I only recognized one song! 



Halysson's mom has been a generous host and even offered to take me shopping when I discovered that it's actually very cold here and I have a suitcase full of skirts! So on my first full day of what will be a long stay here in Brazil, what better way to combat jet lag, homesickness, and overwhelm than to spend some time under fluorescent lighting trying on jeans? Dona Edna spoke to the ladies in the store to figure out what my size in Brazil would be. I joked that it's hard to find pants in the US because they don't fit someone with my bunda. They laughed and said I'd have no problem here. There were signs with all of the different "fits" that were all in English: skinny, boot cut, flare, carrot. Wait, carrot? I pronounced it with my best Portuguese accent and asked them "o que significa cahotchee?" but they said it doesn't mean anything. I told them it must just be English for cenoura and we pondered why someone would want to look like a carrot. I like to wear boot cut at home but was too afraid to pronounce that one. I pointed and asked the sales clerk, and it was just as I thought: bootchie-cootchie. Yes. Love this place. The trying-on process was still unpleasant but we ended up with a couple of winners. When she liked a pair, Dona Edna would smile and do this gesture like she was zipping her mouth and locking it. At least I think that was a good thing. When I decided between the two pairs, she said in Portuguese, "take them both, for your bunda!"

Thoughts from Camp

Every August for the last five years I have traveled to a special place up in the redwoods for one or two blissful, exciting, relaxing, challenging, scary, inspiring, cell phone-free, gourmet food-fueled, love-filled weeks at California Brazil Camp.  This is not a comprehensive summary, but just a couple of stories about some of my favorite parts.

Brazilian music and culture have become such an important part of my life that the majority of my time and energy is spent studying the music, learning the language, making time to go to camp every year, and saving money to travel to Brazil.  Imagine then getting to spend two weeks with a group of people who feel so strongly about that very same music and culture, that they have the exact same priorities.  These people, most of whom I only see once a year plus on facebook, have become family.  When I rolled into camp I was greeted by a few of them with "welcome home."  I receive more smiles and hugs walking around that place in one morning than I receive in a month elsewhere.  That strong sense of community creates an atmosphere of positivity and encouragement at camp.  I constantly hear people complimenting each other and allowing themselves to receive compliments in return.  That atmosphere gives me confidence to express myself and take risks without the fear of making a mistake.  It's a great environment for self-improvement and self-empowerment.

My attempts at pacing myself at camp are futile against the all-night jams and early morning yoga.  There is this moment of clarity that comes when I am utterly exhausted.  It’s the point past the breaking point where I’ve been burning the candle at both ends and in the middle.  I’m running on fumes and my brain is over capacity having been memorizing complex rhythms, dance choreography, chord changes, and new friends’ names.  I am overwhelmed with inspiration, energy, adrenaline, and love, but I’m physically and mentally exhausted.  The overwhelm transforms into a kind of meditation where I’m only able to be in the current moment.  In Derek’s Self-Breema class he always emphasizes “single moment, single activity.”  It’s there, in that moment, that my brain shuts off and my body takes over.  I rely on intuition and muscle memory.  I can let go and dance and dance and dance.  And everything inside me breaks apart and leaves me open to listen and receive: receive inspiration, answers, blessings, messages, ideas.  It’s that moment when I push past that I am reduced to my pure self.  All I need to do is create the space to allow myself to hear.


I’m still very much in a place of uncertainty regarding my life and its direction.  What better spiritual place to contemplate my life than in the middle of 2,000 year old redwood trees?  Mestre Nininho shared a lot about the spiritual energy he felt up there, and that the trees contained the spiritual energy of our past selves.  Also with me for the trip was my necklace of Kali, the Hindu Goddess of destruction, creation, and change, who I felt was also appropriate for this chapter of my life full of major endings and beginnings.  One night I dropped her through the slats in the floor of our tent structure.  After I lost a series of coat hangers down there, Brian said the only way I'd get it back was to get under there.  I crawled through dirt and spiders (!) to retrieve her which felt terrifying but also somehow symbolic.  Also symbolic was in Mark's Bata Ketu class when he taught a rhythm for Olokun.  Olokun is the orixa of the mystery at the bottom of the ocean and in ourselves, which served as powerful imagery for me.  So much is a mystery right now.  While I didn’t return from camp with it all figured out, I am filled with inspiration and ideas.  The loudest message I kept hearing over and over again is that I’m where I’m meant to be and I’m on the right path.  What a comfort in a time of uncertainty to feel at peace with the unknown.

The best advice I received at camp was from Greg when I asked him how he manages to do so many things in his life and do them well.  He said "do what you love and do it a lot."  What a perfect sentiment to summarize not only the Brazil Camp experience but how to take it home with us throughout the year.  So that's what I will keep doing, do what I love and let it guide me to the next step.  And keep creating space so I can keep listening.

