Why I love Christmas in Thailand - by Paul Garrigan author of 'Dead Drunk'

It is now only a few weeks until Christmas, and I must admit to feeling a bit excited by it all. The decorations are already up in our house; this year we bought our biggest plastic tree yet. If you walk past our home here in Minburi there is a good chance that you will hear Christmas songs. It really is the most wonderful time of the year for me – I love it.

Pagans and Jingle Bells

My current enthusiasm for Christmas is a bit surprising; especially when I consider that it was only a couple of years ago that I was debating whether to even celebrate it anymore. After all, we live in Thailand and we are not a Christian family. I also wondered about the ethics of introducing my son to the whole Santa idea. Then I remembered how much this time of year had meant to me as a child. I don’t want my son to miss out on any of that. Most of my favourite memories of growing up are connected with Christmas. Even when I stopped believing in Santa I still wanted to believe in him – I sort of still do.

A cynic could point out that Christmas is all just manufactured hype; a cunning marketing ploy to get people to empty their pockets before the beginning of the next financial year. Of course it is a special day to most Christians, but even some of them do not agree that it is actually the birth date of their saviour (which is probably in January). It is more likely that they selected the 25th of December so as to take over the winter solstice celebrations that were so popular with my European pagan ancestors. This helps explain why so many of the festive traditions are more related to paganism. So the Christians stole Christmas from the pagans, and marketing gurus in the twentieth century managed to hijack it and turn it into the celebrations we love today. You don’t have to dig deep underneath the surface of Christmas to see that it is built on a shaky foundation – even the much loved song Jingle Bells wasn’t actually written about Christmas!

I Wish it Could be Christmas Everyday – So Does Tescos!

Despite the reasons to be cynical this is my favourite time of year. It is a part of my culture that I love sharing with my son. Timmy is growing up in Thailand and it can be a struggle to keep him interested in his western heritage; this is one part of my culture that he willingly wants to embrace. My wife never celebrated Christmas until after my son was born; during our first few years together in Thailand I didn’t even bother with it. Now she loves this time of year too.

Growing up in Ireland I naively assumed that everyone on the planet celebrated this holiday. The Coca-Cola advert assured me that this was true and in those days we were less savvy about marketing gimmicks. I thought it was so wonderful that we had this one day when we all tried to be friends. It gave me hope because if we could get one day right then it would be a lot easier to get other days right too. If that could happen it would be our highest human achievement so far. I’m older now and realise that Christmas is far from perfect, but it probably is the nearest we have gotten to such a marvellous day.

Happy Christmas

* * *

Click here to check out more of Paul's blog posts, on his website paulgarrigan.com.

'Thailand as a Writer's Paradise' by Paul Garrigan

I’ve met a lot of writers over the years while living here in Thailand. Most expats I encounter are at least planning to write a book. You could say this about people in most places of course; when I visit Ireland I meet plenty of folk who intend to write a novel one day. The difference is that in Thailand a larger percentage of these frustrated writers will actually make it happen. A lot of these books will never be read by anyone other than family and friends, but to actually finish such a project is quite an achievement – at least I think so anyway.

Why Thailand?

So what is it that attracts so many writers to Thailand? I like to think that it is because most expats are adventurers who don’t just dream about doing something – they do it. Moving to a foreign country is not something that everyone can cope with, and it takes a certain type of metal attitude to survive outside your comfort zone. Going abroad on holiday can be challenging, but moving there long term is a completely different kettle of fish. Of course my romantic idea about the expat could equally apply to every other country where expats go to live. What is it about Thailand in particular that seems to attract writers? While the male expat in Thailand might get tarnished with stereotype of only being there for the sex (the so called ‘sexpat’) the thing that really separates them from other expats is that they usually given up so much to live here. Your average expat in other countries will be going there because of the potential to make a better salary, but most expats in Thailand will look forward to a huge drop in earnings. In my own case during the years I worked as a teacher I only made a sixth of the salary that I could make working as a nurse in Ireland – my old profession. I think the fact that the expat in Thailand is willing to give up so much to live there differentiates them from other expats around the world. Of course you might be able to say the same about expats in some South American countries but I’m really not qualified to talk about this. In Thailand though, a lot of the expats are people who are willing to give up a lot to follow their dreams. It is this that I think accounts for why so many of them are writers – and not just aspiring writers. They tend to be individuals who are prepared to risk a lot in their search for contentment.

Thailand is a Great Place to be a Writer

I’ve found that Thailand is a great place to be a writer. The local culture is inspiring and forces most of us expats to challenge our old ideas about the world. Perhaps it is this wearing down of our past conditioning that gives us something interesting to say. Living in a place like Thailand can also be a constant challenge in other ways as well; many foreigners end up writing just to express their frustrations. I tend to see every corner of the world as a source for inspiration for writers, but Thailand seems to be particularly good for this.

