In 1996, I received an exhilarating assignment from my American university to teach in an MBA program in Malaysia. The thought of embarking on such a grand adventure thrilled me. I was eager to explore a completely different part of the world, engage with diverse cultures, and interact with new people. I was particularly enchanted by the vibrant floral dresses worn by the local women and looked forward to purchasing one for myself.

I was meticulous about packing, aware that I would be teaching at a Muslim university where modest dress was the norm. Although it was understood that Americans wouldn’t necessarily conform to local dress codes, I still wanted to appear respectful. I opted for clothing with long sleeves and skirts that reached at least to my knees. Conversations with colleagues who had previously been there provided me with delightful stories and captivating photographs from their experiences. Shopping for new outfits was an exciting prelude to my journey, and I even shed a few pounds to look my best.

The flight to Malaysia took over 24 hours, a daunting prospect for someone like me who struggled to sleep on planes. My father had suggested a Japanese travel agent who could arrange a brief stop in Tokyo for sightseeing, which made the trip even more appealing. The idea of visiting both Japan and Malaysia filled me with a sense of adventure, making me feel as though I was living a glamorous life.

When the day finally arrived, I traveled a couple of weeks ahead of my teaching schedule to acclimatize. The journey to Japan felt torturous, with a 14-hour flight that left me exhausted and sore upon arrival. Stepping off the plane in Tokyo was a relief, and I was eager to explore.

One of the first challenges I faced in Japan was the language barrier; it was difficult to find English speakers. I made a mental note to arrange for an English-speaking guide if I returned. After checking into the tiniest hotel room I had ever seen—reminiscent of a cruise ship cabin—I ventured out to find something to eat. Struggling to navigate menus and communicate, I resorted to fast food at McDonald's, where pictures of meals made ordering easier. The bustling streets of Tokyo were overwhelming, and I was apprehensive about getting lost. I eventually decided to take the subway, hopping on random trains and getting off wherever I found something intriguing. This method allowed me to discover shops, parks, and galleries while keeping track of my route back.

Nights in my hotel room were lonely, devoid of internet entertainment, and the television offered little interest. Regrettably, I hadn’t packed a good book in the excitement of planning my trip.

After a few days, I boarded another plane for the nine to ten-hour flight to Malaysia. A colleague greeted me at the airport, and it was comforting to hear English again, though I still felt a sense of loneliness after a week of limited interaction.

Malaysia is home to three primary ethnic groups: the indigenous Malays, many of whom are Muslim and hold governmental positions; the Chinese, who often lead in business; and a smaller group of Indian ancestry. The university where I was teaching primarily catered to Muslim students.

Upon arriving in Malaysia, I quickly noticed a karaoke bar on the ground floor of my hotel. Given my love for singing and the desire to connect with others, I ventured inside, unsure of my attire. I wore a knee-length dress that resembled something an older woman might wear, paired with sandals and socks for comfort. Gathering my courage, I sat down and ordered a beer, observing a lively group of patrons laughing and singing together.

One man stood out as the life of the party, engaging everyone with his humor. After just a few minutes alone, he approached my table and invited me to join him and his friends. I accepted, discovering that his name was Ricky. When I asked about his English name, he explained that he had adopted it during his teenage years, though his real name was Kim Chuan. His first question was whether I was Amish, likely due to my unusual outfit. We shared a laugh over that.

Ricky's English was impressive but came with a thick accent that made it challenging for me to follow him in the noisy bar. Frustration led to laughter as I misinterpreted his words, turning our conversation into a comedic exchange. I found myself singing and enjoying the atmosphere, despite typically being an early sleeper.

Before long, Ricky asked me out the following day, and we quickly became inseparable. He showed me around Kuala Lumpur, and we frequented the karaoke bar, eventually forming a duet singing “California Dreamin’” by the Mamas and the Papas. I soon proposed the idea of him visiting the United States with me, and he agreed. We discussed marriage after only a few weeks together, contemplating a wedding in Malaysia but ultimately deciding to wait until we returned home.

Throughout my teaching assignment, I balanced work with my time spent with Ricky, making it one of the most enjoyable periods of my life. We traveled extensively and shared endless laughter. On weekends, he introduced me to his family, who welcomed me warmly. After ten weeks of teaching, I opted to extend my stay in Malaysia to explore further with Ricky.

At the time, Ricky worked as a salesman for a major wholesale book distributor, traveling across the country for sales calls. He invited me to join him on a trip to Borneo, and while my colleagues expressed concern, I ensured they had my travel details and informed my parents in the U.S. about my plans.

Our first stop in Borneo was Kuching, which means "cat" in Malay. I wish I still had photos of us in front of the large cat statue in the town center. We enjoyed a luxurious stay at a hotel frequented by the Sultan of Brunei, complete with a butler who gave us a tour of the Sultan's suite. The Cultural Village was a highlight, showcasing traditional and tribal homes along with a cultural performance featuring dancers and impressive dart-shooting feats.

Our time in Kuching felt like a honeymoon, despite our unmarried status. However, I began feeling unwell intermittently, which I dismissed as minor at the time.

Shortly after leaving Kuching, we flew to Brunei, a country I had only heard of in passing. There, I learned about the Sultan, whose images adorned many stores. I pondered the complexities of his having two wives, a concept that seemed foreign to me. I enjoyed our time at a hotel with a stunning swimming pool and a complimentary amusement park courtesy of the Sultan, passing the grand palace on the way.

We stayed at two more locations in Borneo: a beachfront hotel with breathtaking sunsets and a small town near the jungle. A visit to an orangutan preserve provided a thrilling experience, where I encountered the playful primates up close. The close proximity proved both exhilarating and alarming, especially when one grabbed my purse as I fled.

After our Borneo adventure, we returned to Kuala Lumpur to prepare for our journey home. By then, I felt a pang of homesickness for Ohio. Ricky's entire extended family came to the airport to bid us farewell, leaving me to wonder when we would see them again. As fate would have it, we returned to Malaysia two years later.

Upon returning home, Ricky began searching for work in our small college town, eventually securing a position selling advertising for a local newspaper—a job he still holds over twenty-five years later. We also initiated the process of obtaining a green card for him, with the help of an immigration lawyer, while planning a simple courthouse wedding with my parents as witnesses.

After returning, I took a pregnancy test, confirming what I suspected: I was expecting. I likely conceived during our time in Kuching, and the realization contributed to my homesickness. The news brought me joy, as I looked forward to becoming a mother.

My pregnancy was challenging, culminating in a five-week hospital stay, but my son, Christopher Blair Chan, was born prematurely at thirty weeks yet thrived. He now works as a nurse in Columbus, Ohio. Unfortunately, my marriage to Ricky lasted only a few years; he still resides in Ohio, near our son. Meanwhile, I am happily retired in Mexico.

Despite the dissolution of my marriage, I cherish the memories of my early relationship with Ricky in Malaysia and feel grateful for the wonderful son I have. Ultimately, everything turned out well.