Chores, Chores, and More Chores

A friend two time zones away teaches me to use the oven over a videocall (and tells me that I’m cutting the capsicum all wrong). Another friend teaches me the basics of laundry (no, Neha, you’re not supposed to fill the entire cap with detergent). My roommate teaches me to make rice, sees my failed attempt and thankfully takes matters into her own hands. But then the awful moment comes when you’re on your own, and it’s you against whichever chore hell has chosen to unleash upon you, and you realize that friends and roommates can only do so much. The dishes? They’re waiting grimly in the sink for you.

The dishes don’t end. Neither does the cooking, the laundering, or the cleaning. Every tidy room is a room that will need vacuuming soon. Every dust bunny you vacuum is dust bunny you’re going to fill up the trash with. Every time you take the trash out, you track mud in with your shoes– and cue the vacuuming again. There is nothing like living on your own, thinking about what to make for dinner for the five hundredth time, to make you feel the protagonist of a time loop movie.

But (despite everything I have said so far), I’m not actually here to complain about the chores. What sometimes is monotony, at other times is rhythm. When the assignments pile up, when you’re tired after a long day at work, or when you’re missing home a little too much, the only thing you can muster the energy for is the dishes. So, you go to the sink and begin moving like clockwork. Turn on the tap. Pick up the easiest thing to wash– a spoon. Clean it with the sponge. Soap bubbles gather, run down with the water, seep into the drain. Rinse the spoon and put it on the side. Where there were once no clean dishes, now there is one. On a day that felt too heavy, you still made this happen. When it seemed like you couldn’t do anything, you still did this.

International students come here with big dreams, things they want to change. You might want to change your path in life or your family’s story. You might want to change the world. Someday you will make the difference you want. But some days, you will only be able to make a difference to your cluttered sink. And thank god, then, for that cluttered sink. It will always remind you to take life one dish at a time.

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Lunar New Year Abroad

I had never spent Lunar New Year away from home before. I consider it a special time for my family. We celebrate by eating hot pot and calling to catch up with the rest of our family back in Indonesia. It was a familiarity that I grew to love, and one I quickly grew to miss. I tried to ignore the pit in my stomach, but it was hard as I grew more homesick during my first year in Canada. The beauty about Vancouver, however, is its diversity. Growing up, I remember my food being made fun of for being strange when I brought it to school. Because of this, celebrating with a friend had never crossed my mind. Now, I was surrounded by people who understood my culture, and who grew up in households similar to mine. I kept my tradition of having hot pot and invited my best friend to join me. It was just the two of us, and we went to BigWay, so it wasn’t the most elaborate Lunar New Year celebration, but I cherished that moment of finally sharing my family tradition with a friend.

My second Lunar New Year alone I was a bit more comfortable, yet I still felt that pit in my stomach. Maybe it was homesickness or maybe it was missing celebrating with my family, but as I was whisked away to celebrate it was replaced with excitement. This year I had a more stable friend group filled with people who had very similar cultures to me. Being able to celebrate Lunar New Year with a bunch of friends that I loved and cherished seemed like a dream, yet I still miss celebrating with my family. That being said, I ended up making a new tradition  with my friends that I wouldn’t trade for the world. I’m quite excited to see where I end up this year, whether it be at another hot pot or something new. My friends always seem to have something up their sleeves, and I’m always there for the ride.

 

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How I Reconnected with my Hobbies

I was excited when I first moved to Vancouver. I looked forward to exploring a new city and seeing what it had to offer me. However, as the months went by, I realized that I had dropped almost all my old hobbies. Whether it was because I lost the facilities, money– mostly money– or time, I was restless, my days monotonous, and I knew I needed a change. But as a broke university student, where would I even begin?

I started with where I went almost every single day: my university, which surprised me with what it had to offer. The school had countless activities and clubs to participate in. I fell in love with going to figure drawing every Friday. I had lost time to draw due to the demands of my major, so I was happy to find something to help me draw consistently. It was also a nice way to wind down at the end of the week, and I made some lasting friendships. The Vancouver Public Library – a.k.a the VPL – offers lots of services too. Of course, it has books, but did you know that they also have musical instruments you can borrow? It satisfied my desire to play music and saved my wallet as I didn’t have to buy a whole instrument to try it out. However, I think the best thing was discovering the Hillcrest Community Centre. Skating was a big part of my life growing up, but I had to give it up after high school. To say the least, it’s an expensive sport. I didn’t realize how affordable it was at Hillcrest Rink until a friend invited me.

