What can I say about Randers? The people here are very nice, the town itself is good for shopping (if a little on the expensive side) and the beer is piped directly into the local bars via underground pipes from the local brewery. And there are monkeys.

We've been here for three days now. To be honest, I've been so busy with the show that I haven't spent much time in the town itself, but now that the show is up and running, I have a few afternoons to see the sights. Today we visited the tropical rainforest Zoo - three huge, climate-controlled domes which each house free-roaming animals from Asia, South America and Africa (one dome per continent).

It's a very interesting place - although, stepping into the Asia dome was just like being back in Taiwan. (And then to cap it all off we had a Chinese on the way back to the hotel).

The Hotel Randers is the oldest hotel in this, Denmark's 6th largest city (there's a marketing slogan for you). It's very old fashioned as you might expect (strange old mahogany elevator with double doors) but its city centre location makes it ideal for shopping, which, aside from the zoo, is about the most interesting pastime here. The rooms are nice (mine is directly above the front door, two floors up, looking out onto a branch of Jack & Jones which has a pair of jeans in the window I must have) and I have internet access now too, which is helping me feel a little less isolated from the world.

The show has been going brilliantly in Randers - sold out (as is the whole tour in fact) and we have two more shows tomorrow before packing up and moving on to the next stop. Aarhus is further East, so taking us back towards Copenhagan again. It will be my last stop on this tour as I leave the show a week early to fly back to Belfast and get ready for my holiday to the States. Organising a flight has been a nightmare. The festival provided me with an easyjet flight to Stansted from Copenhagan at 10.25 on Friday morning, without actually realising that I would be in Svendborg the night before (the tour's last stop) and that I couldn't actually get to Copenhagan for 10.25 unless I caught three trains and two buses from Svendborg starting from 05.06. Those of you that know me know that there is little chance of me seeing 5.06. Ever.

So I took it upon myself to book a Ryanair flight today from Aarhus to Stansted, where I can pick up my Belfast-bound connection. The problem with that is that I'll have to stay on in Aarhus for a day on my own while the rest of the cast and crew head to Svendborg. Ah well, I'll find something to keep me amused.

Any way, I may partake in my customary glass of wine (or two) this evening to raise a final toast to Randers. We were at a reception with the town mayor last night, and the wine was flowing freely, so I only hope that my stomach can take it tonight. It's medicinal, of course. Helps me sleep. Half of Randers must be doing likewise as it's ghostly quiet here much of the time.

Here I am in Denmark. There's no internet access in the hotel (to be honest, by the look of it, I'm lucky to have my own toilet) so keeping the blog up to date has been impossible.

We arrived in Copenhagan and were brought by coach to Holbaek, where we are staying, before being taken to Ringsted (where we are playing). We've spent the first three days or so on the bus, being ferried from pillar to post. Everything here seems to be exactly 45 minutes away - it's as if the town planners went round with a watch rather than a map.

The shows are going well (standing ovations thus far) so my worries about bringing a Danish story to Denmark were unfounded. The people are all lovely and friendly, although there's not much to see and do in this part of the world. It's not much of a holiday destination.

We went to the reception with the crown princess Mary. We were guided up a red carpet (one of two that we paraded up on our first night here) which was very exciting as the photographers were snapping away, aware that we were important, but not really knowing who we were.

It was a bit like Oscar night - inside the theatre the audience were treated to extracts from the best of the festival shows, but ours, being set on water, was represented by a film clip on a large screen. I felt like cameras were on us as we politely clapped our own work. Bizarre.

Any way, one more day here then we're off on a four hour coach drive to the next stop, Randers. Four hours - the town planners' watches must have stopped when deciding where to put Randers, though I suspect it's 45 minutes from somewhere.

Maybe the next hotel will have internet access and I can upload some pics and keep the blog more up to date.

Thankfully, the food here is good. And we've become very attached to a supermarket chain called Kvicky. Well, you'll agree there's nothing like a Kvicky.

The rain stopped. The thunderclouds parted. The sun shone. Our last two working days in Taiwan went according to plan, and the whole trip has ended with a jolly day out.

Again, because Hsinchu isn't near anything, we hired a large coach to take us all to Wulai - an aboriginal village that is home to a famous 80m waterfall and hot springs (one of the smaller falls is pictured above). It was Georgie's (Princess Daisy's) birthday. We did some more shopping, went on an hilarious, rickety train ride (a real, functioning train that looks like a ride from Disneyland) which took us to the cable cars and, eventually, the top of the waterfall.

Some of the team had decided to stay back at the mock hotel and rest - they texted us as we were at the top of the cliff to say that a ferocious storm had kicked up back in Hsinchu and, not wanting to be stranded by a waterfall or stuck in a cable car, we hurried back down the mountain and opted to get something to eat. We found a local restaurant, run by a 100 year old woman who stands out on the street every day tempting passers-by in. I had rice and chicken - a full meal for me. As philistine as this sounds, it was the nicest meal I had in my whole time in Taiwan mainly because it tasted not dissimilar to the kind of chinese chicken dish one can get at home.