The Bangkok Connection

I’m often asked: how did I come to secure the collaboration of Ike Atkinson, the biggest African American drug dealer in U.S. history, to write his story, “The Bangkok Connection”? It was by a fluke really. In 2006 I was researching my forthcoming book, “The Gangsters of Harlem,” and decided to include a profile of 1970s drug dealer Frank Lucas, who was on the verge of becoming international famous, thanks to the movie, “American Gangster.” I arranged an interview with Lucas. In the interview, Lucas kept referring to Ike as his “cousin” and claimed how Ike had helped him establish the Asian heroin connection from Bangkok to the U.S. in the early 1970s. Lucas also claimed that Ike had helped him move heroin in the coffins carrying U.S. servicemen who had died in the Vietnam War.

Some of Lucas’ claims sounded exaggerated or downright false. For example, Lucas claimed that Ike helped him smuggle heroin on the airplane of Secretary of State Henry Kissinger while it was in Bangkok and how he had gone personally to the Golden Triangle drug cultivation area to arrange drug deals. Really? You can put heroin on the plane of one of the most powerful men in the world. And what big drug kingpin would risk his life to do that when he could do it in a much easier and less risky fashion? So I thought it was important to interview Ike about Lucas’s claims and his relationship with Lucas.

I did a search of “Ike Atkinson” on the Internet and found he been in prison since 1975. That was 32 continuous years! Fortunately, Ike was incarcerated just 2 and 1/2 hours from me at the federal prison in Butner, North Carolina (I’m based in Rock Hill, South Carolina). Not much had been written about Ike since his incarceration. Not a good sign, I thought. Maybe he was not granting interviews. But then I thought, maybe the media had forgotten about him. In any case, as a journalist I knew never to assume anything when it came to sources. I thought it would be worth contacting Ike and asking him for an interview. I contacted the prison, and the deputy warden told me to writer Ike a letter.

Fortunately for me, I learned later from Ike, I mentioned Lucas and some his claims about his relationship with him. Ike was curious and granted me the interview. Ike denied pretty well everything Lucas said about their relationship. He is not Lucas’s cousin. He did not ship heroin in the coffins. Lucas got his heroin from Ike, who was the real pioneer of the Asian heroin connection. As the interview progressed, Ike got more agitated with what I was telling him. It was with good reason. Later I learned through my research that Lucas lied about almost everything when it came to his relationship with Ike. I left that interview knowing Ike had a remarkable story that needed telling. But he wasn’t getting out until next year. Still, we stayed in touch via postal mail and talked about collaborating after he had served his time.

When Ike got out in 2007, I contacted him and we hooked up to write the Bangkok Connection. As my research progressed, I knew I had the story of a lifetime. Okay, name one other drug kingpin who never carried a gun and who never killed any one but still managed to ship heroin during an eight year period that would be worth more than $2 billion today? Name me one other African American gangster who never worked with the Italian American Mafia? Moreover, Ike’s criminal activities sparked the creation of a special DEA unit code named CENTAC 9, which conducted an intensive three-year investigation across three continents. That was the first time that happened.

Later I learned that the deputy warden who approved my visit with Ike had screwed up. He did not know the prison rule which forbid press interviews with inmates in Butner. So I had gotten the interview because the gods smiled on me. Needless to say, I sent the deputy warden a copy of the book. I’ll invite him to the movie premier, too, if we get that far and lucky. Life is ironic sometimes, isn’t it?

Ron Chepesiuk

Extract from A Secret History of the Bangkok Hilton

The following is an extract from A Secret History of the Bangkok Hilton by Chavoret Jaruboon with Pornchai Sereemongkonpol, which was published last month.

