Oh, my dear departed Crockpot, how I loved thee. I’d had the thing for like twenty years and then I shipped it across the ocean. I set it up (to cook some delicious pork chops I’d bought on the same trip) and it never heated up. I tried different outlets. I tried a different converters. I tried filling it with water and leaving it sit for a whole day unwatched. No dice. So I resigned the Crockpot to the trashman and baked the chops in the oven.

New Year’s Day came and I opened my pork tenderloin which had been safely frozen (in addition to being vacuum sealed) for the past month and I thought, ‘that’s not right.’

My tenderloin smelled distinctly smoked. I cut into it and I studied it and decided that it felt distinctly firm for raw meat. So I tasted it.

Yup, smoked, cooked, done. I hadn’t stuck a fork in it, but the knife I used worked well enough.

Now, the plan was to cook this less than 1lb pork tenderloin, have my traditional pork and sauerkraut dinner and freeze portions for later consumption. I had even walked to the market across the desert for potatoes to mash. (Not as strenuous as it sounds. It’s only about a half a block. Don’t go all Lawrence of Arabia on me.) Since the meat was already done, I didn’t have time to fiddle with mashing the potatoes. so on New Year’s Day I had sliced pork, sauerkraut and a baked potato, leaving me with a lot of pork that I couldn’t refreeze.

So the next day I had pork cubed up in my scrambled eggs with a banana and an orange for breakfast and a pork sandwich with cheese and mustard for lunch and pork with sauerkraut and a baked potato for dinner.

And the next day I had pork cubed up in my scrambled eggs with fruit for breakfast again, but I didn’t want to eat smoked pork for lunch so I had bratwurst, potato chips and a banana for lunch. I was going to variety, don’t you know. For dinner I had popcorn as I was to lazy to cook anything.

The next morning I couldn’t face scrambled eggs again so I fried the end of my bacon and fried the eggs in the grease. For lunch I made mac and cheese and put cubed pork into it with a bit of onion. Of course, when I bought the mac and cheese, I didn’t realize I was getting the family size so now I have oodles of mac and cheese with pork and onion in the fridge. At dinner time I decided to dismember a pomegranate and I ended up with pomegranate juice all over the living room. One of the best things I ever did was buy a hot pink carpet. If pomegranate juice stains a hot pink carpet, does anyone see it? Unlike the tree falling in the forest, I have a conclusive answer to this question. Nope. Then again, you also can’t see the seeds when they fall on the floor either, but that’s an entirely different problem.

Yesterday morning, faced with the stubby end of my pork tenderloin that I wanted so badly a month ago and now wish to never see again, I fried two eggs, sliced the end of the pork, crammed both into a roll with some cheese and ate that for breakfast with another banana and the rest of the pomegranate seeds. Not sure how soon I want to see another banana either.

I still have half a package of hot dogs and 2 brats in the freezer and three servings of mac and cheese in the fridge and I think I’m starting to grow a snout.

So if anybody wondered if I was missing Christmas, I don’t think the Malaysians would have stood for it.

And then you get to the temple. Or rather to the steps at the bottom of the temple.

Ever since I was in Korea, steps have made me breathless. Not sure if it’s leftover asthma which I got from living there or my hypochondriacal memory of it. Caves have always made me claustrophobic. I’ve gotten over a fear of manmade tunnels, but caves? I don’t care how long they’ve been there or how many people walk in and out perfectly safely everyday, those suckers are just waiting for me to step inside so they can collapse on my head. (I got panicky watching The Molly Maguires starring Sean Connery.) Between the two, standing at the bottom of the immense number of stairs leading up to the cave made me a little dizzy and I had visions of being carried down all those steps by some poor Malaysian Hindu when I freaked out and collapsed.

So instead I went shopping. I found a very nice blouse at the first store I stopped in which I knew would solve a couple of holes in my school wardrobe, but I chose to wander around to see what else was there before buying. There was a lot of stuff there. Guys splitting open coconuts before your eyes. Rainbow wigs. Bubble guns. Unidentifiable fried foods (what is it with the unidentifiable fried foods. Can you just fry anything and that makes it good?)