Leap and the Net Will Appear

After what felt like both a long thought-out decision and a split-second one at the same time, I decided to leave my job at UCSD.  After five years as a student and six more as an employee, I’ve had such a wonderful time there but realized it was time to move on.  The scary part is I left without a concrete next step in place which is something I’ve never done before.  I know I’m meant to be doing something related to music and I’m excited to have the time and energy to dive in completely and figure that out.  The tentative plan is to take the summer to clear my head, give being a full time musician a try, and plan for the next step.  The next step may include spending a few months in Brazil later this year followed by pursuing a master’s degree when I return.  With final paychecks and vacation day payouts, I think I have enough income and health insurance to last me through August.  After that… “it’s a mystery!” (Shakespeare in Love).

Some of the goals and themes for my summer include improving as a musician, finding more private students, getting more gigs, decompressing from wrapping up six years of a job, getting in shape, researching graduate programs, studying for the GRE, making plans for Brazil, making art, making money, and saving money.  Oh yes and enjoying summer in San Diego!

Yesterday began my first work week without an office to head to.  So what have I done so far in my new life aside from going three days without wearing a bra?  I’ve gone for a walk or yoga every morning followed by actually making breakfast and writing my “Artist’s Way” morning pages.  I made the steel cut kind of oatmeal that takes way too long to cook when your normal routine is toast in the car on the way to the office.  I’ve done a fair amount of pacing around the house deciding what to do next.  I have four different rehearsals and a gig this week before I head out of town to a music camp.  I also made thirteen different to-do lists.  Not thirteen “to-dos” but thirteen lists in different categories.  One of them is called “grad school research” for gathering all of the various steps required in looking at programs and applying to schools.  Another one is called “annoying administrative” for tasks I’ve been putting off like going to the DMV.  Another one is called “self-care” and includes all of the things I’d like to make time for including yoga, lap swimming, writing, and making summer cocktails down at the pool.  

 

The lists are helpful to organize my thoughts and not spend all of my unstructured time playing “Draw Something” on my phone.  But I know I need to give myself some slack and not be too demanding of myself, especially in the beginning.  I need to take some time to relax and enjoy this beautiful free time I suddenly have.  I do thrive on being busy and having a full schedule, but I’d hate to leave one busy life just to jump into another busy one.  The space in between where I can be present with my thoughts I think will be the most important during this time.

The verdict so far right up front?  I don’t regret my decision and I feel fairly calm about this new chapter of life.  But the calm is interrupted by bursts of joy, overwhelm, excitement, loneliness, and confusion.  All in just three days!  I’m expecting a roller coaster but looking forward to the ride and looking forward to holding on to those empty spaces.  I’m grateful to my family and friends and roommates for their support without which I wouldn’t be doing any of this.  And I’ll keep you posted on what unfolds.

Sitting In

It has been a challenging and exciting month of saying so long to my comfort zone and sitting in with new musicians and musical styles.

I was invited by a friend to play clarinet for a Spring Equinox celebration complete with yoga class and a belly dance performance all to live music.  They wanted a clarinetist to accompany a snake dancer and sit in on some of the other numbers.  They only had one run through left so I showed up feeling nervous to be playing on the fly and curious to find out if this snake was live or fake. At the centro getting ready were dancers, doumbek drummers, a mandolin, and an oud player. 

Shey and her snake!

I approached two string players first to try and get the low down on what was happening.  Turns out they weren’t playing any actual songs, but just improvising background music.  I asked if they could show me some of their melodies, or tell me which keys or scales they planned to use so I might be able to join them.  The oud player replied “You must be like one of those real musicians, huh?”  I learned there wasn't exactly a plan.  I was going to have to let go and go with the flow if I wanted to be able to hang.  I spoke with a couple of the drummers who told me to just play whatever I felt like whenever I felt like.  Not sure if these guys realized that some of my music background includes marching band and classical music training.  Just making it up doesn't come naturally to me.

I tried to turn off the regimented parts of my brain but continued to play very little and ask “was that okay?” after every piece.  When the responses were “whatever that is you’re doing, it works!  Just play whatever you feel like!” I realized that I should stop thinking about what I think they want to hear, and start playing what I think would sound good at that moment in time.  And then LET GO, what a concept.  So I played some improvised lines on a Phrygian scale for the dancer whose snake was in fact live.  I threw in a couple Balkan songs I learned from my roommate.  I added color in other places by using my ear and playing what I felt, and it felt great.  What a concept.

