Chinese students adjust via noodles and New Year

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      The big black bag with wheels looked like it could carry a lot. With no shopping carts in sight, Jingyun Chen unzipped the bag he’d brought, grabbed the handles, and headed for the produce section.

      The 26-year-old SFU student and his friend, Yongmei Gong, were buying groceries for the week at T & T Supermarket in Metropolis at Metrotown. “T & T has a lot of Chinese ingredients: soy sauce, ginger, green onions,” Chen said in Mandarin.

      The brightly lit supermarket was adorned with glittering red decorations in anticipation of Chinese New Year on Sunday (February 18). Shelves displayed stacks of sticky-rice new-year cakes and the aisles were full of Sunday-afternoon shoppers.

      “I haven’t figured out what my tradition is yet,” Chen said. It’s his first Chinese New Year in B.C., and he doesn’t quite know what he’ll do to celebrate the biggest holiday of the Chinese calendar.

      Last fall, Chen came from Shanghai to start his PhD in engineering sciences at Simon Fraser. He’d already heard a lot about the city.

      Chen is not alone in his experience. This year, more than 850 students from Mainland China registered for graduate and undergraduate programs at SFU.

      It’s a significant increase from 2001, when less than 200 Mainland Chinese students enrolled in their programs.

      Add to that the numbers of Chinese students coming to the University of British Columbia (682 last year) and the dozens of private and ESL schools in the Lower Mainland (between 2001 and 2004, almost 13,000 Mainland Chinese studied in Vancouver).

      “Vancouver is very famous among the Chinese,” Chen said in English. “A lot of Chinese people come to Canada to live in Vancouver.”

      There has been a steady increase in their numbers over the past couple of decades, according to Henry Yu, a history professor at UBC who has studied Chinese migration. “Students want to come to North America because the degrees are valued.” Plus, he added, “There’s a desire on the university’s part to become more global.” And it doesn’t hurt that international students pay up to $16,000 tuition per year.

      Universities haven’t had to recruit much, he said, but ESL schools and private schools in the area do advertise abroad. They create a “pipeline system”, acting as feeders for the colleges and universities, Yu said.

      Before, the students came to Canadian schools looking for a way to stay in the country permanently. Now, Yu said, the Chinese economy is luring more students back. As China becomes better at accommodating the overwhelming demand for university spaces, Yu said, “You will see a dwindling of China as a source for students.”

      In the Lower Mainland, the Chinese population had reached almost 350,000 by 2001, according to that year’s census, with 70 percent of them born outside of Canada. Chen said that with so many Chinese- Canadians and Chinese immigrants already in the city, “It is a good place for Chinese people to live.”

      When he arrived, Chen said, he didn’t know anyone. Through a Chinese church fellowship at the university, he soon met Yongmei Gong and other Chinese students. They both live on-campus.

      Gong is a fourth-year PhD student in chemistry. She said she remembered sitting on the plane on her first trip to Vancouver, feeling nervous about arriving with no connections. But she was soon comforted by seeing and meeting so many Chinese people. Now she helps other newcomers.

      She also recalled finding rice noodles at T & T. “I was so happy,” she said. To her, the noodles were a little piece of Beijing, and it made Vancouver feel more like home.

      Even with these comforts close to campus, the lifestyle of an SFU graduate student is one that Chen is still getting used to. For one, he’s had to learn to shop and cook on his own. In China, while studying at Qinghua University, meals were included. “We can go to the dining room and pick up whatever we want.”

      Here, he said, most Chinese students will cook to save money. Some cook together, but most avoid the campus food, which he says is expensive and lacking in Chinese- cuisine options.

      “Ever since I come here, I have to take care of my own life,” Chen said. When he shops, he tries to go with experienced students like Gong. He leaned in as Gong examined a couple of plastic-wrapped lettuce stalks. The ones with the green centres mean they’re still fresh, she said. After she explained to Chen how to cook the stalks, he grabbed a couple to try. “If it’s cheap, I buy it, and if I don’t know how to make it, I get home and call my mom and ask,” Chen said, smiling.

      In his head, he still converts Canadian dollars to Chinese renminbi every time he takes out his wallet. The first few months after Gong arrived, she also did the mental math. But now when she’s in China, she said, she converts to Canadian currency.

      Even after four years here, Gong said she still hasn’t gotten used to eating western food, so every week she makes the trip to the grocery store.

