CEDRIC'S BUSINESS SCHOOL

NOTES FROM TAIWAN #11

CEDRIC'S BUSINESS SCHOOL

June 10th, 2008

I grew up, as I'm sure I've mentioned before, in the untamed back-country of Montana. I was reared by a pack of wolves until I was twelve, at which point I fought and defeated their alpha male, claiming pack dominance. We lived happy lives, my wolf children and I, for many years, prowling under those big mountain skies. I have wrestled bears, slain mountain lions, and survived -30 degree nights in nothing but a loincloth. I have lived for years on nothing but tree bark and squirrel meat. I am a mountain man.

At least that's the general picture people get when I tell them where I'm from. In reality, my origin state is a charming, quite place, home to friendly people, simple lives, and the most star-filled night skies you've ever seen. And actual air. My god, I've forgotten what breathing air is like.

Upon arriving in LA three years ago, my lungs had no choice but to forge themselves into iron-clad steam engines capable of drawing oxygen from even the most smog-filled breaths. Within several weeks, my body had trained itself to thrive in the harsh, polluted, Venus-like atmosphere of good ole South Central. I had become a battle ax.

But only after living in Taipei have I known what it is like to really become a creature of cockroach-like fortitude. The air is a little hard to breath, to say the least. It's still taking some getting used to. Every hot, humid breath is like standing over a boiling pot of water and taking a big whiff. I've never lived for an extended period of time in a really humid place. I feel like gills might be more useful than lungs at this point.

Lack of breathing ability aside, life in Taiwan continues to be magical, beautiful, heavenly, in my second week. I checked the numbers of my lottery ticket in the paper today (no dice), and headed to work, where I have been getting slammed like a skinny white guy in prison. I arrived at my internship a week ago thinking that I would do a few tasks for the company, maybe learn a few things, and get lots of facebook/blogging time in. No sir (as you can see by the fact that I've been writing about things OVER A MONTH LATER AHHHHH!!!). I have assumed the workload of a full time employee, and I don't exactly know what I'm doing. From editing every piece of English documentation the company produces to working on the event video to managing the company's emails to producing event budgets and schedules to anything else Cedric asks me to do, I have been a busy busy boy. I have definitely been learning a lot, and I regularly get some pretty helpful lessons from Cedric about small business management and event coordination and the like. I choose to call my company not by it's actual name of Infine Art & Culture Exchange, but rather a more appropriate title: Cedric's Business School. Every chance he gets, Cedric loves to talk to me (and the two girls) about anything related to the business.

Today I received another task. I'm not sure how this happened, but I think Cedric is under the impression that I am a full fledged graphic designer and animator. I did put that I was moderately experienced in Adobe Illustrator and Photoshop, but I don't think I ever professed to be a designer. Our conversation at the meeting went a little like this:

CEDRIC:

"Okay everybody, for the logo design, Jeffrey will be in charge, since he is a design and animation major, right Jeffrey?"

JEFFREY:

"Uhhh, well not exactly..."

CEDRIC:

"Okay, great! So let me know when you have the first draft done!"

Somehow I, with practically no graphic design experience, had been tasked with designing the logo for the 2008 Taiwan European Film Festival which our company coordinates. Granted it's not the biggest film festival in the world, but with thousands of attendees last year, not to mention the festival being a representation for European culture to the Taiwanese audience, I was a little intimidated. So I sat down and started sketching ideas. The logo had to contain:

1) the text "2008 Taiwan European film festival" in both English and Chinese

2) an image that contained representations of a lighthouse, a film roll, and the stars of the European union in an image that conveyed European film and culture

3) the logo had convey all of the above in a 1" X 2" square and be readable from 15 feet away

Right.

So I spent the rest of the day drawing, quickly realizing that my minimal drawing talent had been reduced to practically nil in my 7 year hiatus from drawing. My lighthouse/film-roll depictions instead looked like giant phallic monstrosities that seemed more at home in a sex toy catalogue than on the poster advertising a film festival. I left the office a little disheartened, but happy by the fact that I had spent a whole day of work drawing doodles. I felt like a kid again.

