The summer before college, I did a lot of preparing. Through dinners with family and gatherings with friends, the stinging pain of saying goodbye eventually softened to a dull ache.

As August slipped away, my suitcase began to fill while my bedroom began to empty. In my spare time, I read the pre-read. I dug through my drawers and pulled out my passport, which hadn’t seen the light of day for the past two years. When I boarded the plane to Newark, I knew that everything that was within my control had been taken care of. Yet, even with all this preparation, the most daunting question still lingered in my mind — how am I going to make friends?

Unsurprisingly, my first semester at Princeton was absolute social chaos. Between the heavy workload and extracurricular meetings, it was hard to carve out time to create community. I often had meals with people, only to never see them again. I talked to people at events, only to forget their names within a week. More than anything, nobody seemed to measure up to the friends I had at home. And of course they didn’t — I was trying to mold these strangers into best friends within days without realizing that this “ideal” friend group I was so eager to recreate had taken years of care to cultivate.

So, I did what any reasonable introvert would do — I spent the rest of the semester lonely. Oddly enough, it was during this time of loneliness that I started to find friendship. Winter break left me stranded on campus in a climate I longed to leave. And so I did. I gathered the courage to text that friend I only hung out with twice, and a week later, we were somehow in Los Angeles. For Christmas, I caught COVID, and we traded our itinerary for eating takeout on opposite ends of our hotel room. It was during this time that I really felt at peace. Stuck with nothing to do, I learned to appreciate someone’s simple company on its own. And although I spent that week lamenting our abandoned plans and pretending I didn’t have a banging headache, it was then that I finally began to see others without trying to shape them into someone I knew from home.

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Spring found me spending my lunches in WuCox (a campus dining hall) at a table of engineering students (scary, I know). My one friend had extended into a whole group of friends. Even though we studied vastly different subjects, we found joy in doing the simple things in each others’ company. We grinded problem sets together and spent late nights rewriting our Writing Seminar papers in JRR (the Julius Romo Rabinowitz Building, which connects to the Louis A. Simpson International Building, home to the Davis International Center) — all the wonderfully chaotic first-year experiences. Outside of schoolwork, we screamed in support at each others’ performances (my friends are crazy cool dancers) and played card games over the weekends.

 

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When Spring Break rolled around, and the seasonal depression started to ease, I found myself on another trip, but this time with six others (and no COVID!). We spent that week visiting art museums, making a mess in the kitchen of our Airbnb, and eating copious amounts of Chinese food. As we walked through the streets of Philadelphia at night, I realized that I had come a long way since the fall semester. And while Princeton isn’t quite the same as home, I’ve started to carve out a special space for it in my heart.

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As an international student from Haiti, I have always been aware of my national identity, especially when traveling abroad. The first time I visited the United States, I realized how my Haitianness was not just a label, but had tangible and observable consequences for how I integrated spaces, how I was perceived and what kind of learning, unlearning and resistance I would have to perform. When I decided to commit to Princeton in April 2021, this awareness was front and center in my mind. Would I find my belonging without compromising who I was at my core? I wanted college to be a space for growth, but I didn't want that growth to come at the expense of my authentic self. I wasn't averse to challenging myself and being uncomfortable, but at what cost? I knew there were many affinity groups on campus that intersected with my national identity that would help me protect and nourish what I thought to be my identity. What I didn't know whether or where I would find a home. I carried these questions and doubts with me on the plane.

In the fall of my first year, I attended an event organized by the African Students Association (PASA). It was an event of delicious food, traditional board games, music and fantastic atmosphere! There were people from diverse backgrounds: first-generation immigrants, international students from the African continent or the diaspora, black students of all backgrounds, generational African-American students, and all those beautiful and complex intersectional identities. I immediately felt at home! I understood the humor, people laughed at my jokes, the music was engaging, the energy electrifying and the food seasoned. I felt seen and welcomed as part of a larger community. At that moment, my national identity made space for my other identities to be. I became part of something greater: a cultural community.

I experienced the same feeling over and over again. It was not just happening at PASA events. It happened at the movie nights organized by the Davis International Center. It happened again at study breaks with other first-generation low-income students. And again at the weekly dinners of the Society of African Internationals (SAIP). And again at the game nights organized by the Black Student Union (BSU). Over time, I came to see community, identity and belonging as dynamic concepts that can only be spoken of in plural. So far at Princeton, I have learned to see myself as more than Haitian. I have been encouraged to recognize and explore other aspects of myself. Other identities that make me who I am. I stopped chasing this single community where I would feel at home and instead welcomed the idea of ​​belonging through multiple communities and spaces. Thanks to a variety of student groups, only some of which I have officially joined (I am now the Vice-President of PASA), I was able to feel at home. Today, my Haitianness remains an extremely important part of who I am and of what drives me. Yet, I have found peace and joy in knowing and accepting that I am much more than that, however proud I am to be Haitian.