The coach journey back started innocently enough. It was dark outside (it gets dark very early in Taiwan) and our hosts were Young and Emma, two Taiwanese girls who had been with us for most of the trip. Young, who was eating beef noodles which stank out the whole of the coach, informed us in her very broken English that once she had completed her meal she would sing us a song. We thought nothing of this as Young was often bursting into song (Taiwanese of course) and expecting us to join in.

Well, no sooner were the beef noodles dispensed with than a book appeared, some microphones were handed out and TV screens switched on. Our coach was a karaoke bus. That was the end of the 'nice sleep on the trip home'. We were all too knackered to join in, so the girls serenaded us all the way with soft-rock-ballad after soft-rock-ballad. (Soft-rock-ballads are the national pass-time). It was only then that I started to notice that the other coaches we were passing on the motorway also had full-blown karaoke parties in full swing. Nothing about this country surprises me any more.

So it's all over now bar the shouting. We have 10 days at home before we head to Denmark. This is a picture of us in Bangkok airport, with a 12 hour flight ahead of us. Taiwan was great, the show was a huge success and we saw some incredible sights - but at the end of an exhausting 3 weeks, the 12 hour flight seems a small price to pay to get back home. And the first thing I'm doing in Belfast is ordering a Chinese.

It's happened. I've died and I'm now in hell. Hellschu. We've been hit by a typhoon and we're being kept indoors - in our mock hotel.

A few days ago it was all going so well - we had our dress rehearsal for the press and then had the afternoon off. The hosts had planned a day trip for us (seeing as there's nothing nearby to occupy our free time), a trip to a village in the mountains. The village is an old Taiwanese aboriginal site and we bought bizarre gifts to bring home (top prize went to my wooden cock ash tray, an aboriginal fertility symbol I am reliably informed). One shop was full of local insects encased in glass - huge spiders, beetles and, strangely, little sea horses. We gave it a wide berth, but stroked the pig on a chain that was at the front door.

This is one of the stage management team, Colly, with the pig. Colly is on the left.

We had a really interesting trip, which finished with a bite to eat, and then headed back to the mock hotel for some Tiawanese Beer and Smirnoff Ice purchased from 7-11 (or 'home' as I call it). The next morning we all had a lie in and then performed two really good shows - we were all delighted just to be doing something. That night, however, we got the news - the typhoon was coming and the next day's shows were cancelled! Moreover, we were not to leave the hotel.

Cabin fever doesn't cover it. There was a strong wind blowing, dark, dark skies, claps of thunder and flashes of lightning that lit up the sky like bright sunshine. There's no bar in our mock hotel, no restaurant ... there's a communal area full of mismatched sofas next to the reception desk, which became an impromtu poker den for the duration. I don't play poker - but then I don't speak Mandarin and that didn't stop me trying to watch TV as I lay on my hard bed. This must be what prison is like, I thought. A really bad, tropical, foreign prison with very, very bad TV.

The following day the hosts informed us that we could go outdoors if we wanted - they would take us into Hsinchu town. There was a rush for the door. We visited a budhist city temple.

The big man himself.

This is Conleth our lighting designer (and official photographer) and Kylie, chief Mer-Sister. Shortly after this picture was taken we decided to try and get a taxi back to the mock hotel - and then the heavens opened and an impressive thunderstorm got underway. We got absolutley drenched, and as we sat steaming in the taxi, wondering how the driver was able to see out of the soaked windscreen, the sleeves of our waterproofs were full of water and the condensation on the windows hid the view revealed by the lightning.

We have two days left and we think that all of the shows are going ahead. We'll be grateful to be busy. I still can't play poker - though, thanks to the TV, my Mandarin is coming along a treat.

We've waved goodbye to the steamy sophistication of Taipai and now we're here in Hsinchu - a town so surrounded by rain forest that even its name sounds like a full-bodied sneeze.

This week we are situated in a university - Chung Hua University to be precise. It's quite surreal - they appear to have made a clearing in the rainforest and built a university campus here. The pool is very nice and the set looks great - I suspect that the show will go well here. The accommodation is adequate too. The university has a hotel management and catering department, and we are staying in their 'mock' hotel - the rooms they use for training. It's hysterical. The beds are as hard as mortuary slabs and the TV only gets local (Tiawanese) programmes. At least in Taipai (at the beautiful 5 star Imperial Hotel) there was HBO, CNN and BBC World.

The staff at the hotel have offered to clean the rooms mid-week. We have a sneaking suspicion that they'll only 'mock' clean them, ie: stand on the balcony for ten minutes and give the pillows a plump on the way out again. It's all very 2-D here.

