Free The Angel of Bang Kwang Prison by Susan Aldous, Nicola Pierce Page B

months of trying to learn the ins and outs of that particular society.
    Now you can call it what you will: woman’s intuition, something supernatural, a Guardian Angel or just plain weird, but this is how I have built up my career. I follow my inner voice, which always directs me to someone in need. One Sunday I headed into town and had the feeling that I should go into a hotel that I liked to have coffee in from time to time. It had a swimming pool but you had to be a paying guest of the hotel in order to be able to use it so I sent a little prayer upwards that I might be given permission to use it at some stage. I love to swim; it’s an excellent way to de-stress yourself. I went into the bar because, as with in many walks of life, that seemed the best place to start. There were a few people around reading newspapers or engaged in intimate chats. I took a table and ordered a beer from the waiter. A few minutes later a guy, Malaysian, walked in and took the table behind me. I had a feeling that he could speak English and asked him if he could. He smiled in surprise and said yes, asking me in turn how I could have known. I shrugged and said quite truthfully that I just had a feeling he did. He looked me directly in the eye and said, ‘I think God must have sent you here.’
    I was delighted and replied, ‘And you too.’
    We ended up having dinner and a few more drinks. He was a journalist with a local newspaper and wrote a political column. It was a very enjoyable evening and one I wasn’t to forget about quickly since he left my name at the swimming pool, which meant I could use it whenever I liked. So you see why I believe in miracles!

    Once I stopped wearing transparent clothes I felt very at home in Asia. I adored the food especially. I developed a reputation for being able to eat an entire jar—and not suffer from any diarrhoea—of Sambal Blachan, which is a really smelly chilli paste made from shrimps. It’s only supposed to accompany meat, fish or rice but I just eat it by itself, straight from the jar. I also relish Beef Randang and a fried chicken dish called Nasi Goreng but I’m ashamed to say that the nicest meat dish I ever had was frog. They told me it was chicken, but it wasn’t, it was frog, and it must have been a big one because it was a fair sized chunk of meat. However, I’m not completely foolhardy about what I put it my mouth. I attended a Chinese business meeting once and refused to taste the main course, which was 10,000 Singaporean dollars, of seal’s penis and testicle stew. I could think of so many other ways to spend that kind of money. I also draw the line at eating turtle’s feet. Those majestic massive creatures always remind me of dolphins; they look like they have a soul and intellect—it’s hard to feel the same way about a chicken.
    I kept in frequent contact with home through letters and was thrilled when my parents told me that they were saving to come and visit me. They flew in on a night flight so they were a bit groggy when they got off the plane. Dad couldn’t fathom why his glasses were all steamed up, but it was just the heavy heat, even at night time. It was an emotional reunion. For my part I got a bit of a shock at how much they had apparently aged in a year or so, while I looked taller and more grown-up to them. The three of us stayed in a plush 5-star hotel by the seaside. I think whatever worries they had about losing me were dispelled by our taking a holiday together and spending time re-connecting and catching up with one another. They were delighted with my fluency in Chinese and my bargaining skills with the local rickshaw riders. One ancient Chinese guy muttered to my father, ‘Uh oh, madam is very tough!’
    I have to admit that I had developed a talent for bargaining, and a short time after arriving in Malaysia I was paying the local prices, instead of the inflated ‘tourist prices’, though when I have the cash I do like to tip, but it’s more