      When the big black bag was half full of steamed buns, fish, juice, tofu, and soy milk, Chen and Gong headed for the checkout. “Okay, mission accomplished,” Chen said, grabbing his bag and wheeling it beside him.

      With the shopping done, Chen and Gong headed to the food court for a bite to eat.

      “One good thing about living here,” he said in Mandarin, “is that you get a chance to try foods from different countries.” Last week he sampled Greek, and on Sunday he decided to give Thai a try.

      Even if Chen hasn’t quite taken to western food, he does have praise for the education system. It’s more advanced than in China, he said, because there’s “more freedom” for students to pursue their interests.

      “The students here are more inspired.” Rather than working individually, as they do in China, the graduate students have regular meetings, where they get a chance to discuss their work. To make it easier for his non-Chinese colleagues, Chen has an English name. “They have a hard time pronouncing Yun,” he said. They say Young or You-in instead. When he arrived in Canada, he chose the name Josh because it means to joke. “It’s friendly.”

      But most of Chen’s friends are Chinese. He said he still feels more comfortable speaking in his first language. “After work, I prefer to stay with my Chinese friends because we can talk deeply.” It’s harder to communicate on more complex topics like spirituality, he added.

      It’s certainly not hard to meet other Chinese students, Gong said, but she realized it would be a good idea to make some English-speaking friends, to share cultures and learn about Canada. Sometimes, though, she feels they have less in common.

      “I feel we have different living styles.” A lot of the other students like shopping and pubs, she said. “I’m not a pub-y girl.” She said she prefers hiking and exploring.

      For Chinese New Year, Gong plans to make dumplings with her fellowship group and watch a special New Year broadcast from Beijing. And she’ll probably invite some new Chinese students over, she adds, since it’s likely their first year away from home and they won’t know many people. “I still haven’t thought of what dishes I’ll serve,” she said with a laugh. “It’s easier than I imagined,” Chen said, “because there are always people here to help.”

      That’s where James Li and Titi Zhong come in. They’re executives for the SFU Chinese Students and Scholars Association. Li, the club’s president, puts official membership at about 200. But he said, “Sometimes we consider all of the Chinese students and scholars as our members.”

      There are also student associations for Taiwanese and Hong Kong students, but this is the only one for students from Mainland China, said Zhong, one of the club’s vice presidents.

      Li is a PhD student in chemistry and Zhong is working on a graduate degree in criminology. In their spare time, they run the CSSA with a group of other undergraduate and graduate students.

      They’re sitting in Li’s office in the chemistry wing of the Shrum Science Centre. Piled on the desk is a large stack of red cards, invitations to the upcoming Chinese New Year party. Every year, the CSSA organizes two main events: the Chinese New Year party and the mid-autumn “moon” party.

      They also arrange hiking, ice-skating, and ski trips to Whistler, Li said. It’s a way for students to explore their new surroundings, but it also gives people a chance to connect when they’re far from home with few friends and family.

      The CSSA tries to get the word out early to students—even before they arrive in Vancouver. They post advertisements on on-line school bulletin boards, Li said. Its Web site (www.cssasfu.com/) provides a new-students guide and passport-extension information, and offers airport pickup service. Students can also ask questions and interact on the CSSA bulletin board.

      Twice a year, the club holds an orientation to show new students around the university. It also helps with housing. In China, students are automatically assigned to a dormitory, Zhong said. But in Vancouver, they have to fend for themselves.

      Once they’ve got the basics covered, the club’s next goal is to create social venues for the students. Back in China they have more friends and family nearby, Li explained. Here, the newcomers can get lonely.

      “We kind of have less fun here,” Li said.

      Zhong agreed. “Yeah, it’s boring here.” People [in Canada] like different activities like camping, an activity that is foreign to most Chinese students, she explained. “You get used to it,” she said, shrugging and smiling.

      They do have some activities in common, Li said, like badminton and running on the track. And people go to bars and clubs, just like they do in China.

      In the end, Zhong said, life in Vancouver isn’t so tough for Chinese students. “In Canada, you can keep your culture.”

      During the Chinese New Year, though, it can be hard for first-year students to find themselves so far from home. Most aren’t making the trek back because they have classes to attend and course work to do.

      Zhong hopes that a couple of hundred will attend the February 24 festivities at the SFU Image Theatre. They’re planning a night of singing, Chinese hip-hop dancing, and piano performances.

      “It’s like the whole family getting together,” she said.

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