Eventually, I circled back to the first store and started checking out my desired purchase to see if it would fit. The clerk said I could try it on and led me to a – I kid you not – broom closet, complete with a broken mirror and a sloping ceiling. The shirt fit, but as I was taking it off, I banged into the fluorescent light, which blinked out leaving me half dressed in a pitch dark broom closet with a sloping ceiling and a broken mirror. I tried tapping the light back to life to no avail and ended up getting dressed in the dark. Fortunately, it occurred to me to feel for seams so I didn’t put my shirt on inside out.

On the way out I encountered the monkeys. The travel book had promised monkeys, but I forgot until I saw one. At that point I remembered that it said not to get too close as they bite.

Travel is so enriching.

Kuala Lumpur has a terrible train system, which puts it ahead of places with none, but not by much. I like to use trains and subways when possible while traveling because the train station is going to be exactly where I left it, something I can’t count on with a taxi. Ever need a taxi and couldn’t get one? My point exactly. Plus, you get to see the natives in their environment. You’re on vacation, they’re trying to get to work, school, home, wherever. So I like trains.

I can’t say I liked these trains though. Kuala Lumpur’s train network is actually a couple of different companies so you have to buy a new ticket every time you switch trains. Sometimes you have to move to another station, which may be blocks away.

When I went to the Butterfly Park, the concierge told me I had to go to the central station (called Sentral) on the monorail and change to the Putra line, which I only had to take two stops to Masjid Jamek (and then start the Bataan Death March.) I got to Sentral, followed the crowd and found myself standing on the street. Assuming this was wrong, I went back into the station and tried staring at the map. Didn’t help. I asked the nice people perusing the map with me and was told I had to walk down the block and across the street. So I joined the crowd again down the block, across the street, through the construction, up the stairs and into the station/mall. I followed the crowd to the ticket counter and waited in a long line, but when I got to the window I was told it was the wrong one. I went across to the other side and got into the amazingly short line. When I got to that window I found out why it was so short. You didn’t buy tickets there, you had to get them from the machine. At my grimace, the woman behind the counter laughed and assured me that someone would help me. She also called over to the woman helping at the ticket machines to warn her I was coming. She needed warning. I couldn’t find the button to put the instructions in English. Then I couldn’t work out how to pick the right station. Then the machine wouldn’t take my money. Eventually the woman just took my money and got the ticket from another machine for me. At least once I got on the train, I was okay.

On the way home, I had time to study the map and I realized I could get on the Ampang line, change trains at Hung Tauh and eliminate four stations including the horrible Sentral and a half an hour of travel time (which I really looked forward to after the march to the Butterfly Park.)

One thing I did learn when I got in the wrong line the first day. There was a train that went to Batu Caves. Try as I might, I couldn’t weasel around going back to Sentral, but if I could get a train to Batu Caves instead of relying on a taxi (spelled teksi in KL) or a driver it was worth it. The trip out was nice once I figured out the cars. The middle car was women only which was novel. The trip back however, that was interesting.

Abhorring the idea of wading through Sentral again, I located a way out of it by getting off at one station and setting off a few blocks to another station so I could do the Hung Tauh interchange again. Well, easier said than done!

First, getting on the correct train proved tricky. Normally, you get off the train on one platform and get back on going the opposite direction on the opposite platform. Batu Caves happens to be the last stop. Apparently they have two trains. One going one direction, another going the other direction. When one train reaches the end of the line, it simply switches directions. I’ve never encountered this before so when I was directed down the steps to the platform I had gotten off at, I was confused. So was the Japanese family attempting to board at the same time. I asked two different people and so did they. Then we pooled information. Since every single person said this was the right train, we boarded.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

I’d like to say it was half an hour because it was. I happened to look at my watch when I sat down because I was calculating how likely it was that I could get back to the hotel in time for a late lunch. Eventually the train chugged off and out the window I saw a nifty little tourist attraction that would have handily eaten up that thirty minute wait had I known about it. Pooh.

After the second station, the train stopped on the tracks. We sat for about ten minutes before resuming our journey. Then after the third station, the train stopped again. This time we sat for a long time. I hadn’t conveniently checked my watch so I have no idea how long, but the woman across from me fell asleep. The trip out had taken maybe half an hour. The trip back was over an hour. Ah, the joys of public transportation!