This is me making eye contact

Then I was invited by my friend Aaron at work to sit in with his gypsy jazz group, Trio Gadjo.  I expressed that I needed to work on improvisation and Aaron said "well you just have to do it.  The first time you improvise you'll totally suck. But then the next time you won't suck as bad, and then you'll be mediocre, etc."  He sent me some charts that I promptly put off looking at because I knew I was going to have to transpose(!) and memorize(!) them.  I finally committed to a specific date to go play so I had a deadline to aim for.   
I learned a handful of tunes, found some recordings, and practiced along with the accompaniment on my new Real Book app.  I arrived at the Ritual Tavern alone feeling kind of prepared, kind of memorized and kind of confident.  Definitely not totally ready.  Aaron called me up right away and I didn’t decline when they offered me a music stand.  It felt a little less scary to have the charts in front of me (especially to remind me of the chord progressions) but I knew the tunes enough look up and make eye contact with the guys.  Gypsy jazz is intimidating to me because the melodies are fairly short and then it's all about soloing.  But man it was fun and what a great group to play with!  Turns out "not totally ready" is still better than not playing at all.  I went back a second night and even forgot to bring my charts, but I did just fine.  What a great experience for me to play new tunes with new people and just put myself it out there.  Jamming really is a muscle that needs to be exercised.

Goofing around with Debbi and Richard at the Turquoise

Then I had the opportunity to jam with two of my favorite musicians, singer Debbi Ebert and pianist/saxophonist Richard Abraham.  These two are the most talented and versatile cats I know, and they also happen to be my aunt and uncle.  Every time we go see them perform somewhere they ask "did you bring your axe??" and I never did because I was too afraid to sit in.  Well I've been stretching that jamming muscle and decided it was a great opportunity for more exercise.  Even my sister jumped up to sing and we jammed on one of our Schmitz Sister favs, "It Don't Mean a Thing."  We played one or two more and I sounded alright and had fun.  My uncle taught me how to signal to the accompanist what key you want without shouting: you hold a number of fingers pointing up for sharps or down for flats (2 fingers up for D, 3 fingers down for Eb, etc). What a fun family jam.

It sounds like the lessons here are to keep practicing, playing, doing, creating, putting yourself out there as much as possible.  That's the only way it gets easier.  You'll never be totally ready.  Let go and don't be held back by expectations of perfection.  It's too hard to take a first step if you're afraid that you won't be good, especially because you definitely won't be good.  But then you will be.  And no matter what, it's so much fun in the process.

Final Reflections

My trip was coming to an end and with lots remaining on the to-do list, the fact that I know I will return some time soon made everything feel a little less pressured. I decided to spend my last full day doing the thing I had done the least: relax at the beach all day and swim in the clear water. It was I think the best use of my time so far!

This last week I got to hear some cool samba in a refurbished mansion Clube dos Democráticos in Lapa with former colleague now traveler Kieran Cusack. I had a great chat with Phil Galinsky from Samba New York while we dined at a Lebanese restaurant in Copacabana! Some of the best sfeeha, zaatar, taboulli, kibbe after my mom's plus llive doumbek and belly dance - slight detour from local culture but I was at home.

I had a great drum shopping experience at Casa Oliveira and pledged to dedicate myself to the caixa by purchasing my own. Got to drum with Bangalafumenga again, this time in a concert along with their band plus special guest Milton Nascimento! I loved hearing the band live after their CD had provided the majority of my personal soundtrack leading up to my trip. Seeing Milton up close was awesome.

More choro at an outdoor market with a very nice group Pixin Bodega. I hung out and jammed with the guitarist later to some of his original songs. I shopped at the Hippie Market in Ipanema with Pauline Serrano and heard samba stories from Portland including her rad all-girl group Samba Gata. Then I finally got to meet Paul whose family I knew as a kid and whose room I first stayed in here.

I love this place. And what a great trip filled with great people, lots of playing opportunities, constant music everywhere, a few tears but a lot of learning, and a lot of cerveja gelada. Oh, and arroz, feijao, couve, moqueca, coxinha, aipim, frango a passarinho, pão de queijo, agua de coco, suco de abacaxi com hortelã, and queijo coalho. Já tenho saudades.

I'm glad to have experienced a once in a lifetime experience of the spectacle and folia in Rio but it was exhausting. Without a regular schedule and plenty of what Rebecca calls FOMO (fear of missing out) I didn't get much sleep. The rooster outside my window that sounded like the yellow guy from Angry Birds didn't help either. I had a blast but I also look forward to returning at a time when there are fewer tourists and more opportunities for music.

The returning part is still vague. I would like to come back in the next year and stay for six months or so. I was hoping for some inspiration on this trip in terms of future possibilities. I was pretty much bombarded by inspiration but it's still just chaos in my head waiting to be sorted out in its own time. If anything on this trip, I became more familiar with the city and made friends which is more important than anything. It feels more like a real place and a home I could go back to for a while.

