The First Day of Research at Stanford

Memoir #1: The Journey to Find Myself Part 2: A Journey of Trial and Error – Research Practicing at Stanford University Recap August 31, 2024 – January 13, 2025

Part 2.1. The First Day at Stanford

Returning from Singapore, I hurriedly packed my belongings for the upcoming long business trip. This time, it would surely be more challenging, as the destination was a Western country with a completely different culture. I felt very fortunate to be hosted by Professor Sanmi Koyejo and Mr. Sang Truong during my time at Stanford. I owe them deep gratitude for giving me the opportunity to come to a school that had long been one of my biggest dreams during my student years. For someone like me—a first-generation student—setting foot in this university once seemed completely out of reach. This would likely be a long journey filled with countless challenges and a ton of things to learn.

Arriving at Tan Son Nhat Airport late at night, I sat waiting on the seats across from the check-in counters. I watched as crowds of people rushed to line up, moving back and forth in a hurry to catch their departures. Some, including myself, sat calmly on the benches, eyes gazing into the distance as if afraid to miss a single moment. Although the trip was originally planned to last only three months, I still felt a lingering sadness, like a child about to leave home for school for a long time. At that moment, I thought of my family, my teachers, and the people who loved me—the ones who had placed so much hope in me. I quietly told myself that no matter what, I had to complete this trip and return home safely.

Landing in San Francisco a little after 7 a.m., even though I had prepared both cash and bank cards, the Clipper card vending machine at the airport still left me bewildered. Damn it! What kind of confusing machine has that many buttons? After a while of carefully reading the instructions, I finally managed to buy a card to board the BART to the nearest CalTrain station. Thankfully, I had already arranged to meet up with Sang, and we boarded the same train to Palo Alto. This was our second time meeting in person. The weather that day was sunny and pleasantly cool. In the morning light, America revealed itself with a beauty that was both wild and modern. The scenery had a harmonious tone—not too glaring—yet it conveyed a sense of stability and long-standing development. On the train, we took the opportunity to chat casually. It had probably been a long time since our conversations weren’t just about optimization, expectations, or entropy.

Getting off at the Palo Alto station, we walked a stretch to reach the Trader Joe’s grocery store, located right on the edge of Stanford’s campus. There, for the first time, I had to learn how to think about ingredients to cook a complete meal by myself. It sounds like such a basic thing, but for someone like me who lived in dorms for four years, cooking an entire meal from scratch was a completely new experience, especially in a place where most of the products were unfamiliar. (Previously, I only helped my mom with small parts; I had never actually done it all on my own from A to Z.)

Why do all the vegetables here look so similar? There are way too many types of sauces and seasonings! What should I even buy? I wished someone could rescue me at that moment—otherwise, I’d probably be stuck in that store for another two hours. And yes, that someone turned out to be none other than the person who took the CalTrain ride with me earlier. Swift and efficient, he helped me pick out all the ingredients and spices I needed to cook a proper meal. And as you may have guessed, he was also the one who cooked our lunch that day. I still vividly remember the dish: stir-fried beef with mushrooms, baby corn, and green peas. At that moment, I thought to myself that if I could rate this chef, I’d give him five stars without hesitation.

After lunch, we headed off to pick up a used bicycle. I had asked Sang in advance to contact the seller, who happened to be a PhD student at the school, and I bought it for $150. Once we had the bike, Sang naturally became my tour guide, taking me around the campus. We dropped by Panda Express and ordered Fried Rice with Beijing Beef and Teriyaki Chicken, right after visiting the bike shop to buy a new helmet. From CERAS, Tresidder Memorial Union, and Memorial Church to the William Gates Building, we passed by the School of Medicine and eventually sat down on a bench next to the Paul G. Allen Building. My first impression of the university was just how massive the campus was—probably as big as several districts combined in Ho Chi Minh City. The weather was around 26°C, pleasantly cool (though to be honest, I still haven’t gotten used to the Fahrenheit system). Looking down Jane Stanford Way, we chatted about the culture and people here while taking a break, partly because we were both exhausted from nearly two hours of continuous cycling and walking.

After about 30 minutes, we went back to pick up the bike near the School of Medicine. After sitting under the sun for a while, the rear tire had gone flat without us noticing. It was probably because the inner tube was too old—the seller had never replaced it before. We had to return to the on-campus bike shop to replace the tire, but by then it was already around 3 PM on a weekend, so the staff told us the repair would have to wait until the next day. Fortunately, there was a better option: we could purchase a new tire and borrow the tools to do the replacement ourselves. And just like that, I unexpectedly became a bike mechanic. One day, I’ll tell my kids that their dad once replaced a bike tire without even watching a single YouTube tutorial.

You’d think the misfortune ended there, right? Nope. The universe decided that would be too smooth. The second disaster struck: the tire blew out on our way back to the apartment. Yep, a blowout. The reason? The bike shop had accidentally sold us a tire that was too small. So once again, we found ourselves returning to the bike shop for the third time in a single day to get a new tire. After explaining the situation, the shop owner kindly gave us the correct size free of charge. I suppose I should avoid going back there too often—the owner probably recognizes me by now. Thankfully, this time, the bike made it back to the apartment safe and sound.

That first day came to a gentle close once I was back at the apartment. After dinner, I got straight back to work that very evening. First experiences are always the most unforgettable. The memory of that day remains crystal clear every time I look back. Not just because of the stunning campus architecture—both classic and modern—but also because of those three trips to the bike shop (Liu Bei once made three visits to the thatched cottage of Zhuge Liang; I made three visits to the bike shop, haha). It was as if time had frozen at that moment—the kind of day I never imagined could ever happen in my life.