I knew getting to the other station was something of a leap of faith, but security guard directions had gotten me this far. The directions I was given by the security guard were “follow the walkway to the mall. Ten minutes.” Out I went, through the walkway, over a river and a road to another station, but not the one I was looking for. However, there was another walkway over a street that appeared to lead to a department store. Department store, mall, same-same, especially in Asia. I was hoping that the department store would have a food court because the long train stops had eaten into my projected lunchtime and I was starting to think I was going to end up at a McDonald’s. If there was one, I couldn’t find it in the swarms of humanity. I chose retreat and headed out to the street where a number of hawkers were selling unidentifiable fried this I wasn’t willing to risk my stomach on and headed in what I hoped was the general direction of the station. My sense of direction must be getting better because I came up to the track and followed it to the station with a minimum of broken crossing lights or staring down roads trying to figure out where the street sign was and the train deposited me at the station nearest my hotel in a few minutes and well before I fainted from hunger.

One last, non-train story. I arrived at the airport the prescribed three hours before my flight and headed to the gate. At the gate, I stopped outside the unattended metal detector, look around and proceeded through. It went off causing the three security guards chatting at the desk to look up. One came over so I asked her if I needed to go through yet another scanner. She said I wasn’t allowed in the waiting area yet. (We’ll just put aside the fact that there was already a family, who by the looks of their fast food bags, had been camping there for some time.) I asked why. She said, “the plane is not even-” at this point, she paused to glance over her shoulder at the plane, which was sitting at the gate like a giant Labrador Retriever. “You can’t wait here. You have to wait in the concourse.” Where all the shopping is. I walked away snickering at her almost telling me the plane wasn’t there when I’m pretty sure the plane had been sitting there for a couple of hours already. It’s the little things.

The wait did give me the opportunity to go through the jungle in the middle of the airport. Yup, jungle. In the airport.

Well, that’s another story.

I went to the concierge asking for a train map and directions. She pulled out a tourist map and did a full spiel on what to see in KL, including how to get to the Butterfly Park, or at least to the nearest subway stop. The long way at least. I got off at the station and asked the first security guard I spotted for directions. He looked surprised that I planned to walk, but I assumed that was because he thought I was the average soul who doesn’t walk further than to closest parking spot to the mall. I should have realized he was factoring the relative humidity with the distance and the mountain he knew I would be climbing. Regardless, he gave me directions thusly. “Go around the front of the building to light turn right” said while gesturing with left hand. “You will pass Merdeka Park and you will see the police station. You will see it on left ” making a right hand gesture. I repeated the directions with the words that matched the gestures. He said yes. I set off.

Two blocks from the train station I came to a huge intersection with a broken walk signal. I figured out it was broken after I waited for a complete cycle. I consulted my map, jaywalked through traffic and set off in what looked like the right direction. And I walked. And I walked. A nice little park with a cool fountain appeared on the right so I crossed the street to have a sit down and consult my map. Lucky me, I had found Merdeka Park. Cooled and confident I was headed in roughly the right direction I set off again. And I walked. And I walked (losing confidence all the time.) Dehydrating by the moment and fearing I was going to end up so hopelessly lost that I was going to miss my flight in four days, I stopped at a little kiosk for some water and a few directions. “Keep going straight on this road. At the National Mosque turn right” (accompanied by right hand gesture). “Follow that road to the end and turn left” (accompanied by left hand gesture.) “All parks right there. Butterfly Park, Orchid Park, Deer Park. You want cold water or not cold?” I went for the not cold because it was going to be warm in about five minutes anyway and set off again.

I spotted the mosque roof through the trees. There was a road to my right lined with Easy-Up tents, no parking signs and parked cars, trucks and vans. The lure of that was took much to pass up. Plus, I had to be close to the park by now. I’d been walking about 45 minutes and it just didn’t look that far on the map. The road was jammed shoulder to shoulder and down the middle with people selling food, people selling perfume, people selling sandals, people selling prayer rugs…. About then it dawned on me that it was Friday, the Muslim equivalent of Sunday, and I was near the National Mosque. Doh. I headed up and through all the retail until I came to an intersection where I found my first sign pointing to the butterfly park. I wouldn’t call what the road did ending, and neither did the map, but it did kinda peter out in one direction.

Sensing my destination was near, I walked another ten minutes in the soupy heat to get to the butterfly park, which was hotter and soupier due to the rainforest conditions needed for the butterflies.

