Disturbing

In j-school classes I learned that American media outlets are more conservative about airing or printing images of blood and guts than many, perhaps most, countries. Some criticize American media culture for its image censorship, especially when it comes to war and international conflict.

In contrast, the violent story I saw in a local paper today seemed like the basest appeal to morbid curiosity I've ever seen on a front page.

James I were waiting for our breakfast at the little restaurant across from our building. There was a Chinese newspaper on our table and the biggest frontpage story was about the California man who massacred his ex-wife's family. Next to the article there was a big illustration of the murder scene - including a sketch of the guy shooting a little girl in the face.

Civilians aren't allowed guns in Taiwan, and since it took place in the U.S., I guess maybe that makes the whole thing less real for a local audience. But I was appalled.

About a month ago I was watching a TV story about a fatal car accident in Taipei. The reporter got into the passenger side of a car (same make as the crashed car) in order to demonstrate how an unbelted 8-year-old met his death through the windshield.

Both the newspaper article today and the TV story struck me as gratuitous and grotesque. It almost makes me embarrassed to write about them now. But it's so different from what's considered acceptable back home, I thought I'd share.

Water Shock

I don't understand how people in Taiwan aren't constantly collapsing with dehydration. There isn't enough water anywhere we go, especially in consideration of how hot it is.

Back home we pay lip service to concern for the prominence of fast food and the staggering 30 hours of TV watched per week by the average American. But dehydration? That's the kiss of death. We don't sit for that. Not drinking water is bad. All other health considerations pale next to this American adage.

And I come from the zenith of water-swigging families. My dad drinks 8 bottles of water a day. Before the five of us go anywhere together, we puzzle over how many water bottles to pack in the car. If I pick my brothers up from town to take them home, a 20-minute drive, and I don't have any water - they cry child abuse.

Here no one drinks ice water. They think it's bad for you. A couple nights ago we sat down to dinner at home and I asked Tina if she wanted anything to drink. "No thanks, I have my soup," she said. I refrained from asking the relevance of her declaratory statement.

We got up late yesterday and didn't eat breakfast because we were going to James' grandparents for lunch. At lunch, no one was offered anything to drink, no one asked for anything to drink, not wanting to be the odd girl out - I ate my rice in silence.

Afterward I fell asleep on their couch. For an hour and a half. That's after a full night's sleep and only having been up about four hours.

I awoke around 2 p.m. My head hurt. My mouth was dry. My skin was sticky. I was a teeny bit dizzy, and feeling oddly removed from James' grandparents living room. I felt like I could sleep all afternoon.

Am I hungover? I thought. I'd had a beer the night before. One beer. Sixteen hours ago. The idiocy of this consideration made me realize how dehydrated I was. So although everyone was antsy to get going to the Chang Kai-shek Memorial, I insisted on popping across the street to a convenience where I bought a liter-sized bottle of water.

I cradled it in my arms all afternoon like a baby. James' mom made fun of me for carrying around such a big bottle. "When in Rome" be damned. I don't have whatever magical power for water retention everyone else here does.

That night we went to dinner with a bunch of Tina's friends. At the restaurant, Tina's friend asked for ice water for the table. The server came back with a bucket of ice. No, no, he said, ice water. Five minutes later she came back with one glass, that was about the size of a triple shot glass, with two measly ice cubes and not enough liquid to water a cactus.

I must be living in a country full of camels.