Pourquoi Pas Moi — Vientiane, Laos | October 2008
“Terpsichore at Vientiane College ”
It’s the start of the last term of my first year at Vientiane College. I’m on my way to class, ready for the normally rather unexciting “Getting to know you” lesson. I open the door of room B8 and… there she sits: the impossible dream, my unreachable star! I don’t know what to do, I can hardly breathe. This wasn’t ever supposed to happen, she’s unreachable for a reason.
It all began last January. I had just started my new job, here at one of the more prestigious places to be a teacher in Laos. On the first day of work, I had come to the college early to prepare for class. Having parked my bike in the parking lot behind the main building, I sauntered toward the staff entry when, just ahead of me, I noticed a pair of long denim-clad legs crowned with a seductively swivelling bum, a phone casually positioned in the back pocket. They belonged to a young Lao woman making her way to the same door as me, probably a Teachers’ Assistant.
Above the periwinkle jeans, she was wearing a deceptively simple plain chocolate-brown t-shirt, just tight enough to flash a flat belly as she moved; what a standout style and flawless fit! I froze and watched her sunlit shoulder-length raven hair rhythmically swing back and forth as she waltzed a samba toward the door. Pure poetry in motion.
When she got to the door, she stopped and turned around, an ‘armoured bra’ stretching her t-shirt. Slowly she lifted her faux-Channel sunglasses, made eye contact and gave me the most glamorous, toothy smile imaginable; I felt star-crossed, hopelessly in love. As she disappeared through the doorway, I just stood there, turned to stone in a state of absolute awe.
This always happens to me. I get completely overwhelmed by a first impression and elevate the person in question to a god-like status. Even though we haven’t even met yet, this makes it impossible to become friends, let alone get romantically involved. It’s the story of my life.
Not that I was ever going to pursue her, of course. She looked much too young to begin with, and I’m also not so stupid as to have anything but a professional relationship with either coworkers or students. No, this young lady was going to be my Muse. I’ve always liked the idea of artists having a Muse, and now I had one: my own personal goddess to inspire my every move from now on.
Although I haven’t always been successful in hiding my infatuation, things have worked out reasonably well so far. She’s inspired me from a distance and I relish the warm smiles she gives me when we bump into each other at school. But now she’s sitting here right in front of me in a classroom too small for the both of us. What to do? I can hardly speak, I stutter.
This is not a problem I normally have. In the classroom I know my role and play it with confidence. Students have no idea about how shy I really am. But this is different, I don’t know my role anymore, I can’t teach my Muse!
Breathe in, breathe out, keep breathing it’s going to be fine, I tell myself. Perception is reality, she doesn’t know what’s going on in my mind. As far as she’s concerned, I’m just another teacher and she’s just another student.
With difficulty, I struggle through the one hour and twenty minutes a class at Vientiane College takes. I’m very aware of my racing heartbeat. Luckily she’s got the same nickname as one of the boys in the class, so in my mind I pretend to be talking to him when I address her and manage to avoid stuttering. This must be the first time I’m glad the Lao use the same uninspired nicknames for both boys and girls, it’s saving me from embarrassing myself.
But it’s still a struggle, every time any of the students speaks, I just hear an unintelligible noise. When she speaks, it’s like music, but equally unintelligible. My mind’s befuddled, I really have to concentrate to make things work.
Despite all the difficulties, I manage to make it through this first lesson in one piece, only 29 more to go! This is going to be a long term, but throughout this first class, I’ve discovered that my unreachable star is actually quite down-to-earth: maybe not a Muse, maybe she’s just real.
Mereva Galanter – Pourquoi Pas Moi [Single]. New York, USA: Warner Music. (2006)
This autobiographical sketch comes from my bundle In the Moment: A Disjointed Audiobiography which is available at Amazon.com. (USD 9.50 for a paperback or USD 4.50 for the Kindle version)