Totally worth it.

After leaving the park, I decided to walk to the Central Market. You know where this is going, don’t you? I trekked down the hill, through the throngs and realized at the bottom of the road that I had no clue where to go from there. I flagged down three women who, with much consulting and discussion over who had the most English, decided to just lead me most of the way. They stopped within sight of my turn and told me I would be going through a building and over a bridge and I would be there. K. On the corner where I needed to turn there happened to be a textile museum so I stopped in there for about an hour. The exhibits were interesting. The opportunity to take my hair out of its ponytail so the sweat could dry was priceless.

Heading off again, I found a bridge and crossed it. Then I walked along for a while, peeking down side streets because the best stuff is down side streets. And then I saw it. This huge covered, closed street.

I went through a building, but not the one she told me, so I’m assuming it’s right next to the police station. The Central Market was less than it was cracked up to be. Fascinating that it’s been going since 1888 and all, but to me it was just another flea market. I did stop for lunch there. The food court hosted one place called Western Food, which served “spaghete beef meatball”, that I swear was covered in gravy. I went for the Thai food. Note to self, if the Thai restaurant doesn’t have pad Thai on the menu, you’ll be getting Chinese. I ate my Chinese Thai food, considered whether my legs would take the walk to Chinatown, decided against and headed outside to, guess what, rain.

That haze is humidity. I had that view pretty much every morning. I loved it. It was like living in a sauna and after being in the desert with sinus problems for four months all I wanted to do was stand on a corner and breathe deep.

One day on the train, I was chatting with a woman who asked all the usual questions you ask a tourist including where I planned to go that day. I was headed to the Butterfly Park and planned to take in the Orchid Park and possibly the Deer Park if time allowed. But that’s a different story. She said it was a good idea to do the Butterfly Park early because it was going to rain that afternoon. “Oh,” said I. “Is that what the weather report said?” “No,” said she as if this were perfectly obvious. “It rains every afternoon.” Which might explain the rash I developed on my calves from wet denim.

Of course this doesn’t mean I could stay hydrated. Even the maids noticed. I started with the standard two bottles of water. The third day, I asked the turn down lady if I could have another bottle. The next morning, the maid left me three bottles of water and extra tea stuff. The fourth day, I was still thirsty, so I stopped at a convenience store and got a bottle of juice and a bottle of water. The next day when she made up my room, the maid left four bottles of water, four extra tea bags and two extra coffees with accompanying sugars and creams. I drank all the water and about half the tea. How dry I am, how dry I am. You’ll never know, how dry I am. Or was anyway.

The first commenter to guess correctly wins the ebook title of their choice. Please only choose titles that have been published because if I have to remember to send you one at a later date, I’m going to forget.

The first commenter to guess correctly wins the ebook title of their choice. Please only choose titles that have been published because if I have to remember to send you one at a later date, I’m going to forget.

“What is wrong with you?” Sonya demanded. “You’ve been acting like a nut for days.”

“I’m not acting like a nut.” Colleen clutched the neck of her shirt closed.

“You are too. God, you’d think somebody was after you.” Sonya stomped toward the door and yanked it open before Colleen could tell her not to. “Can you tell your girlfriend to quit acting like a loon?”

Dan opened his mouth and then closed it again. “She’s my girlfriend?”

Sonya rolled her eyes. “Just what I need. Both of you being insane.”

“I’m not being insane.”

“What’s going on?” Dan stepped inside and closed the door. “I’ve been trying to call you for three days.”

“She won’t answer the phone.” Sonya glared at Colleen. “She keeps turning the ringer off so I won’t answer it either.”

“Is somebody harassing you?” Dan asked.

Colleen pursed her lips, but didn’t answer,

“Colleen?”

Her eyes met his. How could she tell him? Sorry, but my ex-fiance is here begging my forgiveness and I’m involved with you and with Mike, but I’m not sure if I shouldn’t forgive him. How can I after what he did, but how can I not? He was the first man I ever loved. Colleen chewed her lip. Then the phone rang and she jumped, biting her cheek.

“Are you going to answer it?” Sonya asked. “Oh my God. I’ll get it.”

“No!” Colleen heard her voice screeching. Dan and Sonya didn’t miss it either. Both of them flinched.

“You see what I mean?” Sonya put her hands on her hips. “Dan.”