I've been feeling so much gratitude for the opportunity of this trip and the people who helped me along the way. I knew a great deal of vocab from singing Brazilian songs with my friend and Portuguese teacher Claudia. I received lots of encouraging emails and facebook posts from friends, especially my Mom and Kristin and Sylvie. I got to video skype with my family and Ryan and they all showed up wearing carnaval masks. My Carioca friend Leo and his dad drove all the way to the airport both times. My colleagues at work took care of so much in my absence. I'm grateful for my Brazil camp friends who were happy to meet up and share information. I'm grateful to you who read my blog and shared your thoughts and stories. I'm grateful for a safe trip with nothing lost or stolen and, except for a few hundred mosquito bites, I never got hurt or sick. Most of all I am grateful for my poor f'ing flat feet who stayed with me through blisters, mosquitos, cobblestones, standing, and dancing throughout this adventure.

On the drive to the airport, there it was, the Cristo Redentor up on the hill, reminding me that eu vou voltar.

Navigating language: Não means não

I love this place, and I love navigating a new city and culture. I remember how frustrating it was in Bordeaux trying to survive, find an apartment, make friends, all in another language. It felt the same here all over again:

Me: "ah que fofo"
Them: "como?"
Me: "fofu? fahfo? FOHfoh? Fawfu?"
Them: "Oh, you mean 'fofo.'"
Me: "what did I say?"

As soon as you realize that you can communicate enough to have food, shelter, safety, and a bathroom, the rest just becomes a game. Lucky for me I am an expert at Catch Phrase and Charades. The best was when the person spoke no English because I was forced to practice and they were forced to have patience with me. At the drugstore:

"Excuse me sir, do you speak English? No? Ok here we go. I am wearing shoes. My feet are hot. Sometimes my feet are wet. Can you please help me with my wet feet?"

He found me some foot powder.

At the rehearsal:

"it's like a little box and when you play, the box tells you if you need to adjust your instrument."

Someone found me a tuner.

Pantomiming a request for a straw at the bar later got a funnier reaction.

At most of the corner places, ordering a tasty coxinha or pão de queijo and juice was a treat but a challenge. They didn't want to play along as much and I think they upped their accents on purpose so I wouldn't understand. They have like ten different ways to ask "for here or to go" just to catch you off guard. "Pra levar? Pra comer? Pra viajar? Pra agora? Pra aqui? Pra ai?" Then you don't pay until after you eat but they won't remember what you had, so you have to stumble through your order again to the same blank stare. In the end you are drinking fresh squeezed guava juice so who cares?

Did you know as Sylvie pointed out that when the door says "empurrer" it means "push" which is fine. But when it says "puxe" pronounced "pooshy" it means pull? Gets me very time. And when speaking a mix of Portugese and English in a potential romantic situation don't forget that "nao" sounds like "now."

It feels somehow like the stakes aren't as high, like I wasn't as stressed about making a mistake as I was in France. One reason is that I find the Brazilians more willing to play along than the French but I also think I've changed a bit since then. Both times have been just as rewarding to unlock a culture through navigating its language. But I also remember how special it is to get to a place in the language where you can have conversations you treasure. My 83 year old cavaco player friend explained that the choro "Ginga do Mane" is about a famous futebol player and his moves. At the next rehearsal he had printed out the story for me. Love this place.

Chorinho = Little cry

My last night was a challenge and had me ending my trip the way it started, with some frustration and a few tears. Thanks to the suggestion of my Brazil Camp clarinet buddy Annie and help from Rebecca and Dennis I was able to get in touch with accomplished clarinetist Paulo Sergio Santos. He didn't have time for a lesson but invited me to the bar Semente in Lapa to see his son's group play choro and to join in.

All of the choro musicians I've encountered in Rio have been really good, but this was a different ball game. It wasn't a roda or an open group playing publicly, it was more of a concert in front of an attentive audience. These cats were pros and I was mesmerized. They weren't reading charts and were barely even looking at each other but somehow still communicating intensely. Paulo Sergio got up and wailed effortlessly on some tunes to the cheering crowd. Then it was my turn. I walked to the stage and set up my big gringo binder on a flimsy music sand and adjusted the mic which resulted in a bunch of feedback. They asked what few songs I wanted to play and my words came out in French. Well at least I know the French is still in there. I played with energy, was able to communicate little intros and outros, took turns, and played a couple of ok solos. But I didn't play cleanly or with enough confidence, and the more I tried to tear my face from the book and make eye contact, the more mistakes I made. I felt out of place and felt that I had embarrassed myself. Paulo Sergio took a risk inviting me to play not having heard me and I didn't want to let him down. I spent the rest of the evening doubting my abilities as a musician and questioning what I'm doing here.

Maybe it sounds like a dramatic reaction, but this was also at the end of my trip and height of my exhaustion. Near the end of the night I looked out the window right up into the Arcos da Lapa and reminded myself to get present again and remember where I am, in Rio listening to some incredible music. I don't need to have all the answers figured out yet. It's been a busy trip and I've jumped out of my comfort zone into a lot of great learning opportunities in a new language. I decided I need to pat myself on the back for putting myself out there with an open heart. And this evening was also a wake up call reminder of what I need to work on musically when I get home. The last song they played was 'Receita de Samba' and I got up and danced.