Several times on the bus ride home, I saw on several adults get up out of their seats to let the boarding elderly folk sit down. It seems like such an obvious thing to do, but I rarely see such respect for elders in the states. No words, no "Thank you" or "You're Welcomes" were exchanged. They just did without needing to be thanked, because that's what everyone does here. I really admire a culture that treats its elderly with respect , instead of dealing with them by marginalizing them. Even teenagers, with a "fuck you world" expression permanently plastered on their faces, will offer their seat without a moment's hesitation. It is amazing to see this kindness and respect in all members of Taiwanese society. More importantly, it is amazing that the people treat each other with a kindness that is unrewarded and unheralded. That is, they don't need to be thanked, admired, or appreciated in order to do something nice for someone. They just do it.

Since the USC girls had dinner with their offices this night, the men grabbed dinner at a nearby buffet and contemplated spending the rest of the night at Hooters (not even the East is safe from that delightfully tacky yet unrefined American contribution to world culture) as part of our cultural exploration of Taiwan. After learning how expensive it was, we decided otherwise, and spent an uneventful night at the hotel. Maybe next time.

"I TEACH ENGLISH AND DRINK BEER"

NOTES FROM TAIWAN #10

"I TEACH ENGLISH AND DRINK BEER"

June 9th, 2008

Week two got off to a little slower start than the first, considering that I had been putting a little too much wear and tear on my body recently. It seemed as though my one week of waking up alert, refreshed, and cheery wouldn't be continuing any longer. I was back to my old sunshine and smiles morning mood.

I also spent a good deal of time today doing the type of intern work I had thought I'd be doing: bitch work. Spending the entire day stuffing envelopes gives one a great deal of time to think about the things that really matter, like the meaning of life, what kind of man I want to be, and ice cream. I concluded about the former three: 42, happy, and mmmm...

I also purchased my first Taiwanese lottery ticket with the help of my coworker Melody. Just the thought of a white kid from Montana winning the Taiwanese lottery of 500,000,000 NT (that's a cool $17 mil, people) made me smile. But the highlight of the day was, without a doubt the epic thunderstorm. I personally loooooooooooove thunderstorms, and living in LA doesn't provide much of an opportunity to enjoy a truly great one. Way back in my younger years in Montana, though, gave little Jeffrey a few good ones. Though rain would come very rarely, when it did, oh boy...

Today, in the early afternoon hours, the thunder started, lightning flashed, and it rained so hard that Noah would be pissing his pants. I thought it had rained hard yesterday, but it had nothing on this. Looking out the window was practically like looking through an aquarium there was so much water falling down. And the thunder literally shook the walls. It was bone chilling, eardrum shattering thunder. And the lightning stuck so fiercely that the office would flash as if there was a strobe light on in the corner. I took a long stretch of time during this storm to stop my envelope-stuffing and enjoy the aquatic pummeling Taipei was receiving.

But then the power went out, and Cedric, becoming extremely worried about a power surge deleting all the data on our computers, sent me on a mission to buy some protection (of the technological variety. get your mind out of the gutter). So, while the rest of the city's inhabitants had made their way to safe haven from nature's fury, I disposed of any electronic devices on my person, made sure my umbrella was locked and loaded, and stepped outside.

I really don't think it would have been possible for my flimsy umbrella to be any more useless. I would have stayed dryer without it, as it seemed to become a magnet for the rain, drawing every drop onto me. You ever see that David Copperfield magic trick where he stands inside a vortex of fire? It felt like that, but with water. I saw more than a few people, nestled inside their dry offices, point and laugh as I swam my way to the mall.

After fruitlessly trying to explain the technological specifications of the Uninterruptable Power Supply I was seeking in a language I didn't understand to the store clerk, I returned to base and informed Cedric that he would be taking care of this one himself. I spent the rest of the day trying to remember what it was like to be dry, as I was now only a little wetter than I had been for the past week which I had spent dripping in sweat.

This night took us to the Shida Road Night Market. While not the concentrated cluster f*** that is Shilin Night Market, Shida provided enough tasty food, interesting trinkets, and hilariously misspelled printed t-shirts to make the trip worthwhile. Afterwords we stopped at a drink and dessert place, where several of us made the unfortunate mistake of ordering rice pudding. It would seem that the pudding in this rice pudding dish was actually congealed pig's blood, and while the taste was not entirely disgusting, the thought of consuming coagulated swine blood wasn't exactly my idea of a tasty night cap. When asked why they had given us this dish instead of actual rice pudding, the waiter responded, "We Googled it." Damn you, Google, look what hell you have wrought (apparently, though, rice pudding here is normally served this way, so we have only our ignorant American minds to blame, not the most popular search engine on the planet. Go figure).