After nearly three years here, I hadn’t even known it existed. Now, I skate almost every Sunday for just $12 and that’s including rentals. Reconnecting with a childhood hobby has helped me feel more at home in the city – especially on a budget.

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Creating a Home Away from Home

Moving to a new country alone has been an exciting experience, however, I cannot deny that its been overwhelming. Everything around me was unfamiliar; the food was different, people did things differently, and even the smallest routines I was used to back home such as my walking route around my neighborhood or going to the local hangout spots had to be reconfigured to fit my new life. I felt out of place for a while and struggled to recognize myself in this new environment. As an international student trying to settle in, here is my guide to creating a familiar, comfortable space in a new environment.

When I first arrived in Canada, my dorm room felt painfully empty. Picture this scene: plain white walls, a small room, an empty desk, and a bed overlooking the wooded Northern landscape. In these first moments, I reflected on how even the view from the window was a different scene to my home country, as the tall, naked, trees stared back at me.

Nothing about my dorm felt like me, and I sat in the emptiness for a couple of hours as I grounded myself in this new reality. I remember unpacking later that night and placing a few small items that I brought from home; a framed picture of my family and a cozy blanket that my mom insisted I bring were the most prominent items I remember from this moment. These little things made a huge difference and continue to remind me of home on days when I feel out of place.

As the days went on, I soon realized that a lot of the emptiness I felt came from not having access to my usual hobbies or routines. Hanging out at familiar spots is a part of home life that I had so much appreciation for once I became an “outsider” in a new town. I had none of these comforts. At first, I spent most of my time in my dorm room, scrolling through social media and feeding my isolation with posts from people I left behind. Then, one day, I engaged with another international student in my apartment complex. That one interaction led me to meet new people and soon, I said yes to more campus activities – most notably, game nights. Amongst these activities, I have found myself drawn to more creative pursuits such as pottery, painting, baking, and have since attracted friends who also enjoy these activities.

Branching out and finding stable hobbies aided in forming new routines that now include more than just academic commitments. Creating a home away from home is not about replacing where you come from, it’s about creating a new home that caters to your environment. Bring things that bring you comfort but also open yourself to the new experiences that come with moving away. After doing this, I realized that this once unfamiliar place finally felt like home.

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A Cultural Perspective on Mental Health Support in BC

It is often difficult to verbalize my experiences as an international student. The most synonymous experience that comes into memory was walking into my university’s buffet-style cafeteria and trying to make sense of the unfamiliar dishes while everyone else breezed past me with their choices already in mind. The same theory can be applied to mental health. For many of us, it is not so much about how we feel, but about how we have been taught to think about what it means to feel “not okay.” In some cultures, the community itself is the safety net. This reigns true as my family back home served as a support for me, and I only realized this once the journey in British Columbia began. But in Western spaces, the approach is very different. It is heavily interwoven with personal responsibility which can sometimes feel isolating or just plain awkward for non-Westerners.

For some time, I did not quite know how to navigate it. What do you do when you are overwhelmed but the kind of support you need does not seem to exist? In these moments, I often reminisced on support that felt familiar to me, like late-night talks with my sisters or game nights with my family when they sensed that I needed it. These memories reinforced the lack of support I felt upon arrival in a seemingly different universe. Having conversations with other international students has let me know that although our experiences vary, the cultural disparity leaves a lot of students struggling to relate to current mental health service systems or hinders them from seeking support altogether.

Universities can address these challenges by fostering culturally inclusive mental health support. Step one? Recognize that all cultures have their unique perspectives and avoid grouping  all international students as one. We come from all corners of the world and have unique experiences to bring to British Columbia. We have stories to share just as much as the next person. I have found that just talking to another student who “gets it” can be a huge relief, thus reinforcing the need for cultural sensitivity amongst counselors so that these comforting feelings can translate into professional care. Sometimes it’s the little things that make a difference, and I know it is not impossible because I have seen universities get it right. Although I know it is a trial-and-error process, diversifying mental health options without making anyone feel pressured to fit into one box is possible. Universities that offer variety, not to dilute care itself but to ensure everyone has a path to healing often breed the best students. It is imperative to remember that cultural understanding does not have an endpoint, so a reform of mental health care is necessary as British Columbia becomes more diverse.

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