To Thai minds, the Bangkok Hilton is a place of gloom and danger. Years later, I found out that working there was a risky business for those who lacked moral courage as there were plenty of opportunities to be corrupt.
Life gradually introduced me to good and evil until I realised how grey the world actually is and always will be. This is especially true in Thailand, where many things are ‘flexible’ or ‘compromised’ and a blind eye can be turned when money is paid or power is exercised. A lot of things in Thailand don’t always work the way they should.
Once as my father and I were on our way to visit my uncle, we came across a team of barefoot prisoners in their tattered brown uniforms cleaning the sun-parched road. I couldn’t imagine how thick their soles must be to endure the heat of the ground. They had been brought out of the prison for a few hours to labour under the glaring midday blaze.
The practice of prisoners performing public service can be traced back hundreds of years and continues to this day. During the early days of Rattanakosin, Thailand’s current era, they contributed to the kingdom by building canals, roads and railroads among other public structures. In fact, the Bangkok Hilton was built in part with prison labour.
During World War I, the Corrections Department transferred 200 prisoners from Bang Kwang Prison to a temporary camp in the Bang Khen area and ordered them to grow rice and raise livestock to be sold cheaply to law-abiding citizens. At that time, Thailand was suffering economically and such commodities were scarce.
The practice was revised in 1980 and a set of rules was introduced. Convicts are entitled to reductions in their sentences equal to the number of days they have performed public service and, on some occasions, a small wage.
The intention is to remind people that prisoners are not outcasts but are still part of society and that they can contribute towards the common good. Personally I don’t think it really influences Thai attitudes towards inmates. In fact, this arrangement has backfired a few times as prisoners have attempted to escape.
As a boy, I saw the convicts as bogeymen rather than outcasts. At that first close encounter, they were figures to be feared. Yet I could hardly take my eyes off them. This left a lasting impression on me. The difference between then and now is that I’ve adopted a more realistic attitude.
The scraping sounds the ankle shackles made as they struggled to walk and work further drew my attention to them. One inmate had covered his swarthy body with tattoos of tigers, Hanuman, the Hindu monkey god, and occult writing. The prisoners derived great feelings of support and protection from these. They did so, perhaps, because there wasn’t much else for them to hold on to. One could easily wonder why, if the inked symbols possessed any power, those men had ended up in jail.

Staying Sober in Thailand

I came to Thailand almost a decade ago as a drunk on his last legs. I arrived at Don Muang airport from a job in Saudi Arabia with no idea as to where my life was going next. I had moved to Saudi in the hope that the illegality of alcohol would help me turn my life around; I could not have been more wrong about this. In fact I found that the illegal grog meant that my physical and mental health was dropping towards new lows. I felt miserable and decided that if I was going to drink myself to death it wasn’t going to be in the middle of a bloody desert. I left Riyadh with a vague idea about drinking my way around the world, but after a few days in Bangkok I knew that I wasn’t going anywhere else.

I found work as an ESL teacher and for the next few years lived the dream; or so I tried to tell anyone that would listen. In the beginning it all seemed so exotic and different and like many before me I developed what the more cynical ex-pat likes to refer to as ‘Thai fever’. After a couple of years though the novelty of Thailand had worn off and I was there because I’d nowhere better to go. During a sober few weeks I met the woman who is now my wife; the only real good thing to come from those years. We eventually moved to her home in Phitsanulok where I took up residence as the village drunk. I was living in one of the most beautiful locations on the planet but it made little difference to me. I just drank and drank and provided gossip for the neighbors. Near the end of my drinking I began to dislike all those things that had once attracted me to Thailand; I felt trapped with no options.

It was around that time that I found the Thai temple Thamkrabok. It was here that I managed to get sober and I’ve stayed that way ever since. The fact that I was off the booze meant that I could once again appreciate my surroundings; it also meant that I could begin building a proper life here. The idea of a sober life among the Thais would have once seemed impossible; after all there is just so much temptation. I was completely wrong about this though; I’ve found that it is all a matter of perception. The truth is that Thailand is a great place to stay sober – at least for me anyway.

These last four years have contained so many joys; the greatest one being the birth of my son. I have managed to do things that once would have seemed impossible. I learnt to drive and bought a brand new car; something that most people take for granted but seems like a miracle to me. I found a job that I love and managed to get a book published; really the stuff of dreams. There have also been many other joys along the way. I only quit the booze to stop the pain yet I’ve got so much more.

During my recent visit back to Ireland I was asked why I stayed in Thailand. Was I afraid that I’d drink if I left? The reason I remain in Thailand is that I’m settled and if something isn’t broken why try and fix it. It was tough building a life here and the idea of starting again somewhere else just doesn’t appeal. I no longer view Thailand as quite the wondrous location that I once did but it really is a good place to live; so is Ireland. I have it good here most of the time. Recently I’ve started cycling around my local area and sometimes it really hits me that I live in such a beautiful part of the world.

Paul Garrigan, author of Dead Drunk: Saving myself from alcoholism in a Thai Monastery

Light relief from the lady known as Angel

Dressed as an angel, a petite blonde Australian woman flitted about the auditorium, hugging participants and lecturing about the healing power of love and laughter. Australia's Susan Aldous prescribes laughter as the best medicine. Called the Angel of Bang Kwang, she is a ray of sunshine for underprivileged Thais - from inmates at a maximum security prison to women and children in shelters, writes Tibor Krausz in the Sydney Morning Herald.

