Nostalgia

Berkeley

A Collaborative Essay

There’s a common saying that you’ll know which college is right because “you’ll feel it.” I had assumed it was a figure of speech—how could someone make such a pivotal decision based on intuition? It seemed absurd, but there’s no other way to describe my first visit to campus.

I vividly remember the Campanile bells ringing, which resulted in waves of students pouring out of buildings. The campus felt alive, filled with people hurrying around, walking with purpose, and rushing to get to class on time. However, scattered within the frantic crowd were smaller groups of students standing around, laying in the grass, and sitting on benches to take a short break from the unending cycle of work.

Walking through campus reminded me of my high school, which produces a graduating class of around seven hundred students each year. I found comfort in the large, busy university because it felt familiar, despite being new to me. Therein lies its charm—an ordinary place that offers so much to be discovered. 

I adored the conglomeration of buildings that made up the campus because it felt like there was a character behind each one — a story unique to each building, rather than the stifling uniformity that other campuses exhibit.

Despite the dark, gloomy clouds hanging over Berkeley that day, I felt content, and I could only imagine what the campus would feel like on a warm, sunny day. I knew that I would soon return.

Words: Nicole Ru

My mother stared out the plane window for the entirety of our six-hour flight from Philadelphia to San Francisco. My whole family was seated in an airplane row, but the carryon luggage was all mine. Everything I needed for freshman year was packed into four check-in suitcases, a duffel bag, and a backpack. We took a route that is familiar to me now, after four semesters at Berkeley, dragging suitcases from the luggage claim to the AirTrain, then squeezing everything between the BART ticket readers before taking the yellow line across the San Francisco bay. The sun looked so red that evening, glowing through the dusty windows of the train car. I remember blasting a podcast from my headphones, desperately trying to drown out the BART screech.

From our hotel, we visited campus a few times before move-in. I took note of the buildings on the ride in, believing (incorrectly) that I would frequent every coffeeshop, every corner store, every museum. On our walk through campus, I only recognized the Valley Life Sciences Building from my initial visit in high school. My fleece jacket barely protected me from the August chill, a condition which worried me, as I had been eagerly looking forward to California heat. But the sun shone brightly into my sixth-floor dorm room, where we unpacked all four suitcases within an hour, leaving nothing but time for goodbyes.

Words: Anjika Pai

Three encounters with Berkeley, each one striking a chord. 
Pillars and Arches 

In my last year of middle school, I went on a field trip. After a one-hour commute, bunched shoulder to shoulder on BART, I stumbled onto Grinnell Pathway, the forestry entrance of the University of California. 

At first glance, the campus consisted of pieces from different puzzles. As if I was on a conveyor belt, at each turn, I was taken back by the astonishing details of neoclassicism, utilitarianism, modernism, and eclecticism–a grand welcome from Cal. Feeling a presence over me, I looked up to find the placement of the Greek goddess of wisdom hovering the main entrance of Doe Library. I drifted to the next grand building, all while avoiding the infamous seals around Memorial Glade. 

A place of history, beauty, and wisdom...seemingly an ancient ruin. 

Shoulders and Flyers 

In my last year of high school, I hopped on the subway once again for my own senior skip day. As it was mid-October, what could be a better idea than to work on college applications at one of the best public universities? Brilliant, really. 

I made myself comfortable in the Student Union, carefully blending in with the studious big kids. Although I did not make much progress on my application, I filled my tummy with a chai latte and a mochi muffin. After a few hours of productive aesthetic, I stepped out into the sun, flattened my blouse, and joined the bustle on Sproul. I kept my cool as I made my way through towering figures coming from all directions. Occasionally, I made brief eye contact with various club representatives, nodding and smiling mysteriously in response. 

That day, I was the imposter among us.

Grass and Creeks 

Matriculating to Berkeley, I packed my bags for move-in. From the window of my ride on College Avenue, I soaked in the air of East Bay and admired the cute one-story storefronts. 

After settling down in the dorms, I wandered onto campus, this time with a cloth mask replacing an imposter’s mask. Without the usual crowd, the campus presented a side I had never seen before. The flowing sound of streams accompanied my afternoon scroll. Zigzagging through pathways, I also noticed that the grass was no longer withering, a contrast from what I last remembered. 

My third visit, marked with a different shade of green and a new beginning. 

Words: Christina Kan

Photos: Christina Kan & Stephany Su