Everyone else had grown tired by our return to the hotel, so only Ben, Cyndy, and myself attended this evening's Beer in the Park, where we received quite a treat. There, sitting at a table in the middle of a park in Taipei, Taiwan, were two white guys chugging down which was certainly not their first beer of the evening. Upon seeing us approach, one of them called us over to have a little chat. We met Matthew and Tim. Tim, the louder and certainly more drunker of the two, introduced himself in a thick Australian accent as he took gargantuan drags from his cigarette, swigged his Taiwan Beer, and smiled at us from behind a very very very drunk eyes (they were practically closed). When I asked Tim what he did, he looked at me with those red, watery drunk eyes, smiled, and said:

"I teach English and drink beer."

An honest man. I like that.

Matthew, on the other hand, was the definition of a prim and proper British fellow, and when he first spoke to me, I couldn't understand him. It took me a moment to realize what language he was speaking: English. As in the most perfect English I have ever heard in my life. Every word was perfectly pronounced in the most aurally pleasing modulation you can imagine, and this man's use of vocabulary would bring tears to Merriam and Webster's eyes.

After our introduction began a series of exchanges which where very hard not to laugh through, as Ben, Cyndy, and I struggled to maintain our composure as a belligerent Tim ranted and raved about his life in Taiwan as Matthew, holding perfect posture, smiled on. Apparently Matthew was married to a Taiwanese women in Taiwan, and he and Tim would unwind after a day of teaching English by going to a park and having a beer, much like we had been doing. Tim continued:

"So are ya single?"

"Uh..."

"Let me put it this way: do ya like garls?"

*swig of beer*

"Uh, yeah, sure."

"Then ya'll love Taiwan! HAHAHA!"

*another swig of beer*

Tim then detailed every bar and pub in Taipei, and which ones were good and which ones weren't ("Nah, ya don't wanna go thare! The women there are old and crazy, let me tell ya!"). The only time he stopped talking was when he got up, walked ten feet, unzipped his pants, and peed in the bushes. Keep in mind this park is right in the middle of a city block surrounded on all sides by streets, with cars and mopeds passing regularly. But I guess when nature calls...

To call these two the Odd Couple would be a very gross understatement. I just can't imagine how they found each other, or why Matthew would choose to associate with such a crass drunkard, and why Tim would choose to associate with such a... Brit. Maybe they were starved for some fellow foreigner. Or maybe despite their differences, they really were just good friends. Either way, they were both magical people in their own regards.

Before letting us leave, Tim had to gush a little more about teaching English in Taiwan. Apparently he was pulling down 500 NT an hour. He works only a few hours a night, which allows him to "Drink awl naught, sleep awl day, wake up, get drunk agahn, and go ta wahrk." He explained that he would go to work drunk quite often, and that he would have to leave class to pee every hour, telling his students, "Sit taught, kids. Gotta take a piss!" Or how on really stressful days he would step outside the school, shotgun a beer (excuse me, I mean "beahr"), and go back to class.

I couldn't help but wonder how this man, an alcoholic Australian who doesn't speak any Chinese, could come to Taiwan and make more money than many people who have had 20 year careers here. Apparently, the need for English teachers here in Taiwan is so great that they'll take anyone, even if you're reek of beer and pronounce most English words in an accent so thick it almost sounds like another language. You don't even need to speak Chinese. They want their students to be exposed to English completely during the class, so speaking Chinese isn't allowed. I'm terrified to think what kind of English those poor children will be speaking after taking the Australian's class.

Speaking English is probably the best asset one can have when seeking a job in Taiwan. Many people study English here, but very few have a chance to practice it enough (as in speak with native English speakers) to become fluent in it. So being a native speaker opens so many doors, regardless of educational background. I really had never realized what an asset speaking multiple languages can be. After my experiences here, and seeing how highly valued it is, I'm sure that being bilingual (or trilingual or quad-lingual etc) is the most valuable asset one could have, more so than any number of years of career experience. English being the most significant and sought after.

