Under the willow shade

The Rose Garden in June with all of its glory, taken when the author was pretending that she had finished her 23 pages of problem sets

The long-awaited ending of the 3-week break between the last day of first year and my summer classes ended, meaning that the cycle repeated: waking up 3 hours before the first lecture, consuming too much Dalgona coffee, and feeling my brain fried after finishing problem sets at the end of each day. Thankfully, I only took one summer term, so I could manage to sit for 3 hours a day in the chasm of IKB, getting lost in the Golgi apparatus with the dimming lights, the professor's soothing voice, and the blasting AC with an occasional creak of a chair nearby. After struggling to stay awake in BIOL 200, I was more than grateful to take a walk around campus, starting from the grassy hill outside the Nest. Under the balmy June air, every building was brimming with life, with the Chemistry building covered with a dazzling rainbow carpet of azalea bushes and ivy sprawling down the wooden door. The fountain at the Martha Piper Plaza was flocked with students chatting and reading beside the sparkling jets of water, one time dyed blue to cheer on the Canucks (ahem). Under the shades of the oak trees down Main Mall, beside the dandelion-clad lawn of the Koerner Library, where the basement was deserted except probably the resident squirrel, the Math Building exulted a bucolic air. Streams of violet wisterias flowed down the grey wall at the exterior, a one-of-a-kind look ~~unbefitting to the agony bestowed upon the students inside.~~ Upon passing the willow cascading the Hennings Building, I was melting under the heat, with only a cup of lavender and honeycomb ice cream from Rain or Shine pulling me to the bus loop for home.

*Insert sleep-deprived appreciation to Dalgona coffee*

University Boulevard: The prettiest place to see azaleas and avoid speeding scooters

As if not drowning in summer classes wasn't enough, I squeezed in some time away from studying to apply for research positions - and heard back from one lab! Instead of performing fancy lab techniques in some mazelike building, I spent hours creating posters about genito-pelvic pain on Canvas and zoning out from staring too much at spreadsheets. Still, I was happy to learn something outside of the lecture hall. In mid-May, upon realizing that I was broke, I luckily got a writing gig from the campus newspaper as a senior staff. The pay aside, I really enjoyed interviewing people from all walks of life, hearing their amazing stories and journeys that contribute to a more colorful world. Sometimes, the Zoom screen was too dark, my voice too trembled, but I enjoyed every moment of work. I also made some friends from a volunteering event, where their sparks of humor and energy made my summer days shorter, even if only through a Zoom screen. My schedule was quickly filled up with more excitement outside of academics, adding some joy to the three hours of bracing from the bumpy 49 and R4 buses every day and learning if sauropods held their tails in that dreadful online Earth Sciences course.

Or better, convincing myself that I saw the Northern Lights (I actually missed it)

In the middle of May, I welcomed some family friends from Vietnam coming over. It was such a good time meeting them again while showing them around campus during the rare sunny days (but not for long before everyone's feet were aching). Besides visiting iconic landmarks like Stanley Park or Granville Island, we also explored the lesser-known gems like the idyllic fields near Dyke Road in Richmond, where stately mansions stood beside manicured lawns. On the weekends, we went to Tsawwassen Mills to enjoy their wild discounts on summer clothes (for the adults) and fried mango chicken (for me). In the afternoon, after clocking twenty-something thousand steps, we drove across the border to Point Roberts. A stark contrast to the endless lines of cars at Peace Arch when I came there last December, the Point Roberts border was empty except for a few sun-beaten trailers with a mix of Washington and BC license plates belonging to retirees heading to their summer homes. The sleepy little town bore many resemblances to Charlottetown, with children frolicking in the backyard of their colorful tile houses by the seaside, while the red brick building that served both as a town hall and community centers had a bulletin board filled with block BBQ announcements and senior dance nights. As the only café in town was closed by 4 PM, we had nothing to do but drive along the winding roads, where wild blackberry bushes roamed alongside the pebble trails to the beach. At the Lighthouse Marine Park (where ironically there was no lighthouse), I could see the sparkling waters of the Strait of Georgia. Time seemed to stop passing here, with the town deep in a mid-afternoon slumber except for a few scattered kayak rowers calling distantly. Breathing in the salty air, I felt an overwhelming nostalgia for PEI, the little island where I left a piece of my heart four years ago.

Forget-me-nots found along a sidewalk in Point Roberts

The ending of my summer classes also meant more frequent runs to the Tim Hortons near my house with my high school friends early in the morning. As always, we planned the walk at some ungodly hours but ended up meeting at 10 AM, chatting incessantly while navigating the rugged sidewalk clustered with some overgrown bushes on the way to the café. Although all sweaty by 11 AM, we never stopped being willing to play another round of cards under the fiery sun. When not haunting the Tims staff for another shot of vanilla syrup for my iced latte, I would count the white strawberry flowers peaking from the leaves in my front yard, which would later manage to turn into only one tiny half-eaten strawberry. When the heat subsided, I enjoyed taking long walks in the park, gazing at the growing sunflower plants shadowing the plots of turnips at the nearby elementary school, sometimes with the company of two little bunnies eyeing the tomato vines. As I watched the sky changing into the most majestic shades of pink and violet, with the summer wind breezing on my sunburnt face, I could smell the enticing scent of curry from the rows of houses behind and hear the cheery conversations of families and friends gathering for summer barbecues at home.

At least the mosquitoes didn't keep me lonely

Home. I've been so carried away with the workflow here that last summer felt like an eternity ago. Thousands of miles away across the ocean, in the blazing heat interrupted by incessant downpours, there always stands a city with motorbikes roaring day and night, a neighbourhood with a whitewashed church tower peacefully watching the houses, a balcony overflown with lush vines of orchids and petunias. And a family ready to welcome me not with hugs but endearing pats on the head and kisses "as if to breathe you inside."* Right, it's time to head back to Saigon, to home.

But not before surviving a 22-hour trip.

*A quote from Ocean Vuong's poem, Kissing in Vietnamese