The phone rang again. Dan crossed the room and picked up the phone. Colleen held her breath as he listened.

“Sir, this is Officer Dan O’Neill of the Los Angeles Police. I understand-” Dan frowned. Then he set the phone back in its cradle. “He hung up. I don’t think he’ll bother you anymore.”

Colleen stared at him. Bother her? Was that what David had been doing? Sobs crowded her throat. “You had no right to do that.”

“What?” Sonya shouted. “He was helping you.”

Colleen clenched her teeth. How could she know? Dan just stood there looking at her. Steady, reliable Dan. Maybe he knew. Maybe he didn’t. Colleen spun around and ran for her room. Dan closed the distance behind her quickly, but not quickly enough. She slammed the door in his face.

“Colleen, open the door.” His voice had that wonderful authoritative ring that she loved and hated. “Colleen.”

She slid to the floor, covering her face with her hands.

She loved Dan. Loved the security of him and the low rumble of his voice. He loved her too, or he wouldn’t be here.

She loved Mike. His easy smile and adventurous spirit. Since that night at the disco, he’d been more than willing to hold their dates at his place or hers, but he’d never gone past second base.

But David. David was the first man she’d ever loved. He was the one who needed her the most. And now he was here because he still needed her.

How was she supposed to choose? What would happen if she chose wrong?

Sonya found Colleen at her desk Tuesday afternoon doing paperwork. “Do you know why the ringer on our phone is turned all the way down?”

“No,” Colleen lied. She’d spent almost every moment of the last two days hiding in her bedroom, under the covers. She hadn’t even managed laundry. Just washed up some undies and called it a day.

“I wondered why it hadn’t been ringing oh, ever so I looked at it this morning and it was all the way down. I mean I don’t have any kind of social life, but you get calls all the time lately and I haven’t heard the phone ring at all for a couple of days. Speaking of which, you got a call.”

“Mike or Dan?’ Colleen asked.

“Neither. It was some guy named David. He just said to tell you that he’d called. So where did you meet this one?” Sonya smirked, but it melted into a frown. “What? What’s the matter with David?”

“I met him in college.” Colleen could hear the lack of strength in her voice.

“In college? Back in Ohio?” Sonya sounded aghast. “He must have it bad for you if he tracked you all the way out here. Is there something wrong with him?”

Have it bad. He must have it bad. So maybe he did really love her and maybe she should give him another chance. But what if she gave him another chance, lost Dan and Mike and he hurt her again? Did it matter if she lost Dan or Mike because she might never be able to trust them either?

“What’s the matter, Colleen?” Sonya asked.

Colleen shook her head. She couldn’t have explained what the matter was if she had a month and lots of coffee. Someone paged her and she picked up the phone. Sonya waved, still frowning as she walked away.

“Colleen, there’s someone here to see you at Main Info,” MaryAnn said.

“Who is it?” Colleen’s stomach knotted.

“A guy,” MaryAnn said sarcastically.

“Thanks, that narrows it right down.” Colleen shot back. “Is it a customer?”

She listened for a moment while MaryAnn asked. “No, he said he’s got a nice shiny badge if you’d like to see it. Colleen, have you been trafficking illegal pandas again?”

Illegal pandas? Only a Chinese history scholar would pop off with that. But if he had a shiny badge it would be Dan. Bad enough, but not catastrophic. “Very funny. I’ll be right out.”

Mike, not Dan, leaned on the Info desk grinning. He had a shiny badge too.

“Hi. I tried to call you at home, but nobody answered so I figured I’d stop on my way home.”

“Oh, sorry. I guess I haven’t been around much.” Lying was getting easier all the time. “Do you have time for a cup of coffee?”

“I don’t have to stay if you’re busy.”

Colleen glanced at her watch. She was off in about an hour and because she’d spent the better part of the day hiding at her desk, all her office work was done and there really wasn’t much for her to do on the floor. Dennis wouldn’t mind if she sat in the ebar drinking coffee either. He was still embarrassed about magnanimously giving her the day off on her day off. “I’m not busy right now. What have you been up to? Anything interesting come through over the weekend?”

Mike launched into a story that involved a kid, a drainpipe and a terrier that had her laughing before she’d even gotten their coffee. Waiting for their order, she noticed a police car slide past the windows. She really had to tell Mike about Dan. It wasn’t fair. It hadn’t been fair before either of them knew. Now that Dan knew, it was really unfair to Mike.

