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The Math building - where dread intertwined with excitement. Also shout out to my Math TA for giving us candies after the last class (muito obrigada!)
On these dazzling days, the cherry blossom trees were in full bloom with cumulous fuschia clouds. Instead of wandering around, enjoying the rare weather Vancouver has to offer like I would've loved to, I had to lock in. With three hours of rocking on the SkyTrain and the 49 daily, then waiting for the bus while the chilly winds and downpours slapped, my wits were always on the edge during the first term. If you told me a mere eight months ago that I'd survive first year, I'd have shaken my head in disbelief. Thankfully, the misery of wrestling with five final exams ended last week. As soon as the gigantic digital clock ticked 6:00 PM, a big sigh of relief from over two hundred-something students writing the Physics 131 exam echoed across the vast SRC gym. And first year was done!
The first few weeks of the second term came with all of the chaos. As someone who never skipped a single class since September, I turned to staying home for two days on the first week of January because of the snow paralyzing the entire Metro Vancouver traffic system. It all started on that Thursday after my first Math discussion class when I stepped outside and saw a thin but very defined layer of snow covering the stairs. My thoughts of an exciting time came true as I sat on the 49 bus for the third hour, listening to the rattling sound of the brakes climbing the hill. After sleeping through a 14-hour black-out during the snowstorm, which I found easier than understanding that lecture on meiosis, I finally got back on track in the second week.
Despite having to suffer from the wrath of integral calculus and organic chemistry, I actually found this term slightly easier than the first. My first class was History 104: The Soviet Union and its Global Impact, the one course I had been waiting for even before starting UBC. My excitement was not wasted, as I enjoyed every single minute of grinding the ins and outs of 20th-century Soviet history, the Cold War, and the like (obviously not without rambling on the Vietnam War for my term paper). Next, there was a Chemistry class, this time with two professors: one for physical chemistry and one for organic chemistry. While my physical chemistry professor brightened up the class with his unbeatable humour, my organic chemistry professor was quieter but incredibly sweet, even while torturing students with hexagons. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, after struggling to stay awake in Physics, I would enjoy a breath of fresh air in Biology. Then came Math 101, which deserves an entire post on this blog alone. Despite its notoriety running deep on Reddit, I actually looked forward to the classes every week. The professor peppered the class with his iconic comical expressions, while the TA is a ray of sunshine. Without their support, I would've dropped out of the course long ago - as a complete brick who hadn't taken Math in three years, I'm not lying.
When not in class, I would try to take my mind off the insane workload by taking in the sights around me. During the snow days, I tread through the thickly covered path to the neighbourhood park to build a snowman almost six feet tall after an hour and a half ploughing the vast white expanse with my bare hands. Sometimes, I would be lucky to have the king desk at the Science Centre, where I could look over the bustling view in front of the Nest, from the green hill topped with cherry blossom trees swaying like pink cotton candies in the wind to the Hebb building, where students trickling out of the great auditorium chattered endlessly about their classes. If the weather was good enough, I would stay on campus a bit later to join some events, such as helping film a reality show video for a club, attending an orientation, or going for a lab tour - all while doubting my socializing skills.
Yet, with all the excitement happening on campus, nothing ever beats living my dream: meeting Viet Thanh Nguyen, the author of the Pulitzer-awarded book The Sympathizer (if you haven't checked it out, you're missing out half a life). The opportunity came in the most typical way you'd expect from a UBC student: browsing Reddit. One day, while on r/UBC, I came upon a post about someone asking if they would be able to meet Viet Thanh Nguyen after his talk at the Phil Lind Speaker Series. Thinking my eyes were still hallucinating from all the work, I searched the event up and somehow managed to get a ticket - for free! - for the event. Just two days later, after three hours of wrestling with Webwork under the dungeons of Koerner after class, I was ensconced in the plush seating at the Chan Centre, eyes dazzled with the spectacular chandeliers lining up the enormous hall. The event started with a speech from one of the event directors, then an introduction to Viet Thanh Nguyen, his work and achievements. As soon as the director announced "Please join me in welcoming Dr. Nguyen!" a surge of pride overflowed every bit of my veins. For the next two hours, the author captured the audience with his invincible wit and enthralling stories on the politics of America, especially how refugees have shaped the country. As a Vietnamese-Canadian who lives and breathes history, I could write for hours about Viet Thanh Nguyen's talk that night. Yet, none other than this quote profoundly resonates with me: "All wars are fought twice, the first time on the battlefield, the second time in memory," something to reflect on as April 30 is again coming.
Time flew by again, bringing me to the last day of class. In the morning, my History professor treated the entire class to coffee. I could imagine how confused the staff at the Loafe Café was as they saw a giant order of twenty-something drinks and a group of students blocking the way while awkwardly waiting for their drinks. It was one of the most memorable moments of my first year: instead of suffering from organic chemistry in the next class (which I luckily caught up on later), I enjoyed every second of rambling on history with my professor and classmates until high noon. After exchanging goodbyes to the class, I studied at my Collegia for the last time, where I had spent many hours in the first term making wild drink concoctions when not striking up a random conversation with a fellow student waiting for the microwave. The day ended with a sublime trip to Rain or Shine (malted chocolate ice cream forever!), then a tour around the Nitobe Garden with a few friends. Everything exuded an everlasting sense of tranquility, from the green carpet of grass speckled with fallen pink petals to the stoic stone lamps guarding the graceful schools of koi fish surrounding a group of students reflecting on the magical rollercoaster of first year.
My shelter (and to-go place for free food and coffee) from all the chaos here during my first months at UBC, Collegia truly lived up to its name, "a home away from home."
Despite past the peak of the cherry blossom season, the Nitobe Garden was still enchanting in its own way
Just like that, the rollercoaster ended, faster than how the R4 bus flashed before my eyes when I ran late for my morning classes. Now before me stretches what seems like an eternity before the first summer class in May. I'm glad to catch up on my sleep and old hobbies, such as jamming to Álvaro Soler's songs, sabotaging pâté sandwiches, and obviously ranting on this blog again, all while debating myself whether I should face the historical heatwave in Saigon. Still, I dearly miss the excitement of going to school. Till then, I will count the days when I can again run into TAs on the bus, spend ten minutes staring at an earthworm with my lab partner, or see two fire trucks at the Chemistry building a day before the midterm. Especially the last part.
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