Prior to arriving in Taiwan, I had seriously considered living and working in a country other than the U.S. I personally consider traveling to other places and living in other countries to be the best thing a person can do to grow. But since arriving in Taiwan, that consideration has become a certainty. And after hearing about how easy it would be to get a well paying job, the prospects look very bright. Seriously, if this guy can do it, I would hope I would be able to.

We left these two legends to their bottles of Taiwan Beer and retired for the night. I don't know what series of consequences allows me to meet these kind of people, but I must say I wouldn't have it any other way.

THE BURN

NOTES FROM TAIWAN #9

THE BURN

June 8th, 2008

An immeasurable amount of walking, unforgettable sights and experiences (particularly the past two nights), and countless Beers in the Park. All in 8 days. With the rise of the sun on this Sunday morning began a stage which I like to affectionately call THE BURN.

The past week had rejuvenated me in such a way as I have never felt before. The instant feeling of home and belonging that greeted me as I stepped of the plane was shocking, and very welcome. The wide-eyed excitement and indescribable joy I immediately felt had kept me going through miles of trekking, little to no sleep, and stomach-testing cuisine for eight days. It had amazing combated the immune-system threats ofTaipeis swampy, smoggy air and my hotel rooms questionable cleanliness (why does the bathroom smell like rotting corpses in the morning? and those stains on the comforter couldn't have come from anything good). It had prevented me from going blind after staring at a computer screen for 50+ hours. But it couldn't last forever. There is only so much the human body can endure.

This morning, I awoke feeling something I hadn't felt for a week: tired. From this day on it would be a feeling that would haunt me throughout the day. But as I stood (swaying) staring at myself in the mirror, eyes a bright shade of red, shrinking body frame, I realized there was a choice: collapse under the exhaustion and cede defeat, deciding to call it quites at a reasonable hour of the evening in favor of getting a good nights sleep. Or crank it up to 11 and keep truckin'. I chose the latter. As I always say, I'll sleep when I'm dead.

Today's journey entailed a trip to Danshui, a small seaside town north of Taipei which harbors countess food vendors selling delicious food and troves of carnival games along the boardwalk, several packed streets of even more food vendors and shop wares, and Condom World (which offers some very silly shaped paraphernalia). The red MRT line took us straight there, and upon stepping into the sea-side sun, I realized wearing jeans today may have just been the worst decision I have ever made in my life. At that moment I would have gladly sacrificed my manhood for a pair of shorts.

We had decided upon a trip to Danshui today in hopes of catching some Dragonboat races. This weekend was the Dragonboat festival, an event where dozens upon dozens of dragon boats (similar to crew) race as part of this annual tradition. I must say I think that these stocky 5 foot tall Taiwanese dragonboaters could hold their own against the best of USC's gargantuan women's crew team. And that's saying something: I was at a party once where they had had a little bit to drink, and I was sure one of them was going to pick me up and break me in half.

 

It would seem that we were misinformed, though, and the dragonboat races were in fact taking place elsewhere. So we made haste to the actual location of the races (which escapes me at the moment) and perused the sights there. Every other tourist in Taiwan must've had the same idea as us, because I hadn't seen so many whiteys since departing the U.S. Dozens upon dozens of pale, overweight foreigners wearing cargo khaki shorts and unbuttoned short sleeves shirts wandered the waterfront and watched the races (seriously people, the fanny-pack is a little bit overkill. On behalf of the rest of the Western world, I respectfully decline your offer to make us all seem lame).

As we were watching the races, deafening applause erupted behind us. With no dancing stage in sight, we knew that this time it wasn't us. The champion team was actually taking their victory lap past us. A little later, some of the women-folk in our group asked a few of the particularly handsome boaters for a picture with them. Within seconds, a dozen other eager, excited, half-naked Taiwanese boaters had rushed over to surround the women and pose for the picture. Oh the things one could accomplish here with just blonde hair and boobs.

After wandering a little longer, the clouds above opened their floodgates and down came a torrential rain. Huddling under the tarps of food vendors (which, by the way, could put any American hot dog to shame), we realized that the rain wasn't stopping anytime soon. So we whipped out the umbrellas, which did little to hold back the gallons of water, and made haste to a cab which would return us to base camp.

