I’ve always hated the “what’s your favourite X?” questions. They feel oddly intrusive, often asked with casual curiosity but loaded with expectation. And worse still, if you answer truthfully, they tend to reveal something personal—too personal, especially when the question comes from someone I barely know. I'd rather jump off a cliff than hand over a piece of my inner world like that. But just this once, I’ll break that pattern and share my favourite song of all time.
It’s usually difficult to pick a single favourite anything—so many great songs, voices, and lyrics out there. But for me, this one is easy. It is, was, and will always be What a Wonderful World by Louis Armstrong.
Beyond its beauty and hopeful message—and Louis’s soul-haunting, gravel-smooth voice—this song is deeply personal to me for another reason: it’s the first English song I ever understood. Allow me to explain.
The Obsession Begins
When I started high school (many moons ago), I also began to develop a serious interest in computers. I say “interest,” but I’m fairly certain my mother would call it an obsession—the kind that ignited the moment our first computer crossed the threshold of our home and landed in the room where I’d spend countless hours over the next few years.
I was fascinated by this machine. Not only that, but I wanted to understand it, to break it, to fix it, to master it. And I was learning quickly. Until I hit a wall: my English wasn’t good enough.
Most resources I needed were in English. Our school’s English classes were useless, and self-study wasn’t realistic back then—not without help. That’s when my uncle stepped in with a life-shaping offer.
He saw my passion, saw the beginnings of a career path forming, and offered to pay for me to attend a private English school—on two conditions. One: I had to attend every class and pass each level with excellent grades. Two: my new classes couldn’t hurt my regular school performance.
It was a generous offer. A turning point. But it wasn’t easy.
The English school held classes in the evening. That meant going to my regular school during the day, coming home late in the afternoon, then heading back out to the evening school. Afterward, I’d still need to finish homework—for both schools—before sleeping and doing it all again.
It was exhausting. Brutal, at times. But also strangely rewarding. Everything I’ve achieved since builds, in some way, on the support my uncle gave me and the effort I poured into those classes—including my favourite song.
First Class, First Song
Picture this: I’ve taken my uncle’s deal. I’m standing outside my first evening class, sweating, nerves tangled into knots, trying to find my words as I ask the headmaster where I’m supposed to go. He walks me to the classroom himself.
Panic. The room is packed. Maybe 40 students. A teacher who looks stern and focused—both traits that would’ve made anyone in my shoes feel about an inch tall.
I sit in the middle of the room, notebook and textbook awkwardly perched on my knees. I watch other students flipping pages, chatting like they belong here. My social anxiety started spiralling. Then the teacher walks to a cassette player, slides in a tape, presses play. And I hear this:
I see trees of green
Red roses too
I see them bloom
For me and you
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world
For the next few minutes, I forget the students, the fear, the awkwardness. I listen—really listen—to Louis’s voice. I try to catch every word I can, hanging on to each syllable like a lifeline. Then, the teacher snaps me out of my trance by asking me something about the song. Of course, I couldn’t answer. Cue embarrassment. Cue even more anxiety. But something had already shifted.
The teacher played the song a few more times. And with each play, I stopped obsessing over which words I did or didn’t understand. Instead, I started to feel. Something about Louis’s voice—the warmth, the weight, the joy in it—touched me deeply.
By the end of class, the anxiety had faded. I wasn’t thinking about the students or my fumbled answer any more. I had only one thought: I had to understand every word of this song. Not only that, but I had to know what it meant.
A New Obsession
When I got home, I ran to our computer. I googled the song, downloaded an MP3 from a sketchy site (don’t judge me—it was a different era), and played it a dozen times before my mum called me for dinner.
Over the next day or two, I hunched over a dictionary, looking up every word I didn’t understand. Line by line, I translated the lyrics until the whole meaning came into view. And something inside me clicked. That wasn’t just the first English song I understood. It was the first time English didn’t feel foreign—it felt alive. It felt like it belonged to me too.
Why It Still Matters
One of my favourite quotes is from Neil Gaiman’s American Gods. He writes:
“Fiction allows us to slide into these other heads, these other places, and look out through other eyes. And then in the tale we stop before we die, or we die vicariously and unharmed, and in the world beyond the tale we turn the page or close the book, and we resume our lives. A life that is, like any other, unlike any other.”
That quote has always stayed with me because it captures what art—a story, a book, a song—can do for us. And it’s precisely what "What a Wonderful World" did for me. It helped me see through someone else’s eyes. It grounded me. It lifted me. It told me, in the gentlest way possible, that things could be beautiful—even if only for a few minutes.
Even now, when I’m stressed or uncertain about life or career or the state of the world, I play that song. I let Louis’s voice transport me back to that old classroom, to my teenage self—nervous, hopeful, passionate. And more than anything, happy.
My Forever Favourite
I’ve listened to thousands of songs since then. I’ve discovered hundreds of artists—many of whom I now adore. But no voice, no song, has ever been able to stir within me what Louis Armstrong does when he sings What a Wonderful World. And that’s why it’s my forever favourite song.
In a world that often feels anything but wonderful, I encourage you to listen to Louis’s song. Let it remind you that, despite all the ugliness, there is still so much beauty. And that we can all do our part to make the world a little more wonderful.
I see friends shaking hands
Saying, “How do you do?”
They’re really saying
I love you