That Garlicky Freeness

At 7.55 am (yes, Virginia, there are two seven o’clocks in each day) I am in a coffee shop in Shanghai waiting for the delivery of my drug of choice. The pusher/barista shouts out something I don’t catch and places a paper bucket on the bar.

A woman holding a similar cup approaches and says: "Oops, sorry—that’s mine. I picked up the wrong one." She guiltily puts the one she has been holding back. I pick up mine—the one she’s returned—and take it to office.

I take a sip and spit all over my keyboard. In the 30 seconds she was holding my drink, she has apparently added half a kilo of cinnamon, a slice of ginger and something tangy which smells suspiciously like garlic.

The day gets worse when the boss gives me an impossible assignment. "I want you to write a piece—light, funny but at the same time deadly serious—which proves that the media in Asia, contrary to conventional wisdom, is more free than the media in the West."

"But it isn’t," I object. He waves away this inconvenient obstacle and me. I leave the room with a bad feeling this week is going to stink worse than my coffee.

Tuesday Happily, my fears prove unfounded. Yesterday I sent out a request to my regular contacts asking for examples showing how free the Asian media is. This morning a key piece of evidence arrives in my e-mail inbox: a report from a Manila newspaper about a politician who has been shot to death. The victim "was widely believed to have been corrupt, so perhaps it’s not such a bad thing", a police officer is quoted as saying.

I phone a friend at the New York Times to ask whether he’d be free to print a statement from an official giving the thumbs-up to a murder? "Of course not," he replies. "It would be far too tasteless."

Can’t help thinking about the woman who likes ginger and garlic in her coffee. Talk about tastelessness.

Wednesday A source in Indonesia sends a newsclipping in which a hotel public relations officer in Jakarta, speaking after a guest committed suicide, said: "Please tell the public that if they have to die, they should not do it here. They can use the river for example." Now that’s pragmatic.

I call a friend at the Guardian in London. "Media relations officers in the West just don’t say such insensitive things," she replies. "Although they probably think them."

Decide to slip a bit of ginger root into my coffee just to see what it is like. Quite nice.

Thursday Arrive in New Delhi late in the day on a short visit to interview someone. Ask local contacts for examples of excessive media freedom. They flip through magazines and quickly assemble clippings you’d never see in the West—mostly editorial features promoting products. Tissues which cure baldness and kill the HIV virus. Cough mixture which cures cancer. My favourite is a feature about dried, powdered cowdung, guaranteed holy, and possessed of miraculous healing powers.

Monday Pondering over my assignment on my flight back to Shanghai, I am beginning to realise that in many ways the Asian media is freer than the Western media. Yes, we labour under political and business pressures. But on the other hand, we are entirely free of bounds set by good taste, ethics and the presence of advertising standards authorities.

Tuesday I start to put together a list of unique cuttings from the media in China.

"Wanted: Assistant Merchandiser. Must be neither sex."

"Wanted: Sales executive. Experience essential but not necessary."

"Apartment for sale: Full obstructed seaview."

"Parrots for sale: Bright green expat owner."

Wednesday I am in the boss’ office.

"You’re right," I tell the editor. "The Asian media is freer than the Western media. We are not bound by limits on decency, taste, intelligence or honesty." He’s not sure how to take this. "Hmm," he says. "Is that good?" "You didn’t ask me whether it was good. Just whether it was free."

Thursday The woman who spiked my drink is in the coffee shop. "Why do you put garlic and ginger in your coffee?" I ask.

"Sorry about that. Coffee or tea with garlic and ginger gives you clarity of mind," she says. "I read it in a local magazine. Did it work for you?"

"That’s absurd," I reply. "But I think it did."