Some of us decided to stay behind, while others wanted to explore some site in the city, which was now no longer under siege by water). Whipping out the trusty Lonely Planet guidebook, which we had been basing most of our cultural activities on thus far, we browsed the pages, searching for some point of interest. The words "Miniature Museum" stuck out among the small type, and upon reading LP's glowing review of this attraction, we knew we absolutely had to see it. Cool, a place where everything's tiny! Model cars the size of dimes?! Awesome! Entire townships constructed on a bottle cap?! No way! The entire Bible written on a grain of rice?! OMFG!!!

MISTAKE.

Finding the museum was a little difficult, seeing as Lonely Planet had decided to erase an entire section of the city on the map. Apparently at the publishing of the guidebook, these several city blocks had not been constructed. Only recently had someone literally pushed half of the city of Taipei to the west, built several streets and populated them with buildings, and neglected to tell anyone. Don't worry Lonely Planet. It happens all the time.

So when we finally did find this place, we were a little surprised by what waited for us there. Apparently when the book used the word "miniatures", they meant dolls. The females had known this all along, but us men, Ben, Craig and myself, had lost any sense of logic in our boyish excitement to see really tiny shit, and neglected to consider what "miniatures" really meant. After seeing just one doll house, I felt that I had had enough of this cultural experience. We left shortly thereafter.

Not wanting to forfeit the entire afternoon to stupidity, we stopped at the Jade and Flower Market near Daan. A big shopping attraction, this market takes up several blocks under the freeway. Though mostly random stuff that doesn't interest a non-shopper like me much, the market was interesting, and the cool, misted flower tent provided a pleasant haven from the always unrelenting heat. After hanging out in Daan Park for a little while, we returned home.

Our group decided to trust Lonely Planet one more time and have dinner at a famous ostrich meat restaurant. Apparently this place serves just about every part of the bird in delicious dishes. I never had much of an affection for these prehistoric monstrosities, so the thought of eating them sounded good. Unfortunately we neglected to consider that it might be closed on a Sunday night, so one hour later we found ourselves standing outside the closed eatery.

Still famished, we chose to ate at a place nearby. Outside the restaurant sat dozens of aquariums housing every type of seafood known to man. To order, no menus were necessary. Just point at whatever sea creature looks at you the wrong way, and 15 minutes later you're chowing down on its corpse. My eel (which had already been killed when I ordered) was... interesting tasting. When we stopped at the 7/11 later for our beers for BITP, I needed to grab a little snack.

To say I dreaded going back to work in less than 8 hours was an understatement. Though I didn't hate my job, this city just had so much to offer that spending anytime stuck in front of a computer instead of exploring was a little bit unappealing. Oh well. Ya gotta put the kids through school somehow.

PROM

NOTES FROM TAIWAN #9

JUNE 8th, 2008
PROM

So there I was, lying on the floor of my hotel room, curled underneath a chair, and feeling as if I had been chucked in front of a train, obliterated, and then reassembled by a drunken monkey. The previous night had had its way with me, to say the least.

I pulled myself out of the dignity-destroying position I had found myself in and crawled onto the bed. During this endeavor, I feel that I experienced a living rigor mortis, as my joints and muscles had turned to jelly. After an excruciating climb, I placed myself into bed, pulled up the blanket and went back to sleep, still just as drunk as when I had passed out some hours before.

I was awakened later by my room phone. Clearing my throat as best I could, so as to sound like I had been making the most of my day so far, I answered and found Ben on the other line. After ensuring that I was in fact still alive after opting to blaze my own trail last night, he asked if I wanted to get something to eat. Knowing that the hotel we were staying at served breakfast from 7:30 to 9:00, I inquired as to whether we had missed it or not. After chuckling to himself, been informed me that it was currently 12:30pm. No no no, I wasn’t hungover at all.

A few of us USC people gathered in the lobby downstairs in what we had come to call the confessional room. Complete with a couch and curtain, this had become the surrogate therapy room for our Real World Taipei family. I would have to find some other day to profess my hatred for my roommates and cry in front of the camera, as our tired and hungover bodies needed nourishment.

Knowing there was only one thing that could make me right with the world again, I made a beeline for the fried chicken that we had sampled on our first day in Taipei. As I ate the delicious fried morsels of goodness, I felt my hangover melt away. And after a liter of silky smooth milk tea from our 7/11, I was ready for round two.