1,006 Choros

Before Carnaval I was invited to the home of one of the choro players I had met in Larangeiras. He has a weekly rehearsal with his group Choro na Veia (choro in the vein!) and invited me to join them. It was five men, mostly retired, two over 80 years old. They had beer and snacks and extra sheet music for me to read (and to transpose of course!)

The bandolim player was 88 which means he was born the decade when choro first became popular. He wore these high waisted shorts and announced every time a certain song demanded that he stand to play. I learned that he also writes his own choro music and just finished his 1,006th one. He corrected me that he doesn't write the melodies, he 'receives' them when he's on the bus or at home hearing the rhythm of high heeled shoes walk up the stairs. The guitarists write chords to the melodies. He has written a tune for each member of their group and they played them for me. I was invites to play 'Sapatos Altos' ('High Heel Shoes') and made it through despite his illegible penmanship. I asked if he would be willing to share one of his pieces to let me bring to my group in California and they liked the idea of an intercontinental exchange. One of the guitarists said he'd send me a readable electronic copy.

They picked a lot of tunes to play that I didn't know but were apparently very important to my choro education. A few played solo pieces for me to ear. Then they asked me to play an American tune. I realized I don't know too many! What do I play for my new Brazilian musician friends, 'Louie Louie'? Actually that might have been fun. But I remembered I had a copy of 'The Entertainer' in my binder and as soon as I began they all jumped in in perfect contrapuntal harmony.

I'm feeling so grateful for these special moments I've been fortunate to have. The older guitarist who hadn't spoken or smiled much all evening gave me a compliment at the end. At least I think it was a compliment. Many times here I just fill the blanks in my comprehension with something completely imagined. I asked him to repeat it slowly since it sounded important. He said "I would like to congratulate you. It takes courage to come to a foreign country alone and seek out musical opportunities like you did. It has been an honor to play with you." I'm pretty sure that's why he said. Or maybe it was, "yeah we only invited you because we thought you were cute." Either way, the honor was also mine.

Monogato

Like I was saying, nothing here happens according to plan, but that's the best part. Every little moment here has happened for a reason and has been part of a greater mysterious plan that always works out. I am learning to just let these moments happen. I'm not saying that if I just sat on my ass that would someone would give me a trip to Rio and make all of these opportunities happen. I'm putting in the work too and putting myself out there. I put the word out to Jacare that I was interested in taking drum lessons on my visit. He put me in touch with Nico who is the principal repique player for Sao Clemente. I had a great lesson with Nico who then invited me to play with his bloco which then opened up a whole other world here.

The bloco is called Monogato which Brazilians think is hilarious and I don't really get it. Is it because it sounds like 'one cat' or a play on 'Monobloco'? Anyway, my Portuguese comprehension got a partial bar name on a partial street name. Somehow ("it's a mystery!" -Shakespeare in Love) I found them. A bunch of Brazilian guys wearing tank tops that said 'Monogato' hanging outside a bar called 'Bar Gatao,' which turned out to be their namesake. None of these guys were drummers, just members of the bloco who drink beer and hang out. They directed me to the beach where I found Nico and met some of the drummers. There were a couple of Brazilians but the majority were German and French tourists! They've all been in Rio for a few weeks and have been playing with Nico. Erik plays in a samba school in Frankfurt. Entry from Turkey and Kylu from Poland both live in Germany and play samba in Berlin. The French were mostly from Tours and have a group there.

Of course all of my own cultures and languages would come together here in Rio through samba. Everyone spoke a mix of everything. I loved hearing the Germans speak to each other but they usually spoke English with me. The French went back and forth between English and Portuguese but mostly French with each other and with one of the Brazilians who lived in Switzerland. I opened my mouth to speak to them and I. couldn't. remember. any. of. my. French. Oh my god! I tried to just ask where they were from and it came out in Portuguese. I hope that is just a testament to how steeped in Portuguese I've been and how natural it's become. That French better still be in there somewhere though.

We all didn't need to speak much anyway because our common shared language was samba. All really good players. There were only a handful of us so Nico played something else and had me play the calls on repique. I took it as an honor but started to stress out (there it is again) about being the newcomer and not knowing their material. They had a couple guys playing Monogato's own enredo and they kept yelling at me for missing the breaks! But I was trying to get cues from Nico who seemed to be cuing me with eye contact behind his non see-through sunglasses. Again, finally one of those moments when I realized we were having fun and I should relax and enjoy this moment which also led to many other nice moments.

The Germans and I joined Nico with another bloco 'Meu Bem, volto ja!' (my dear, I'll be right back!) A lot of the blocos have funny names sometimes with sexual innuendos like 'It's small but it will grow.' I enjoyed spending more time with Emre and Kilo and dancing to live pagode in the street. We got to join Monogato again for a churrasco, visit Nico's family in the Chapeu Mangueira favela, and then joined Nico at Sao Clemente's post carnaval celebration. I enjoyed speaking to some of the drummers about their emotional experiences from the parade.

