Brazil on Tour! (english version)

Brazil on Tour!

“You arrived less than 24 hours ago, and look at the mess you already made!” Svenyboy told us laughing.

It was early morning. He had just arrived from Croatia, and he had no clue what a bad story it really was. The sheets of Raymond’s bed were all dirty with blood.

“Welcome to Brazil man!” Raymond answered him.

“He cut his finger open, that bean, I think it’s broken. It’s best if we go to a hospital” I said.

“What the hell happened last night?’ Svenyboy was eager to know.

“The question is: How will we go on stage tomorrow night?” I wanted to know.

“No…. The real question is: What the hell will we tell Peter Frame?” Raymond asked, and Raymond was almost always right.

The great Peter Frame was already waiting for us in the theater that evening of July in Brazil, in Sao Paolo, thirty-one degrees. We really did have to make up a good excuse that would hold up. We couldn’t tell the great Peter Frame what had really happened, he would’ve lost his mind and would’ve sent us all back to wash dishes.

I said it by the way, that it wasn’t at all a good idea, to run away from the bar without paying the bill. I said it, damn it, that it wasn’t a good idea…

But they, the others of the company, who like me had arrived on the first flight to Sao Paolo, had done it anyway. The genius idea was Todd’s, it was obviously him and his donkey brain! How can you think, you who comes from the deserted valleys of Belgium, to pull one on the Brazilians? They who have the sun, the palm trees, the coconuts, and the women in bikinis?

First, I saw Todd give it a go, then I saw Raymond running, then all the other ones behind them. And after them, I saw a bunch of Brazilian waiters, all with their white shirts, and their angry faces. I had gone out to smoke with Miriam. Even Miriam, when she saw all those people running, thought well to follow them.

Everyone was running, and I instead, lit up another cigarette, turned my heels and walked calmly, I went the other way. Once I went back to the hotel and saw the others, I told them:

“Rule number one: Never run!”

Anyway, poor Raymond had nothing to do with it, he had just been dragged by that donkey of Todd, while he, genuine as he was, would have never stolen anything in his life. However, Raymond was the first one they got to, and he fell, and cut his finger pretty badly.

“So?” said poor Raymond.

“So I’ll take you to the hospital. That’s it.”

I pulled him up and we went to the hospital. I waited in the courtyard for some time. There were plenty of strange plants that I had never seen before. Huge trees, full of leaves, of branches and vines, one could even hang from them. There, in Sao Paolo, they had the jungle in the city. Not bad. And the tourists, all whitened by their sunscreen, enjoyed themselves while strolling around, taking pictures of everything, in the streets, the bars, and then they went to the favelas to photograph the poor. “That’s right, this is a poor child from the favela.” They would tell their friends back home.

There’s no way I’m going in the favelas! I’m not like that! The Pope goes there, millions of European beans, as well as the cops to shoot the children. No one needs a presumptuous actor to wander there as well.

Raymond came out of the hospital with his arm in a cast that went up to his elbow.

“What now?”

We went back to the hotel. It was a bad story. We were back in Raymond’s and Svenyboy’s room.

I started talking:

“This is the plan Svenyboy: You’ll fill in for Raymond.”

“Me?”

“There is no alternative. We have to find a solution or Peter Frame will kick us out.”

“But what do I have to do with it? I arrived this morning!”

“Why don’t you do it Silvano?”

“I’m an actor not a dancer!”

“Who cares!”

The truth is that nobody wanted to do that scene because it was crazy: you had to stop a woman from getting onto the stage, and she would’ve had to do everything she could to get up there. It was a very beautiful scene, very poetic, but the woman was Elisabeth DeKonigs… I’ll explain you who Elisabeth DeKonigs was another time.

We got to the SESC theater of San Paolo, in the Pinheiro neighborhood, while the sun was beginning to set. It was still very hot and sticky. Raymond, Svenyboy and I were sweaty and exhausted from that long day.

“I’ll go get some water, I’ll be right back, you go ahead.”

I went to get some water, but I didn’t come right back. At the bar I met Mariana.

“Yes, I’m an actor. My name is Silvano Brancusi. Tomorrow we’ll play in a theater close by, if you want to, I can get you a ticket.” Bla bla bla… I told her the same ol’ stories.

What really surprised me of Brazil, besides the plants, was Mariana’s butt. I mean, plants like those and a butt like that, I had never seen them before where I came from. But each Country has its own, that’s how it is.

Anyway, Mariana was a singing teacher. She was my age or a bit older, she was mixed race, had a smile with a bunch of straight white teeth, and a small white spot right under her mouth. With regards to her mouth, when I kissed her to say goodbye, she started sucking my lips so hard, I mean so hard, that the next day they were purple. They were dark purple like after a drunk summer night with a good Morellino di Scansano on the beach. Every country has its own, that’s how it is.

“I have to go Mariana. I have rehearsals now, but I’ll finish early, I promise, and we’ll see each other here. See you later!”

Ans so, a kiss here, a kiss there, I arrived late to rehearsals. But it wasn’t my fault damn it!

“Here is Silvano Brancusi who finally honors us with his presence on stage.” Announced immediately the great Peter Frame as soon as he saw me up there.

“Sorry Peter, I went to get some water.”

But those lips were so good, I would’ve loved to leave everyone there for a while and go back to the bar to Mariana.

“Silvano! Have you heard the news?” I heard that small voice of a little girl, I could never forget the soft voice of Elisabeth DeKonigs.

“Hi Elisabeth!... What news?”

“Raymond broke a finger. Poor guy….”

“Yup… it sucks.”

“So, do you know who will replace him?”

“Yes, Sven…”

And in that moment, the great Peter Frame, with his attitude of a cowboy, shouted:

“Brancusi, tomorrow you will replace Raymond. Tonight you’ll stay in the theater with DeKonigs to rehearse. C’mon son, get to work!”

And voilà, the typical luck of Silvano Brancusi. Ah! If only I had gotten your number… goodbye Mariana!