Today was the day that Chris, one of our NTU friends would be graduating. So we hopped on a bus and made our way to the NTU campus. Walking through the grounds past the brick buildings, dorms, and lecture halls, I felt echoes of USC (minus the countless douchebags that USC has amassed in its many years). We passed by throngs of happy families taking graduation pictures. I had thought I knew the definition of adorable after seeing all of the tiny Taiwanese babies stumbling around the grass on campus. But they have nothing on the indescribable cuteness of the Taiwanese grandparents that had congregated on the NTU campus that day. Big smiles permanently etched on their faces as their grandchildren took pictures of them wearing graduation caps, happy to have their family together to celebrate this big day. I was tempted to grab a few and take them home with me, as just being around them made me a happy man. If there’s one thing I want to be when I get old, it’s to be as happy and content as these elders looked.

Chris received his diploma, which we missed seeing, as the NTU graduation was more of a mass of people huddled around a few stairs as degrees were dolled out as if they were coming from a pitching machine (apparently the big formal ceremony had taken place in the morning). As we left, a few stares were thrown our way, understandable considering how out of place we were.

But that out of place had nothing on what would happen next. See, the NTU graduation day was to be capped of with a prom. And yes, when I say prom, I mean formal dance. And Chris had (possibly unwisely) invited his new wild American friends to attend. So we showed up outside of the NTU arena, dressed in club-appropriate clothing (I had chosen to douche it up this night, wearing my favorite black button down, sans a few of the top buttons). Everyone else, all several hundred other Taiwanese prom attendees, was dressed in their sharpest, slickest formal clothing. I’m talking suits, tuxes, dresses, jewelry, makeup, the whole shebang. I though my senior year prom in high school was awkward. Oh no, not like this.

After waiting outside for a while, we were allowed entrance into the foggy, dimly lit arena. The dance floor was left completely vacant as prommers got food and sat on the surrounding benches. Unsuccessful at finding the rumored free booze, we sat down to munch on some rice cakes and pudding, awaiting whatever would happen next.

And then, from the gigantic black speakers that adorned the walls, a grand symphony sounded. It was as if the troops were being summoned to battle. Epic is a good word to describe this sound, which had shattered the awkward silence in the arena and replaced it with a sweeping score right out of Gladiator. I stood up, scanning the room, straining to see what had prompted such a symphonic explosion. And then I saw it: in a circular carriage right out of Cinderella, sat a woman and a boy waving to the adoring crowd, as they were pulled across the dance floor by a man in a bicycle at a speed that just barely exceeded an idle. Roused by the call to arms blasting over the speakers, the pleased crowd applauded, as the battle chariot made its slow way across the dance floor. I could never describe how random this was. When I first heard the epic music, I had expected to turn around see armed gladiators hacking each other to pieces as asteroids cascaded down around them and giant robots break danced in the background. Instead there was a bicycle drawn Cinderella carriage. This must be what taking acid is like.

After the several minutes it took them to cross the floor, they ascended the stage and roused the crowd into an excited fervor. I don’t know what they said, but they got the kids ready to dance. Then, after the hosts said what must have been Chinese for “DJ, spin that shit!” the music started. Except instead of the hip hop and dance music that you would expect to find at a dance of twenty-somethings, the musack for the evening was something more at home at a sock hop, mixed with a little early 90s Top 40. The classics, such as Chubby Checker’s “Let’s Twist Again”, Ritchie Valens’s “La Bamba”, and Chuck Berry’s “Johnny B. Goode” followed such infectious pop hits as the Matchbox 20’s pairing with Santana “Smooth”, sung of course by the hosts in broken English. This eclectic mix would be interrupted by Chinese power ballads, where a dozen men of the most flamboyant nature would line up at the front of the dance floor and display an impressive coordinated salsa routine. Flamboyant times 100 is more like it. You think you’ve seen salsa? Just wait until you see what these effeminate Taiwanese men can do with it. Seriously, they did things with their hips that I didn’t think possible by the human body, male or female. Their pressed dress shirts hung open, exposing their hairless chests as their legs moved in a shocking display of candor and “grace”. It seems that in Taiwan, salsa has been sprinkled with a little something extra, stripped of any heterosexual implications, and dressed up in black pleather pants.