The last few nights in Taipai were great - we bought lots of bizarre gifts at the night markets, visited the Taipai Seaworld (with nursing sharks on the 5th floor of a high rise building) and sadly, yes, we karaoke'd. Now, as a musical director and composer I never, ever, ever indulge in karaoke - how on earth can I be scathing and critical of anyone's vocal performance at work if they have heard me screach my way through some awful gay anthem the night before? However, I sucumbed. The shame.

Let me set the scene - the karaoke place was like a 5 star hotel, a huge chandeliered building with many floors tended by beautiful glass elevators. They give you a room with sofas, TV screens, microphones, a stage, a computer and a book of songs. Then they lock you in and ply you with drink. Now, bear in mind that, as a non-red-meat eating ceoliac, I had consumed very little by way of solids for a week. Bear in mind also that alcohol is expensive here and I hadn't had my usual weekly quota. Now imagine an endless stream of Smirnoff Ice. And then a microphone.

The shame. I believe I treated Taipai (or at least my cast) to everything from 'It's Raining Men' (which it clearly wasn't) to 'The Green Green Grass of Home'. I trust you not to tell a soul.

And now here we are in this strange part of the world - a university campus that is mostly closed up (it's not term time after all) a good 40 minute taxi ride from the nearest town. There are a selection of traditional Tiawanese eateries just outside the gates of the uni, but following a quick inspection I think this week's diet shall remain apples, boiled rice and chocolate from 7-11.

At this rate performing the show will be a blessed relief. I wonder if we can squeeze any more performances in?

Looking back over some of the production shots from earlier in the year, I think this is one of Emma's most beautiful images. A rare, gentle moment captured under water during a show that requires such frenetic under water movement. These photos of Emma's are "The Little Mermaid"'s equivalent of back-stage shots, capturing, as they do, actors swimming frantically to their positions before surfacing serenely and effortlessly. These photos tell the true story of what goes on 'under the surface'. It feels like they were taken years ago - it's been about 3 months!

The sell-out shows continue, and we're soon to move to our second city on this two-stop tour of Taiwan.

"The Little Mermaid" has opened in Taipai to a rapturous response. The show is completely sold out here as part of the Taipai International Festival and the crowds can't get enough of it!

The venue is bizarre - we're actually performing in the pool at the Taiwan police force's main head quarters, a kind of Police Academy. The audience arrive at the main gate, wander in past tanks and armoured buses, turn left at the training tower that the 'special' police use to jump off (swinging through the windows on ropes, guns at the ready) and then line up just beside the police car park. And they arrive at least an hour early, standing in the baking heat, umbrellas shading them from the sun.

The city is covered in these large building-size posters advertising the festival - this particular one is at the foot of the T101 building.

Some of the gang on the bus from the airport - they no longer look quite as fresh as this, and this was taken after the 16 hour flight.

So here we are, running in Taipai for a week before we move venue, and city, and head to the north west of the island, to Hsinchu. We've been advised to do all of the sight seeing we need to do before we leave the capital - so I'm assuming that night-markets, karaoke buildings and national museums aren't quite so common on the north-west coast. The weather is reportedly more bearable, though - it's been a stifling 37 and 38 for the last few days.

"Jet lag," read the inflight magazine, "causes lethargy and bad decision making". Great, I thought. I've had jet lag for thirty years.

That aside, it wasn't much of an omen for opening the show in Taiwan - especially when high energy and good decision making are prerequisites. The flight was long and dull (the selection of onflight movies was depressingly bad) although there aren't many days in life when one flies over the city of Belfast (and the dock where Titanic was built), the city of London (with many of the sights on full display in the sunshine), Tibet (with villages easily recognisable due to their height above sea level) with the Himalayas on the horizon, the crowded metropolis of Bangkok, and, eventually, the smoggy capital of Taiwan, Taipai. With two days before "The Little Mermaid" opened I got to see a little of the city.

This is the world's tallest building, Taipai 101, which also contains the world's fastest elevator, travelling at 1010 m per minute. 100-odd floors in 60 seconds.

The view from the top - the sprawling city of Taipai hemmed-in by mountains and capped with a thick layer of ever-present smog.

The Taiwanese National Theatre - traditional on the outside, but bang-up-to-date on the inside. The impressive roof hides a typical fly tower, and the stage raises and lowers on huge hydrolics allowing a full scene change in 30 seconds (we were treated to a back-stage tour by the technical manager).

This is the huge memorial hall built for Chang Kai Chek, one time dictator of Taiwan. Possibly the most ostentatious memorial hall ever built. Highlights of the display inside include two of the man's cars, heavily-doctored photos (see Winston Churchill with a full head of white hair!) and a recreation of his living room (yawn). The walking tour begins with the lines, "He was an ordinary man ...". Graceland this is not.

Giving thanks at Longshan Temple - a multi-denominational temple where we said prayers and left gifts for seven gods, who, hopefully, will look after us when the show opens. Not sure which one was the god of theatrical endeavours, but we paid particular attention to Matsu, goddess of the sea, whom we trust has a soft spot for mermaids.