All this from telling Jacare I was looking for a lesson, and from him being willing to share a contact. I met up with Emre today to wish him a safe trip to Salvador and we will discuss our future international samba exchange!

Bangalafumenga!

What an honor to play with these drummers. I feel fortunate to know Dudu through Brazil Camp and we were lucky to have him come to San Diego to lead workshops. He and the other directors welcomed the few of us Americans and made us feel at home. The rehearsals are fun and well structured and productive. Sticks and straps all in organized containers, drums lined up in order, directors for each section with clear signals. Very impressive. Wicked rhythms. I did my research and studied up in advance, plus Dudu lead a repique sectional, but I still wish I could have had one more rehearsal, especially since I couldn't hear the singers during rehearsal. And then there was a parade!

It wasn't really a parade but a standing show. It was worlds different from parading with the Bambas do Catete which was a crazy (and fun) chaos in the street. The 100-piece Banga bateria was sectioned off by a cord from the 60,000 member crowd. 60,000! We couldn't see too far while playing but on our walk back we could see how far the masses really reached. Amazing energy from both the crowd and bateria kept growing exponentially. We had a bit of shade for a minute but soon the sun was overhead and blasting. That plus strong fumes from the trio electrico truck stage behind us made for an intense 2.5 hours.

Carl from Boulder was rocking some repique calls and a few of them did an awesome repique feature together. I made sure I could see Carl because there was so much material to remember and he had it down. I knew a good amount though and didn't step in any holes thank goodness. We pulled off the choreography that the Austin Samba School called the munchkin march in their carnaval this year. Every time we played a frevo the crowd exploded. Whenever there was a lost child the singer would announce it and say to the mom "your child is here, come to the stage but be calm and don't worry, he's in the house of Banga and he's with family waiting for you."

Water and beer were passed around the whole time even while we were playing. This group is serious players, but it is carnaval after all. My beer got kicked over after a minute and the poor guy next to me forgot he had a full one in his pocket when we crouched down. We need those beer holder drum straps!

At one point I looked around and saw the Cristo Redentor statue in the background. I have some sort of spiritual connection with that statue which reminds me of my love affair with the Eiffel Tower. In Paris the tower would peek out from behind buildings and remind me that I know I'll be back again. Here in Rio the statue reminds me to take a moment and remember where I am and to be present and grateful. What a nice moment to look around and realize that this for real! Thanks to Banga for letting me be a part of the wonderful projects they have going on.

Here's a great video with some footage, interviews of Dudu and Jacare, and a couple brief photos where you can see me for a sec!

Hot and Heavy

In an email Dennis Broughton said "have a good trip to Rio, things are getting hot and heavy down there." I figured I knew what he meant but I really had no idea.

Hot and heavy is the incredible heat even at 2am and the incredible weight of the air that clings to your clothes. It's the vendor carrying a grill with hot coals across the burning sand. It's the temperature generated by a crowd of thousands cramming in closer to hear the band. It's sitting in a slow moving car without AC as it wades past droves of singing revelers. It's standing like sardines in a way past capacity metro car. It's drumming and dancing for three hours in overhead sun in front of a truck emitting exhaust fumes. It's visiting a friend's home in a favela up the 165 steps they climb daily. It's standing next to the drummers at Portela's rehearsal in Madureira that first moment when the bateria fires up. It's dancing no matter how steamy the club and how much your feet sting.

It's been a hot and heavy trip!

Think Less Live More

I haven't quite found my rhythm here yet. Maybe it's because some nights I'm in bed at 11pm and some at 7am. My eating routine is erratic and a large part of my diet has consisted of fried (but yummy) street food. But that's how vacation works sometime, right? Even more noticeable than my scattered schedule is the fact that my brain has been constantly racing here. This trip has so many purposes for me, to hear great music, to play great music, to study with the pros, to find inspiration, to research future job opportunities, to find my life's meaning, to figure out where to go with my music. Inspiration now! No big deal for a three week trip, right? I'm Rio de Janeiro and I am stressed out. Something seems wrong with this picture.

I made two new friends, a Turkish guy and a Polish guy both from Germany. My Turkish friend Emre at one point said "you're a list person, aren't you?" and I asked him how he knew that about me. He replied "you mentioned that Rio is one of the cities on your list of places to live, and you talked about all the things on your list of what you want to accomplish on your visit." While I think it's a good thing that I am beginning to make clear what I want in my life, he brings up a good point that I am micromanaging myself a bit. And he saw that I am in Rio and I'm stressed.

