Dragon Boats from Hong Kong to Berkeley
Hanson Yuan
Beep-beep-beep. Beep-beep-beep. I can barely open my eyes, but I manage to find the alarm in the darkness. Chills shoot down my spine the moment my feet touch the cold wooden floor. I carefully disconnect my phone from its charging cable and slide it into my pocket. As my hand finds the light switch and the bathroom light flicks on, a notification rings on my phone: “An Update to your UC Berkeley Application.” My eyes widen. Suddenly, I no longer feel tired. I bolt back into my room to open my computer. The portal stares back at me as I type in my login information, the blue and gold confetti showers when I click “view status,” and I yell in shock. In that moment, I became a Golden Bear. All the hard work of the previous four years had finally paid off.
When I lived in America, I was disconnected from Chinese culture. I was never interested in celebrating the Chinese New Year or Lunar Festival. One reason was because I never took the time to learn more about these traditions. Instead, I grew up with western, Christian celebrations like Christmas and Easter. The only time when I interacted with Chinese culture and language was at home. At school, I would be the only kid bringing dumplings and rice dishes. So, to fit in with the other kids, I started to ask my mom for sandwiches, pizza, and chicken nuggets instead. When my mom presented me with Tang Yuan on the Lantern Festival or Mooncakes on Mid-Autumn Festival, I would refuse to eat them. I thought that both Tang Yuan and Mooncakes looked weird and weren’t “American” enough for me.
Since moving to Hong Kong though, I’ve reconnected with Chinese culture. I learned about the significance of cultural foods and why certain festivals are held. For example, I learned that 端午节 (Duan Wu Jie) or the Dragon Boat Festival, something that I hadn’t even heard of before, celebrated the great poet Qu Yuan, and that Zongzi was the food associated with this day. When my family took me to Victoria Harbor to watch the Dragon Boat Racing on 端午节, I saw the same colorfully designed vessel that everyone else celebrated. I began to understand that there was a deeper part of me other than just the “Americanness,” and learned to feel proud of my “Asianess” as well. Hong Kong, a culturally heterogeneous space, became my safe haven, allowing me to explore both the western and eastern parts of me without feeling alienated.
Coming back to America, I realised that my new value system was not celebrated in the same respect. Even though Berkeley is one of the world’s most culturally and ethnically diverse universities in the world, the impression I had beforehand still kept me on edge. I attended a private international school throughout high school, so I was used to the student population being diverse but also small, rich, and exclusive. Berkeley is the complete opposite, there are people from all walks of life. At times, this felt quite exposing. Here, not many people could likely relate to my life as an international student from Hong Kong, and I felt uncomfortable to share that with others.
I called and video chatted with my parents on a regular basis, probably around four to six times a week, but seeing them on my phone screen just wasn’t the same as seeing them in person. My parents and my brother constantly reminded me of their love, but it’s hard to remember that when they are no longer present in my life. I fear that I missed something important in my little brother’s life — he’s six years old and his world is changing so fast. We had gotten especially close over the summer, when I spent most of my time at home with my family. We would spend whole days playing toys and games together. Sometimes, I sat on the bed while he drew on the table next to it. It’s those moments when I lost track of time that I remember most fondly. Even though he hasn’t always responded to me, it’s been great to see him every once in a while. At least the wait is only until next summer.
Two of my closest friends that I made here at Berkeley both went home for the weekend before Halloween. Moments before they left, I saw them carrying a big backpack and a heavy coat for the night. I assumed that they would be visiting the library or going to a club event, but when I asked them, they both replied with “I’m going home.” Instantly, my heart panged a bit. I wished I could still connect to my family the same way they can. When my roommate asked me what my winter plans are, I was reminded once again that I could not return home. Hong Kong’s three week quarantine rule shattered any hopes I had of returning home.
As I’ve adapted to Berkeley, I still find that there is a piece of me that longs for home. And I think that’s okay. It’s okay to feel at a loss and uncomfortable, especially when the change was so dramatic. I sometimes tell myself that the distance between me and my parents is just a part of growing up. The important thing is to keep moving forward and adapting myself to my surroundings, and make the environment around me my home as well. Whether that is from finding community and companionship in friends or even just decorating my dorm to make it feel like home, I’m learning to improve my independent life and the world around me. My parents, loved ones, family, etc. are all on the other side of the globe, I’m still getting by, and I’m starting to make Berkeley my own.