Though it was initially a little hard to get into music at first, eventually we were all on the dance floor for the second night in a row. And just like the previous night, we amassed a crowd of Taiwanese fans. They would stare in wonder at the way we dance, and then would try to imitate it themselves. We pulled as many of them into our circle as we could and gave them a lesson in American dance. It was a funny situation, being at a prom in Taipei, Taiwan, dancing with dozens of Taiwanese students to songs my parents might have danced to at their proms decades ago. These things just have a way of happening to us here.

When our dance circle, located at the front of the room right by the stage, would grow a little too big for certain people’s liking, the flamboyant salsa dancers would cut right through the heart of our group with a savage strut and swing of the hips. Our group was broken up into smaller fragments, left only to giggle at the exuberance of the dancers. We had crossed into their turf, dangerous territory. They had to keep our undignified dancing in check with their suave and grace. With a flip of some perfectly jelled hair, we new that we needed to watch ourselves. It was like West Side Story 2: East Meets West. Taiwanese Salsa vs. American Bump ‘n Grind. David vs. Goliath. Bloods vs. Cripps. Kanye vs. 50 Cent. An epic battle of song and dance was waged that night.

After a few hours of dancing, someone in our group started The Worm, or as I like to call it, The Gravy Train. Hands placed on shoulders, kicking right or left every third step, we started weaving through the crowd. Though initially left shocked by such a sight, the Taiwanese students, one by one, joined. After just a few short minutes, our train had amassed most of the patrons at the dance. The Worm got so large that it weaved back onto itself, and I could see the students laughing hysterically as we jumped around the arena (I don’t think anyone had ever initiated them into this magical dance ritual). The spotlight in the back of the auditorium was pointed right at us, and I looked up to see us displayed on the two jumbo screens in the front of the room. I don’t think they’ll be forgetting us anytime soon.

Eventually the Train got so big that it collided into itself and disintegrated leaving hundreds of sweaty, giggling Taiwanese and a few sweaty, giggling Americans. Needless to say, this would have been a good note to end the night on, but there was more. A few songs later, the music stopped and the crowd directed its attention to the stage. There the announcer said some things in Chinese, and then spotted us standing on the floor. She asked Ben, the tallest of us, if he was an NTU student. Well of course he was, so he was brought up onto stage to demonstrate the Bunny Hop, a tradition at NTU. (just imagine the Can-Can for people who can’t bend their knees). But Ben needed some backup dancers, so the hostess called Helen and myself to the stage. I don’t know why out of all the NTU graduates the three of us were chosen to perform the schools signature dance at their graduation prom. They cued the music, we lined up, and hopped the Bunny Hop. I looked out onto the crowd and realized for the second time this weekend, were dancing on stage in front of hundreds of young Taiwanese.

Following our lead, every single person in the crowd joined together for this ritual. By the end of the song, which sped up as it went along, everyone was hopping around in a rabid fervor, which looked a little funny to say the least. With a round of applause, we exited the stage, still unable to comprehend how we had managed to do what we did two nights in a row. Sweaty and tired we left the prom, satisfied with another night of dancing.

On our way out, Craig and I got our picture taken with a Taiwanese celebrity (I have no idea what she was in). Looking at the picture later, we couldn’t help but laugh, as the poor girl was sandwiched between the two of us (gross with sweat) with a look of panic, uneasiness, and creeped out on her face. We know how to charm them.

As we walked out into the pouring rain, we stumbled across one of the holiest grails known to man: free beer. Corona at that. Cases and cases of the stuff were stacked up behind a counter, and the bartenders would hand out bottles to anyone pining for a drink. Most people would take a bottle or two, maybe a six-pack if they were with a big group. But we, having never seen such a beautiful bounty in our lives, managed to acquire a couple six packs each. We found some steps to sit down on, and proceeded to enjoy. For some reason, beer just tastes better when it’s free.

We covered an entire flight of stairs in empty bottles and six-pack cartons. Though our bodies had had their fill our bags had not. So we made another stop at El Dorado, and took as much as we could before the bartenders realized that they were dealing with livers of oxen, and told us to leave. Our bags were stuffed to maximum capacity, and we boarded our bus home, clinking at every step. I think it was pretty obvious to everyone else on the bus that it wasn’t sets of china in our bags that were making those sounds.

This weekend (still only half over) had been a good one. Several fridges full of free Corona, two nights of dancing onstage in front of masses of people, and one very interesting cab later, my first full week in Taiwan had concluded. And there were still seven more.