So I am now reminding myself that I am in Rio and should take some advice from the Cariocas. I saw a local in Copacabana with a shirt that had in English "think less, live more." Life has a more relaxed pace here and people don't worry or over analyze things as much as I do. Sometimes people are on time, and sometimes they are late. But it doesn't matter, they just sit and have a beer in the sunshine while they wait and 'fica tranquilo.' In these blocos I've played with I've been stressed that I don't know the breaks or I made a mistake. No one cares. They are all talented musicians but they are drumming for the love of music, not to be perfect.

So the lesson here is to take more deep breaths, feel grateful for the opportunity to be here, think less, and enjoy the ride. Nothing here will go according to my plan and that's how these special moments happen. And when I use the 'ser' instead of 'estar,' the Brazilians know what I mean. When a drummer says "we'll meet somewhere at the end of Leme around lunchtime" I'll just hang out and drink a beer in Leme until I hear drums. It will work out somehow because it always does.

It's time for me to head to Leme and see what happens. I'll be meeting up with my new samba friends from Berlin which just happens to be one of the cities on my list.

Here's a photo of the body wash I picked up at a drugstore here. It makes me smile :)

A Bateria of One

Carnaval officially started on Friday and I started it off with a bang with Leonardo, his friend Renan, his dad, and a bunch of his dad's friends. They always go see the bloco Embaixadores da Folia in the center of town. It was fun to be with locals and get a taste of their version of carnaval. I wasnt sure how serious the bloco was musically so I strapped on my tamborim case just in case and it doubled as a purse.

Leo's dad was armed with a bottle of flavored rum and his own glass. He made sure our cups were full along the way but that we were also hydrating. The crowd grew quickly to a thousand people and we all just paraded with the crowd down the very long Avenida Rio Branco. I quickly noticed the effects of the rum refills. I was able to keep sober enough to keep track of my friends and my purse, and 'alegre' enough that I couldn't feel my hurting feet and that the pushing and shoving drunk revelers in the crowd didn't bother me. As fun a party as it was, I don't think I'd have enjoyed it without being a little 'bebada.'

The big truck had a Banda with horn players belting carnaval tunes. I kept listening for the bateria which is my main interest and I think there just wasn't one. At one point thanks to the pleading of our drunk contingent I whipped out the tamborim and played some dezenhos on my own. The crowd around all turned surprised at the gringa putting on her own mini parade and crooning all the words to 'E Hoje.'

By that point Leo's dad an friends had adopted a woman and her beer cart. They helped her push it along and she let them keep the rum cold in her ice. We all helped shout out 'cerveja gelada!' to passerby. The rest of the night was spent dancing in the street topped off by a banana, cheese, and cinnamon sandwich. Glad I caught some of the folia but looking forward to hearing more music this weekend.

Translating solfege and Portuguese into Bb

Marino called me as he said he would with instructions for the roda de choro on Tuesday. I couldn't understand a word over the phone and tried to explain in Portuguese that I would need him to spell the name of the bar or text it to me. Instead his plan was to meet at a metro station and he would walk me to this mystery place. Marino and I met, both on time, and walked to a bar I realize I still don't know the name of.

The choroes were in a back room around a table with beer and there was no one else in the room. Throughout the night there were a couple of tables with people but the players played mostly for their own enjoyment. Small group, some of which were the same people from Sunday. Ana welcomed me and let me sit next to her. She was a lot friendlier and we chatted a lot. She let me call some of the tunes and we took turns playing the melodies and sometimes little counter melodies under each other. She and Marino gave me an education on composers and players I should listen to. Everyone kept making American jokes with the few English words they knew. I learned that a couple of the players have their own groups but none of them play professionally. Most of them were just retired people playing for fun. Really good players. This seven string guitarist played some choros I called that he hadn't heard before and it sounded like he'd known them all his life. The cavaquinho player was 82 and he played the harmony line in the B part of 'Lamentos' and I started to tear up a little.

We played a lot of tunes I hadn't heard before but I was able to keep up. It was like translating from three languages. They would tell me the key of the song in portuguese and in solfege and I'd have to translate that into my language plus transpose into my key. "Si bemol" was B flat but for me was C. Just takes my brain a couple extra steps. We played Brasileirinho, Vibracoes, Vou Vivendo, Naquele Tempo, all the hits.

Marino invited me to a rehearsal for his group, Choro na Veia, at his place. Story to come, but off to go see what folia this city gets into for carnaval!

Choro in Larangeiras

On my first full day here, I strapped on my backpack with clarinet inside and ventured to Larangeiras. There is a roda de choro in the praca sao Salvador on Sundays. Choro seems to be on a different schedule than most other things here; the choroes actually start on time! I arrived about 30 minutes after the start time and they were in full swing. About 15 people with quite a crowd around them, right in the middle of the plaza. It took me a couple songs to build up my courage but after Cochichando I went up to the flute player who seemed to be the one calling the shots. I went up to her and said "eu toco clarinete, posso tocar?" She kind of barked "sabe choro?" and then nodded when I said yes. There weren't any chairs available so I parked myself right next to her on a little brick step and squeezed into the roda.

