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!

It takes a village

I am safe and (mostly) well in Rio and in two days I've already played in a roda de choro and paraded in a bloco down the street in the rain. There have been some tough moments already, but I am here!

They say it takes a village and I have been thinking about the people that assembled to help get me here and help me survive here so far. My former boss Christi has been encouraging me to make this trip for so long, and my current boss Ahren has made it possible for me to take the time off. Plus Adam is holding down the fort while I'm gone. My friend John let me buy some of his credit card miles for cheap and my family has been so supportive along the way. Kristin and Sylvie were my packing advice gurus.

I was picked up at the airport by Leonardo and his dad. I only knew Leo online after my friend Paul introduced me to his new pen pal. Leo and dad took me for feijoada and Leo added me to his phone's family plan so I could have a phone. He is so sweet and I'm lucky to have him here.

I'm staying the first few nights in an apartment in Copacabana in the vacant room of Paul Fischer who is out traveling. He and I may have met once when we were kids but we don't remember. His American father met my German dad at university in Germany and our parents were good friends after that when they lived in the states. I went to school with their other son David at UCSD and now Paul is studying in Rio and I'm staying with his Norwegian roommates.

I have Brazil Camp to thank enormously as well. Most of the people I've been in contact with here I met through camp. Jacare has been a great guide already and I'm fortunate that he's been willing to share some of his Rio with me. Tonight I'll meet up with Carl and Owen and probably Sergio at the Bangalafumenga rehearsal. I contacted Dudu who said I could parade with them and it's thanks to Kathleen, Jacare, and camp that I know him. Hell, it's because of camp that I play choro in the first place and have had great musical experiences here so far. More stories later.

So, just feeling tired, overwhelmed, a little stressed, but extremely extremely grateful.

Tchau for now.

Brazil!

My staff threw me a sweet going away party

It's just after midnight and I'm pretty much packed and my suitcase isn't completely full.  The way I normally pack, this almost feels like something's wrong.  But I'm hoping it means that I'm just ready to go.  Flying to Rio tomorrow on what will be an 18 hour trip including three flights.  Feeling under the weather which I'm not excited about.  But it's Carnaval in summertime in Rio!  I can't be anything but excited!  I was fortunate to go to Rio and Salvador a little over a year ago and fell in love with Brazil.  I met great people, I heard great music and had great opportunities to play, and everyone was just as late as I was all the time but somehow we were all on time.  I loved it.  I've decided that later this year I'm going to spend an extended stay somewhere in Brazil for three to six months, more if I can find a way.  So this three week trip is an exploratory one to think about future plans, look for potential future jobs, and think about my life's path.  Oh, and also I'll be on vacation in Rio during Carnaval!

I don't have too many set plans yet but I'm hoping they will come together after I arrive.  My goals are to hear tons of music, dance my heart out, and play as much drums and clarinet as I can.  If I take anything away from this trip, I just want it to be inspiration, inspiration, inspiration.

I'll be picked up on Saturday by my new friend and pen-pal Leonardo who I have yet to meet in person.  He'll take me to the apartment in Copacabana where I'll spend five days in the apartment of a family friend I knew when I was a kid and his Norwegian roommates.  After that it's to an apartment in the neighborhood of Gloria, and after that I'm still looking for places to stay.  So here I go!  I am so grateful to my boss and colleagues at work for making taking this three week leave possible and easy and to my family and friends for being so supportive.  Stay tuned for what I'm sure will be many adventures to come.

From the going away card from my staff :)

Improvisation

"There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening,that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and will be lost."  -Martha Graham

I am realizing how important it is for me to be able to express myself and to communicate clearly. I studied linguistics and I’m good at learning languages.  I’ve communicated in Portuguese over a static-filled cell phone with someone with a speech impediment and not only could I understand, I won the argument we were having.  I studied music and have the versatility to play in a range of styles and settings.  I’m good at explaining drum rhythms to all kinds of learning styles in the samba group. During my creative journey, I’ve explored expressing myself through journaling, dance, collage, painting, and of course, music. But while music is my main art, there is something holding me back from expressing myself fully with it.  It’s like the frustration I experience when I want to express extreme gratitude to my host in a foreign language and all I know how to say is a basic “thank you.”  The holdup I’m experiencing is with improvisation and my lack of experience.  I want nothing more than to be up on stage and just belt out a clarinet solo that is full of grace, soul, and most importantly, Stef.  But I feel that I lack the skills I need in order to pull that off.

I’ve come a long way since the days of shaking my head so they’d skip me when it was time to solo in high school.  Now I’m the front woman of my own group and I just fake it til I make it.  Most of a solo is confidence anyway, right?  That plus all the playing I've been doing, my work with The Artist's Way, and tips I’ve picked up from friends and teachers along the way (focus more on solid rhythms than the actual notes, don’t start on the root, play out!) have helped my solos develop to a place where they are maybe halfway decent.  But I long for so much more than that.  In order to head toward that goal, I know I need to play more and listen more, but I also need to work on building a better foundation of jazz theory.

            I signed up for Jazz Improvisation at City College and have had a couple classes so far.  It has been simultaneously frightening,inspiring, fun, frustrating, and the best thing I could do for myself right now.  The professor Yochanan Winston (Doc)is tough but encouraging and has emphasized how everyone deserves and is capable of playing jazz.  In the first class he said when someone performs jazz for the first time, the spirits of the elders like Miles and Coltrane are up there on stage with their arms around him saying “Hey, that’s a great tune, it’s a tough one but you’re gonna do great.”  I love that. Doc said to play jazz we need to set our alarms to jazz in the morning,listen on the way to work, learn to play the tunes memorized and in several keys, transcribe other players’ solos by ear, know all the chords front and backwards, play all the time.

            None of Doc’s suggestions are anything new that I haven’t heard before.  So why am I so motivated to finally put these things into practice when I wasn’t before?  I could have added Jazz 88 to my radio presets and practiced scales ages ago. I first thought that my problem was laziness or even worse, that improvising wasn’t important enough to me to work on it.  But I realized that my music background has always been in an academic environment and I’m used to having some kind of teacher provide structure.  If that’s a good way for me to learn, why not accept that and go with it.  I know now that my motivation to get better at this stuff is there, I just needed a little push.  Stay tuned for more stories as the semester progresses!