“I was wondering what you were doing after work. You get off soon, don’t you?” Mike asked as she sat down.

She smiled. He knew her schedule. “In about an hour. What did you have in mind?”

“Well, we never did get to that Thai place and a buddy of mine was telling me about a great new disco that just opened up.” He glanced out the window. “It’s a little late to go snorkeling for your first time, but I do know a guy who runs night dives if you’re up for it. That could be fun.”

Fun, she thought. All Mike thought about was fun. It was refreshing. She lowered her eyes to her cup as if considering his options, but let her eyes linger on the open neck of his tan shirt. Would he consider sex fun? Sonya was closing and she was suddenly feeling a little warm. She could picture him in swim trunks, wet, in the dark water. She patted her cheek to hide half her blush. “I haven’t been dancing for a while, but I’m not really dressed for it either.”

“That’s okay. I thought I could pick you up at your place for a late dinner and then we could go to the club.” He sipped his coffee. “What do you say?”

Colleen opened her mouth to agree and heard her name paged. She sighed. “Hold that thought.” She walked over to the phone thinking how easy things were with Mike. If she had told him she had plans tonight he would have just suggested tomorrow. He would not have asked what she was doing or probably even wondered. He was perfectly okay with not knowing. She dialed the phone.

“Hey,” Gary said. “There’s a Dan on office one for you.”

“Oh, good. Thanks.” She groaned. Perfect Dan timing. He had promised to call today. She supposed she should have guessed that he would call at exactly the worst possible time. She ducked into the kitchen and picked up the office line. “Hi Dan.”

“Hello Colleen. You’re about to get off work, aren’t you? I thought I could come by and pick you up for dinner.”

“I can’t tonight.”

“Oh?”

There were volumes in that mild question. “Yes. Oh.”

“Let me guess. The paramedic beat me to you.”

“Does it matter?”

“I guess not. You open again tomorrow, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Can I get dibs on dinner tomorrow then?”

“Trying to keep things even?”

Dan chuckled. Even with Mike waiting for her, the sound was thrilling. “I’m doin’ my best, darlin’. So, tomorrow night?”

“Yeah, tomorrow night. You can pick me up at my place about five. How’s that?”

“Perfect. Just out of curiosity, does he know about me?”

Colleen grimaced at the receiver. “Not yet, but he will by the end of the evening.”

“And you think I’m a Boy Scout. I’ll see you tomorrow night and you can tell me how he reacted.”

“Because no doubt you’ll get it out of me.”

“Why does it bother you that I’m so interested in you?” He didn’t sound defensive or annoyed, simply curious.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night, Dan.”

“Five sharp.”

“Goodbye.”

“Bye darlin’.”

Colleen hung up the phone. She wasn’t sure why she was so bothered by his interest either, but it seemed to have become part of her natural reaction to his questions. She walked out of the kitchen. Mike caught her eye and smiled. He didn’t ask any questions. He wouldn’t even ask who called. She sat down across the table from him. “Listen, I have to come clean about something.”

“Okay.” Mike said easily. He leaned forward without a trace of nervousness. “Shoot.”

“I’ve been dating another guy.”

“Okay.” Mike nodded. “So you don’t want to go out to dinner?”

“No, I want to go out with you. I just wanted you to know I was going out with someone else at the same time.” Colleen frowned. She expected him to be at least concerned. Dan had been concerned enough to grill her.

“Oh.” Mike leaned back in his seat. He looked into his coffee cup thoughtfully.

“Is that…okay?”

“Okay?” he repeated. “Sure. It’s a free country, isn’t it? I mean, I’m glad you told me. You’re a great girl. I guess I’m surprised there’s only one other guy.”

“Really?”

“Sure. You’re a lot of fun, Colleen, and I really like you. And it’s not like we’re in a serious relationship. We’ve only been out a couple of times.”

“I just wanted you to know. In case it changed things for you.”

He grinned. “Not a thing.” He drained his coffee cup. “Listen, I’m going to head home and change. I’ll meet you at your place about six. Is that good for you?”

“Perfect.” She smiled as he stood.

He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “See you in a little while.” He walked away whistling.