They played a lot of tunes I knew and I had a couple of my books with me. I tried to feel out the way of things, which players were playing the melodies, how they were taking turns, if I should wait to be invited or just assert myself. It was kind of a mix. The flute took the lead and there was a trombone player who was awesome. Sometimes I'd just insert myself in a section and hopefully get a nod from one of them. Sometimes the flute player (Ana, I learned) would point to me to play the section coming up. When I didn't know a song I would try to see the page under Ana's moving flute and do my best to transpose. Otherwise I'd get up and dance with the 80 year old woman in sparkly heels and a clown wig. Did I mention it's carnaval season and all of the players had silly little hats or whiskers or funny big ears?

At the end, the group played some marchinas like 'o abre alas' which are very old traditional carnaval songs. The crowd which had really grown started to sing and sway along. It was interesting to watch but wasn't as fun not knowing the words. From the few words I understood, a lot of the lyrics sounded like old drinking songs to me. It reminded me a little of the Banda des Sans Soucis I joined in Bordeaux.

I hung around to thank the musicians for letting me play. A few of them came up to congratulate me on my playing and ask how I learned choro as a young person in California. Ana was brusk but congratulated me as well. She and the pandeiro player Marino invited me to another roda on Tues.

This choro was the morning of the day I later on paraded with Jacare and the Bambas do Catete. It's interesting to balance between these two worlds: the early morning choro players arriving on time with their sheet music in binders, and then the late night bloco drummers drinking beer during their parade and never staying in a line. I love both worlds, but if I try to keep up in both I might not get any sleep!

Lightning, fireworks, and drums

I met up with Jacare and friends on Sunday for a drink. Well I didn't just meet up with them, I found them after mis-hearing the Portuguese street names over the phone, walking way too far out of the way, and creating wide open blisters from my comfy sandals which are not as comfy with my feet swollen to twice their size in the heat. My feet were in so much pain and it became one of the many tearful moments I've had these first couple days. I've just been feeling overwhelmed, lonely, and already mosquito bitten. The last thing i need is feet problems. Tears subsided when I finally found them and had a sip of beer. Carl and I agree beer seems to fix everything here. Also Jacare's sweet friend saw my pain and switched shoes with me for the afternoon!

Jacare was very kind to then invite me to join him at one of his special places where he is welcomed like family, the rehearsal for Bloco Bambas do Catete. He introduced me to the mestres who agreed to let me play just based on his connection to me. Jacare looked at me and just said 'don't fuck up.' They found me a drum and a shirt and and I learned that this rehearsal was actually a full street parade. I was nervous and everyone looked so serious. Tough guys holding cigarettes in their mouth while they drummed. As I looked around, trying to find a spot, I realized there were no other women holding a drum. A few in the front on chocalho maybe, but none near me. I went back to Jacare and Hilda and drank more beer. I was instructed to stand between two caixa players and my matching band instincts told me to remember who I was standing next to and to 'guide right' to stay lined up. There was a lot of yelling from the mestres and the noise of the musicians warming up on the float was disorienting. During a pause the cavaco player started noodling 'Brasileirinho' and it made me smile and reminded me to look around and take it all in. It's my second day in brazil and I'm wearing a bloco shirt and a drum. Very exciting.

Call-in and we were off! I remembered who I was positioned next to as we started down the street and they were no where to be found. In fact, I didn't see the lines anymore. Drummers all mixed up all over the place. Huge crowd around us screaming and dancing and passing through the bateria. Total chaos! Dropped my marching band instincts and picked up my pep band ones. Played my heart out and tried not to get trampled. Soon it's dark and starts to rain. And then pours. Thank goodness for the borrowed havaianas which are more suited for puddles. And then lightning. Huge bolts across the whole sky. I thought 'what are the things to remember in a lightning storm,' and thought that having a big metal can strapped to your body is probably not one. My next thought 'I'll just count the seconds between the lightning and thunder.' Well unless the thunder is playing on 2 and 4 I couldn't hear it. Next thought 'just stand by someone with a bigger drum!' No one else seemed to be phased except for the poor surdo players whose skin heads were soggy. The rest of us pressed on for what seemed like an hour, parading along the street I had just been crying down that afternoon. I knew my hands hurt from playing non stop ride, and my poor flat feet hurt from the havaianas, but I couldn't feel anything except the rain on my face and the rush of drumming in Rio. Fireworks went off over our heads and on the street in front of us.

I got some thumbs up from a bunch of the guys at the end and went up to thank all the mestres who were very sweet. More beer helped the pain coming back into my feet. I think my plan is to find a balance of enough beer to keep me going, but of course not so much that I am not aware of my surroundings. It has given me more confidence in Portuguese and has helped me ignore the little worries that keep creeping into my head. Don't worry Mom I'm being safe!