March 9, 2004

I am sitting in the airport in Taipei, eating some curious goo. It is brown and beige and stripey, and it has the consistency of very, very dense jello. The saleswoman told me it would taste like “very good cake.” It tastes nothing like cake, but I find it so intriguing that I keep taking little bites to try and figure out whether I like it or not.

Rex, Danielle, and I had a very silly time looking for yummy Taiwanese eats. I nearly purchased a package of salted quail eggs because they looked like tasty gumdrops. Rex got a package of wasabi peas that “go right up your nose.” Danielle, though we tried to persuade her to buy a bottle of “Qoo,” only walked away with some water. She then systematically spit out all of our confections that we made her try, to Rex’s and my delight.

I have never been in a place where I feel so different. I cannot even begin to speak the language. I look nothing like the people. I don’t know what is appropriate (is it OK that I am sitting on the floor in the airport?).

We leave for China in an hour, where we stay for five days before making the long journey back home. I am overwhelmed with the opportunities that we will have in such a short time. I don’t want to sleep at all while I’m here, but this would make for a pretty bad show. We perform our full-length show twice, and we also have a workshop, a school show, and a couple of press stints.

The trip here was uneventful, which is extraordinary, as I was fairly certain that the plane was going to hurtle into the Pacific Ocean. We got little slippers and towels to wash our face. I ate noodles, watched a movie, and slept a whole lot. I began reading Bull Bryson’s A Walk in the Woods. I looked out the window at the stars above and the ocean below.

Next stop: Macau. More on that soon.

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