“In what world,” he chortles, eyes crinkling with his signature timeless, playful glow, “does a frat boy, superhacker, and chicken growing genius become best friends?”
I can’t help but laugh along.
As I lean back in my seat, I take in the view around me. Setting: Toronto rooftop. Smell: barbecuing skewers wafting upwards. I vehemently dislike this city. It’s rackety, the hygiene is subpar, and (sometimes) seems to be bustling with no destination in sight — but sitting back, watching these two incredible boys in front of me, seeing the flickering city lights — I catch myself holding onto this tiny, tiny segment of the city. Just a little. it’s one of those moments that you want to capture forever. In a photograph, perhaps.
But really — in what world does a frat boy/superhacker/chicken grower come together?
In a world created by the Cansbridge Fellowship Conference.
Those who know me know that I’ve spent the last half year going around the world, predominantly in Southeast Asia, and might be wondering why. I’ve hit Malaysia, Singapore, Thailand, Brunei, and Indonesia, and will soon be arriving in Japan (I promise I’m still a student — though you’ll find me outside the classroom more often than in one). Much of the travelling I’ve done has been part of the Cansbridge Fellowship experience, where I’ve taken up an internship in Asia to explore the vast innovation, culture, and lifestyle that is unique beyond Canada’s borders.
It’s hard to summarize what the Cansbridge experience entails, but the internship portion of the Fellowship includes a 10-week internship, self-organized (meaning I’ve been able to tap into the wackiest, most unexpected work experiences) and limited only by what you’re willing to try. Before taking off to Asia, you’re coupled with some of the most ingenuitive, creative, and explorative minds — students who are also astronauts-to-be, part-time racecar drivers, DJs, and, of course, superhackers and frat boys (hahaha).
The only downside of this Fellowship is how much you immensely miss the people you meet. Your heartstrings tug, as if reaching out to everyone one last time before you all jet off to different countries. Nearly everybody else is on the other side of the world, working in timezones out of Japan, Korea, Taiwan, and India — and I’m here in Canada (I’d completed my internship a few months prior). It’s ironic because the trials and tribulations that I hear from them now — smaller living spaces, higher temperatures, sore feet — are things that I’d experienced just a few months ago, but I would endure them all again in a heartbeat just to feel closer to what my friends are feeling. Funny, isn’t it?
I suppose the most important thing I’ve learned — or realized — is how expressive and visible true companionship looks like. Waking up at 6:00 am to take a call with a great friend before they go to sleep so they can rest before work the next day, handwriting a long letter to someone to the point where your hand feels like it’ll fall off — this is what it feels like to miss a person, or group of people, dearly, and to have a community so closely knit that you’re willing to put aside hours of sleep and time. For them.
There are some people I need to acknowledge for all of the above. My sincerest thanks goes to William Yu and the Yu family, who are the reason why Cansbridge exists in the first place. Thank you to the University of Toronto, especially the Faculty of Arts and Science and Professor Erica di Ruggiero, who continue to push and support me in so many academic intersections. The one and only Ali Masoumnia is the reason why I’m in Cansbridge in the first place — and our conversations walking around Daly City, the coastal view of the Golden Gate Bridge, and sitting on the warm SF lawns are some of the fondest memories I replay whenever I feel lonely. Thank you to my parents and my sister, who are always there to help me out of the most bizarre travel fiascos — no matter how many times I choose to impulsively fly. And of course, this wouldn’t be complete without thanking all the friends I made at the Fellowship — and a special shoutout goes to the coolest, dearest superhacker and frat boy I know (you know who you are).
Back to the rooftop. While they chatter about their contrasting photography accounts, I laugh to myself — to anyone from the outside looking in, oblivious to the (subjective) ingenuity and creativity we held in our brains, we looked like three absolute idiots, unable to control our laughter and bantering about the most juvenile topics of discussion (which I will leave open-ended for the reader’s interpretation). But the people in this community are like a durian fruit: unassuming, until you really crack the exterior and get to know the network at its core.
Fin.