...is you can't always count on acoustics.

I have arrived in Belfast!

Until Monday, Hector, Allegra and I are free. We hope to network with other community groups—and quickly—to supplement the small group of young boys we met yesterday. Uri will join us tomorrow, and already I have dreams for the echo-y theatre space we’ll be working in on Monday:

The 174 Trust is a converted 19^th-century Protestant church—stained glass windows and vaulted, wood ceilings. It now houses a myriad of social outreach programs. Seniors dance traditional Irish dances in the main hall once a week, special needs children are entertained, after-school programs float in and out. The acoustics are challenging--it sounds more like a gymnasium than a theatre space--but the energy in the building is rich. There are lots of spirits hanging about.

Razor wire spirals about the brick walls that circle the building, at odds with the period architecture, "for insurance purposes." Across the street, a tiny girl in pigtails squeaks around the corner on a plastic bike. Clouds hang low above the terraced houses.

I can't wait to begin the work.

...is it sets you FREE!

Hi all.

As promised, here are some clips from my performance, Free!

Enjoy!

...is it's sweet.

“Excuse me, can I ask your opinion on something?”

The man behind the counter lifts his sleepy eyes.

“So.” Big exhalation. “Is there really a difference, noticeably, between 750 gig’s and a terabyte? Other than ten dollars?”

These are the kind of conversations I have in Best Buy.

At the register, a friendly man in a blue polo totals my purchase: external hard drive, digital voice recorder, SD memory card. $196. My blood vessels stiffen and I swipe my card.

I spent the drive home from Best Buy reminding myself that these kind of things cost money, and that in the grand scheme of things, $200’s a good price for the ability to archive my experience. Still, I can't stop thinking of overpriced airport food, the dismal exchange rate, exorbitant cab fares...

Three hours later, I’m not thinking of those things. My mind erases and my eyes flood.

“Sorry for the amount,” Ma’moun says. “I hope it will help.”

I am staring at a check. It is from the Baton Rouge Bienville House Center for Peace and Justice. Pay to the amount of Two Hundred and 00/100 dollars, it says.

Ma’moun doesn't see my disbelief. He shuffles behind me in the kitchen, fixing dessert.

“I changed the recipe, so it will be different than last time. More cornstarch.” I twist around in my chair and watch Ma'moun drizzle sugar syrup with a spoon. He is an older man, quiet and precise.

“Ma’moun,” I say. He looks up from the counter, mid-drizzle. “This is incredible.” I wave the check like a flag. “Thank you.”

“It is not much, but I am glad if it will help.”

“It already has.” I describe my purchase at Best Buy, and Ma’moun smiles.

“That’s good, good.” He slides a saucer towards me across the tablecloth. Ashtaliyeh—a gelatinous white dessert topped with sugar-syrup and pistachios.

“Thank you.” I grab a spoon.

“Too much cornstarch this time. Next time I will do somewhere in the middle.”

I scoop a spoonful into my mouth: smooth, cold and sweet. I taste the orange blossom water like a breath of gardenias.

"Tastes perfect to me.”

...is you never fly alone.

WELCOME

Thank you for expressing interest in my upcoming theatre work abroad--first in Belfast, Northern Ireland, then Jenin, Palestine. If you're reading this blog, you can anticipate receiving regular updates from me as I travel.

THANK YOU

About forty-eight hours ago I swung the door open to room 166  to perform Free! My final fundraising event, the show encompassed forty minutes of spoken word poetry, aerial silks acrobatics, and some homespun music on an electric keyboard. Thanks to the generosity of my audience, I raised more than $250 in donations, and had a blast performing. I will share clips from it later this week!

 

Photos: Minjie Li

A WEEK TO WAIT

In seven days I'll be airborne, halfway to Detroit and a quarter of the way to Belfast. Maybe I'll sketch ideas for creative writing workshops, or chat with my neighbor about the in-flight movies, or sniff tears for the last four months I've spent clawing my way into this plane. I will think of the people who've stopped me on the street this summer, placed a hand on my shoulder and pulled a twenty out of their wallets:

"Good luck."
"Be safe."
"Let's get coffee before you leave, alright?"

I am buoyed by your love and support. Thanks for flying with me!