At a recent symposium in Bangkok, hundreds of health-care professionals from across Thailand were treated to an unusual spectacle. Dressed as an angel, a petite blonde Australian woman flitted about the auditorium, hugging participants and lecturing them about the healing power of love and laughter.
Susan Aldous wore a white chiffon costume, with fluffy wings and a sequined tiara - a clumsy mixture, as she puts it, of Snow White and Bridal Best circa Word War II.

Yet the outfit wasn't simply a publicity gimmick.
Melbourne-born Aldous is widely known in Thailand as the Angel of Bang Kwang. She has earnt the epithet with her dedicated volunteer work with inmates - many of them serving life sentences for drug offences - at the notorious maximum-security prison outside Bangkok, where she is friends with prisoners and guards alike.
But she does so much more.
Invited to act as titular mascot for a Thai national hospital institution, the high-school drop-out was at the symposium to teach doctors and nurses about humanised health care.
Her credentials: decades-long devotion to helping the needy, the neglected and the down-and-out at countless hospital wards, women's shelters, refugee camps, or anywhere else she can find them.
"My past is my PhD in this work. In the course of my work I've been called an angel but I've never [been asked] to dress up as one," she laughs.
A few days later, Aldous demonstrates her modus operandi.
During her weekly visit to a women's shelter on the outskirts of Bangkok, she waves to a group of women - battered wives, rape victims, single mothers - unwinding in the shelter's shady yard. Children mob her. Some have been rescued from sexual exploitation or sweatshop-style slavery. Between hugs, Aldous hands them toys and chocolates - two each so they can donate one to a sibling or friend.
"This way they learn they never lose by giving, if only a smile or a helping hand," she explains before proceeding with an English lesson for them.
On weekends in Bangkok, Aldous also holds birthing and laughing yoga classes for expectant mothers and has parties for residents. Recently, as part of her drama therapy sessions, she staged a play with several battered children at the shelter to emphasise an anti-violence message. The children performed to popular acclaim at Thailand's National Human Rights Commission.
"Sister is so kind to us. No one else cares about us," says Oy, an emaciated woman at the shelter who has AIDS. Her 13-year-old son is cared for in a Buddhist monastery but she doesn't tell her family where she is, so as not to brand them with the stigma of her disease.

The two women hug, tears in their eyes. Momentarily, though, Aldous begins joking with Oy in fluent Thai and they both laugh, in line with Aldous's philosophy that laughter is the best medicine.
Everywhere else Aldous goes, from crowded cells to hospital wards, her bubbly, instant camaraderie seems infectious.
"She's relit my beacon," says Martin Zweiback, a Hollywood producer who met Aldous by chance during a holiday in Thailand. He credits her compassion and buoyant optimism with his revitalised will to live after his wife's death from cancer three years ago.
"I felt my life was over," he says. "Then I watched Susan going about the slums of Bangkok with a shining spirit and a bright smile. I saw her hugging a double murderer with such compassion. But forgive me for drifting into Pollyanna land as there's nothing Pollyanna about Susan."
A single mother with no income, Aldous, 47, lives hand-to-mouth in a small rented apartment with her 17-year-old daughter near Bang Kwang. She is a youthful, pretty sprightly woman who wears hand-me-down clothes and backpacker-style trinkets. Aldous lives on kerbside meals and walks a lot to save on bus fares. Her Thai neighbours often slip money in envelopes under her door.
"What do I need?" she says. "I'm 31 years down the road with [humanitarian volunteer work] but I haven't yet missed a meal." A born-again Christian, she still has in her some of the hellraiser she once was.
An orphan raised by foster parents in an upper-middle class part of Melbourne, Aldous became a rebel in her early teens. Dropping out of school, she was, at times, a spaced-out flower child with bird bones and feathers dangling from ears (Mary Poppins on crack, she jokes); a skinhead biker in military fatigues; and a proto-punk complete with tattoos, safety-pin piercings and shaved eyebrows.
She was nicknamed "Petrol Head" for sniffing petrol, glue and aerosols. She'd slash herself with razor blades.
"I was angry at the world and rebelled at a predictable life in the suburbs," she says.
Burnt out and jaded, she thought of suicide. Then in Melbourne's red-light district, St Kilda, she encountered Christian aid workers, one of whom suggested: "If you're going to throw your life away, why don't you instead give it away?" "Compassion has been my drug of choice ever since," Aldous says.
While volunteering as a welfare worker in South-East Asian slums and prisons, she arrived in Thailand in 1985 on a nine-day visit - and has never left. She has just launched a campaign to raise awareness of gender issues in Thailand, where spousal abuse of women is still widespread. As part of this drive, Aldous has also submerged herself in the marginalised world of the country's renowned third gender - ladyboys, as transvestites and transsexuals are known locally.

