How to have an authentic cultural experience in a foreign country

If you want to have an authentic experience in a foreign country, let me offer you this advice:
*Fly to the country of your choice with only enough money to set up a meager and spartan existence in said country.
*Get a job.
*Make sure your visa is tied to your job.
*Insist on an employer who will illegally hold your passport for six months, so that even in moments of pure desperation you can't go home ;)
You're ready for the cultural experience of a lifetime!
As a bonus, I guarantee that under the above-stated conditions, you will be left saying the word ‘yes’ far more often than god ever intended.
This is how I started out my life in Taiwan. For six months, I kind of felt like I was trapped in that Japanese game show skit with Chris Farley. Except if Chris Farley had been there, it would have been more fun.
(see bottom of this post for Chris Farley goodness)
Anyways, what follows is the story of something that happened to me early on in my Taiwan experience:
It all started one fine afternoon. I was in the teacher’s lounge grading an endless pile of essays. My boss snuck up on me with the stealth of a ninja.
"Cami, you will like to tell a story in the park on Saturday?” he said.

I believe my response was, “Huh?” as I wasn’t entirely sure if it was a question or a statement.
“You would like to tell a story in the park on Saturday,” he said, barely masking his impatience.

“Yes, I think you will like very much. And maybe you sing song too.”
If confusion was apparent on my face, my manager showed no signs of knowing it.
“So yes, I think we will meet at sports park, 10am.”
“Huh?”
“Okay good,” my manager walked away from this baffling exchange, satisfied.
Thus began one of the most confusing and humiliating experiences I’ve had in Taiwan to date.
Because the information provided to me in this conversation was rather lacking, I asked my western manager what exactly I was expected to do on Saturday.
“I think it's like, an event for the children of the community. You just go to a park and read a story. It'll be fun.”
Far be it from me to turn down an 'event for the children'.

I pictured a quaint scene- me and perhaps 10 children, sitting under a tree in a secluded area of the park, reading a book of my choice.
On Saturday morning I showed up at the park around 9:59. Looking around, I spotted my manager. I waved cheerily as he rushed toward me and grabbed my elbow. “Why you are so late?!?” he hissed at me. He's steered me toward a very crowded public square next to the pond. People were enjoying meals at a cafe. Families stood at the waters edge, feeding ducks. Lovers embraced on park benches. All was quiet, except for the pleasant mingling of voices and children's laughter.

I spotted some of the staff from my school near a tree at the center of the crowded square. They were wearing plastic light-up devil horns, as if we were advertising a school of satan.
I tried to assess the situation as calmly as possible:

I fought the undeniable urge to run.
Without a word, one of my co-workers ripped my carefully chosen book out of my hands and replaced it with a HESS Language School story book. My dreams of awakening a passion for good literature in the minds of the children slipped away.

I’d chosen the book “The Little Mouse, the Big Hungry Bear, and the Red Ripe Strawberry” because this is an excellent book for children, regardless of their age or language abilities. I’d poured over it Friday evening, planning which questions I’d ask the children on which pages, where I’d pause, build momentum, etc. Now I was stuck with Hess’s crap book, which basically repeated the same damn sentence over and over again with no story line whatsoever.
But it got worse.
The dreaded public address system gave a shuddering whistle, causing people nearby to wince and cover their ears. That’s right, folks, your peaceful Sunday afternoon shall be no longer…

The other staff member from my school, we'll call her Alisha, grabbed the mic and, with a showmanship that shocked me because I'd previously thought this woman was shy, she began to warble into the microphone with enough enthusiasm to kill a small dog.

People turned to stare.

I expected her to stop speaking, since she’d said enough to introduce the basic concept, an English story in the park, right? But She continued to speak, until everyone near us had dutifully formed a small crowd in front of her. But that wasn't enough for her- her voice, which was already ear-splitting, went up in volume and my manager nodded wisely and turned up the volume on the pa system. People from across the pond turned and began to walk toward us. First the crowd looked like this:
And as my co-worker continued screaming into the microphone, the crowd only grew. In my mind, they should have been running away- the sound was unpleasant and the devil horns certainly didn't bode well, but people just kept gathering.

I wanted to throw myself over my co-worker, wrestle the microphone away from her and throw it in the lake. Like, "SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP! CAN'T YOU TELL THAT NOISE ATTRACTS MORE OF THEM! AND QUIT DANCING AROUND! THEIR VISUAL ACUITY IS BASED ON MOVEMENT!" (Okay, super quiz, who can tell me what movie that last line is from?)
Finally she finished talking and passed the microphone to me, with a look that said, 'There! I warmed them up for you!'
And then it was just me and them.

you've got to understand my shock. Once again, here's what I expected:
And here's what I got:

No sooner had I sat down than the PA system burst forth with the opening notes of "Head, Shoulders Knees and Toes". It's as if the sound waves propelled me out of my chair. I could see my manager out in the crowd, menacing look on his face.

I glanced sideways at my co-workers to see if they'd be dancing with me, but they just backed away, smiling supportively. My mind didn't really have time to catch up with what was going on around me. The song's intro was quickly coming to a close and I knew that soon the words would begin. I had to make a decision now- would I dance? Or would I run?
I woodenly went through the motions of head shoulders knees and toes, like a patient with PTSD.

Just when I thought my humiliation was coming to a close, the opening notes of "Do Your Ears Hang Low" blasted out of the speakers at close range. Thankfully I was blessed with a sort of out of body experience feeling. Maybe it was the trumpet fanfare in this particular version of the song, or maybe it was that the lyrics mentioned a "continental soldier", but I really got into character, marching around like a soldier, swinging my arms as if they were an incredibly long pair of ears. During the interlude I tried to convince some of the children to join me in dancing. But apparently the kids knew that this ship had sunk long before it set sail, because they refused me with pitying looks.

The song ended. I sat down and read the stupid Hess story. The crowd stared politely. I finished and they dispersed.
The bad news is that this was not the last promotion I did for Hess Language Schools. The good news is that there was someone in the crowd that day who offered me a better job.

As promised, the GREAT CHRIS FARLEY!

Everything about that skit is so brilliant =)