Our school’s end-of-year party generally features a buffet dinner, a little entertainment and formal farewells to the departing staff. As one of the those departing staff members this year, I was dreading a sappy send-off. Usually I love being the center of attention, but not when the situation turns me into a blithering idiot. (The potential is always there, I know, but good-byes are particularly tricky.)

So when the farewells got under way at our party Saturday night, I tried to keep my mind otherwise occupied with catty remarks to my table mates, snuggles with a friend’s baby, and a trip to the bathroom. Another departing teacher, Terese, had a teary moment with the microphone that nearly broke my own emotional dam, but I held it together. Soon my picture popped up on the screen, and I knew there was no avoiding it. However, instead of the usual videotaped comments from friends and colleagues, my special GFs Carol and Nikki took the mics and announced they had a live farewell for Tony and me.

I quickly dashed back to my seat for the surprise performance. As the first notes of “Hotel California” floated from the speakers, I clapped with anticipation. That’s one of my signature karaoke numbers, which I have sung (badly) at many local restaurants and parties. I thought it would be a fitting final tribute, but no, it was even better than that. With the help of accomplished songstress Candice Broom, they had written new lyrics full of references to life here in Laos, special moments we’ve shared in Vientiane and plenty of inside jokes. They knew exactly what I needed: love and laughs, free of sob-inducing gushiness.

I was too thrilled and stunned to think of picking up my camera, but Tony took this photo. If I find out someone filmed it, I’ll post the video later.

Here are the lyrics:
Pinky Beef Pot (sung to the tune of Hotel California)
On a small lonely campus, humid breeze in my hair,
Warm smell of shrimp paste, rising up through the air.
Up ahead in the distance I saw a shimmering Wat.
My head grew sweaty and my clothes grew wet,
Thanks god I got my shot.
The students entered the doorway, I heard the late bell.
Then I was thinking to myself this could be Heaven or this could be Hell.
While I sipped on a Diet Coke, and tried to show them the way,
There were voices throughout the town; I thought I heard them say,
“Saibaidee to the restaurant Pinky Beef Pot
Such a lovely place
(Such a lovely place)
Such a lovely taste
Living it up at the restaurant Pinky Beef Pot
Organ meats and beer
(Organ meats and beer)
You can find it here.”
Her mind is PYP twisted, he’s got the DP bends.
They’re praying that India puts them on the financial mend.
Oh the noise in the courtyard, hide under the ‘squito net.
Some things you want to remember, some you have to forget.
So I called to the mei baan, “Please bring me my wine.”
The students make me so tired I go to sleep before 9.
And still mortgages are calling from far away,
Wake you up in the middle of the night just to hear them say,
“Lar con to the restaurant Pinky Beef Pot
Such a lovely place
(Such a lovely place)
Such a lovely taste
No more family nights at Pinky Beef Pot
What a nice surprise
(What a nice surprise)
Just wish they had French fries.”

Now, here it is again with explanatory notes and shameless plugs for old blog posts.
Pinky Beef Pot (sung to the tune of Hotel California)
On a small lonely campus (Vientiane International School), humid breeze in my hair.
Warm smell of shrimp paste (Southeast Asian staple ingredient), rising up through the air.
Up ahead in the distance I saw a shimmering Wat (that’s Lao for “temple,” and there’s one on every corner – see my Wat ‘O’ the Week posts).
My head grew sweaty (reference to the scorching heat) and my clothes grew wet (reference to the Pii Mai holiday, when the monks doused me with a hose – see the blog post Wat Watnak – or should I say “Wet” Watnak?),
Thanks god (we picked up the extra “s” from the Turks when we lived in Istanbul) I got my shot.
The students entered the doorway, I heard the late bell.
Then I was thinking to myself this could be Heaven or this could be Hell.
While I sipped on a Diet Coke (Tony’s cocktail of choice), and tried to show them the way,
There were voices throughout the town; I thought I heard them say,
“Saibaidee (“hello” in Lao) to the restaurant Pinky Beef Pot (one of our favorite Family Night destinations – see the blog post, Family Night – Pinky Beef Pot)
Such a lovely place
(Such a lovely place)
Such a lovely taste
Living it up at the restaurant Pinky Beef Pot
Organ meats and beer (self-explanatory, no?)
(Organ meats and beer)
You can find it here.”
Her mind is PYP twisted (Primary Years Programme – the convoluted elementary school curriculum framework of the International Baccalaureate Organization), he’s got the DP bends (Diploma Programme – the International Baccalaureate’s curriculum for grades 11 and 12).
They’re praying that India puts them on the financial mend (our new jobs at the American Embassy School in New Delhi, India, come with a big pay raise! Wahoo!).
Oh the noise in the courtyard, hide under the ‘squito net (don’t mess with Dengue Fever).
Some things you want to remember, some you have to forget.
So I called to the mei baan (Lao for “housekeeper,” although ours has never actually brought me a drink of any kind), “Please bring me my wine.”
The students make me so tired I go to sleep before 9 (true dat).
And still mortgages are calling from far away (investing in one of the most oppressed cities in the U.S. might not have been our most fiscally responsible decision … just sayin’),
Wake you up in the middle of the night just to hear them say,
“Lar con (“good-bye” in Lao) to the restaurant Pinky Beef Pot
Such a lovely place
(Such a lovely place)
Such a lovely taste
No more family nights at Pinky Beef Pot
What a nice surprise
(What a nice surprise)
Just wish they had French fries. (I loves me some French fries!)“

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