As a frequent visitor to Bangkok's Boys Town, a gay strip with rowdy bars and transvestite shows, she counsels ladyboys, warning them against prostitution and drug abuse.
She has just published a book of interviews with ladyboys, to provide a view past the stereotypes.
"Susan touches a lot of lives," says her Thai co-author, Pornchai Sereemongkonpol. "At first I was suspicious of her motives, then you see the way she treats people and how they light up at the sight of her."
Last month a popular Thai television series featured Aldous in a two-part program. It drew an overwhelming response from viewers, who called in from around the country to thank Aldous for her charity works and to offer support for her projects. "Everywhere I go, people now recognise me," she says. "They come up to me and say, 'You're Susan.' They shake my hand, thank me or give me free water and yoghurt to keep me going."
Yet Aldous is not basking in her fame. She has started visiting a school for disadvantaged children to teach English and give them books, toys and sport equipment, which she collects with help from friends and grateful former proteges.
A close friend and a helpful ally at Bwang Kwang is Chavoret Jaruboon, who was Thailand's chief executioner until recently.
"The inmates call us the angel and the devil," Chavoret laughs.
Aldous, though, rejects the angel moniker and says: "I'm not a little-goody-two-shoes, or a saint. I just believe that a smile and a kind word can change lives. They've changed mine."Source: The Sun-Herald

Misery memoirs don't take holidays

I arrived at my desk on the second of January to find that a mere 114 emails had made their way to me over the festive period. Not too bad, considering I had resisted checking them over the holiday period, and I was gone for 10 days.

Then I noticed that someone had tried to Skype me during the holidays. I was astounded to see that someone had attempted to call me on 25th December.
Who would call me on Christmas day, I wondered. As much as I love publishing, and love my job, I prefer to be receiving different types of calls at Christmas.
It could only be the Bangkok office, where they don’t celebrate Christmas. In fact, it’s hard to persuade the editor there, Pornchai, to even take a day off.
What was so urgent? He had just received copies of Miss Bangkok, our latest piece of non-fiction from our Thai office, and simply couldn’t wait to tell me how great it was.

And I must concur! I got my copies today, and it is a fantastic book. The beautiful cover belies the tragic story that lies within. Bua is a prostitute, working in the infamous red-light district of Patpong. Unfortunately, this is one book that doesn’t have a neat, happy ending. She remains in prostitution, and is still living with her violent husband. There has been a great deal of coverage about misery memoirs of late – all of it cynical; but this book is different. The money that Bua will make from the book sales really will empower her to change her life. I hope it will also change readers’ perceptions of Thai prostitutes too.
Bua admits in the book that she still dreams of a ‘farang’(foreigner) who will rescue her from prostitution, but in reality, the best way to rescue her from prostitution and poverty would be to buy her book. Sometimes, it's the little things that make the biggest difference.



Jean, Publisher.

A strange, strange land...

The author of Farang, Dr Iain Corness, chats to Thailand's PM TV about a reincarnated squid, his date with a fortune teller and one of the few countries where you can still get run over by a shop!



Add to My Profile More Videos

My First Book

Of all the things I’ve ever envisaged doing with my life writing the memoirs of a Thai state executioner was certainly not one of them. Chaverot Jaruboon shot dead 55 people during his career and decided that he would kill no more when lethal injection replaced the gun in Thailand, in 2003.

I was nervous. I knew absolutely nothing about Thailand and even less about the death penalty. Would I have the stomach for it? Should I be doing this from an ethical point of view?

Pornchai, the Thai researcher, sent me over the interviews that had already taken place and, inevitably, there was more to the man than his job. Over the next few weeks he began to remind me of my dad. My dad is a man with simple tastes who lives for his family. He is a quiet man who doesn’t seek friendship with his co-workers and prefers to come home at night to his wife, who he may - or may not – be a little frightened off. He had worked incredibly hard all his life but has no material wealth to speak off. His only wish was that his kids got a good education so that they could support themselves.

The executioner is a quiet man with simple tastes. At work he keeps himself to himself and the most important people in his life are his family. One of the biggest reasons for accepting his dubious promotion was that he would make enough money to send his 3 kids to a good school. To him education was the key to an independent life and his sons and daughter have done him proud. He is wild about Tew, his wife of 40 years, and may – or may not – be slightly afraid of her. They have had to scrimp over the years and today he is not a wealthy man.

I rest my case. - Nicola Pierce, author