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I think people fail to emphasize the “broke” part of the phrase “broke college student.”

That is why I am writing this article: I was once you, young grasshopper. Now, I am happy to share what I have learned in my year of navigating Princeton and discovering the best ways to procure free and cheap things around campus. 

To start, here is a list of things I’ve gotten for free (or cheap) during my time at Princeton: a mountain bike, a bike helmet (to go along with the bike), a sewing machine, a six piece glass Tupperware set, an iron, clothes hangers, a mini fridge, a fake plant (which is thriving), a real plant (which started dying the minute I bought it), a saucer chair and multiple mirrors.

I do not list all of these things to flex (I just did), but rather to showcase what is possible.

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Here are the resources I’ve used:

1. TigerRetail

TigerRetail is a website where Princeton students can sell items they don’t want/need. If you pay attention to the listings, there are often items listed for free, or whole moving sales being advertised.

It is easy to fall into the trap of buying things I didn’t need just because it was a good deal, but otherwise I love TigerRetail.

2. Move-In Resale

At the beginning of each school year, Student Government puts on a resale event, where they sell second-hand dorm items. The only things to keep in mind are that the sale tends to sell out fast (so you need to stand in line at least 1-2 hours in advance) and if you intend to buy large furniture, make sure to bring people with you who can help you carry it.

3. Helping Seniors Move

Of COURSE you should help seniors/your friends move out of/into their dorms just out of the goodness of your heart. That said, it’s also a sweet bonus that while you are helping them move, you’re in the prime position to alleviate them of any items they may no longer need. 

4. Move-out

Move-out is the perfect time to score any of the bigger/more fragile dorm items (think mini-fridges, mirrors) if you’ll be staying on campus for the summer or you have a place to store them. The key here is to wait a couple weeks after people start sending “summer sale” emails if you want anything for free: eventually these dorm items will just be discarded all around campus and you will be able to take them for free.

5. The Free Food Listserv 

This listserv is a gift from the heavens. All it is an email list where people send out emails whenever there is free food being given away. Google “the Princeton freefood listserv” once you have a Princeton email to find instructions on how to subscribe.

 

I have two tips when it comes to these resources: First, negotiate, negotiate, NEGOTIATE! If an item on TigerRetail or someone’s student sale says that it is negotiable, don’t be ashamed to suggest a different price and see what happens. Second, when all else fails, ask around to any group chats you’re in to see if someone may be selling/giving away the item you desire.

 

That’s it from me, folks! Which of these resources are you most excited to utilize? If you end up using any of them to get free stuff, I’d love to know!

 

Tuesdays are my favorite day of the week. That is partly because I only have one class all day: my 10 AM Spanish class. It's also the day when I get to organize my time however I want, do as little or as much work as I feel like doing and lock myself in one of Firestone's cubicles to finally read a novel for fun. But all of these are just additional factors that contribute to my particular affection for Tuesdays. The real reason is that I have my first volleyball practice of the week on Tuesday evening, in Dillon Gym.

I am an Outside Hitter for the Men's Volleyball Club in Princeton. Twice a week (Tuesday and Thursday), about 20 of us get together to throw a few balls here and there and have a good time. This is definitely one of the highlights of my time at Princeton so far and one of my favorite extracurriculars.

I started playing volleyball nine years ago. I took part in several volleyball tournaments for my high school, was team captain and even trained with the Haitian National Under 16 team in 2018. After the end of the season, however, I stopped playing competitive volleyball due to socio-political problems in my country. Soon thereafter, the pandemic started. As a result, I went from 10 training sessions per week to occasionally hitting a beach volleyball two or three times per semester for almost eighteen months.

When I decided to join Princeton, I knew I wanted to continue with the activities that brought me joy. Volleyball was one of them. However, I was worried that I would not be prepared to walk on the official varsity school team, especially after such a long break. Also, I was not sure the level of commitment required by varsity teams generally aligned with my professional and social aspirations at Princeton. I love volleyball. However, I was only doing it for fun. I wanted to leave time to explore other interests and pursue other passions in college. It was then that I was told about the Men's Volleyball Club and I immediately knew that it was going to be the right level for me.

Upon joining the team, I realized that there were a lot of people like me, who had played volleyball in high school and desired to continue at Princeton in a competitive setting, but with a lower level of commitment than varsity. Participating in the club is first and foremost an opportunity to play a sport that they love and stay physically and mentally healthy. Personally, after a long day, the only thing I often look forward to is hitting a few balls over the net, playing a few sets with my teammates and even shouting the exhilarating "1,2,3… Tigers!" at the end of practice. Volleyball helps me de-stress and forget about my academic responsibilities for a while. At the same time, it also helps me be much more productive in the long run. More than anything, the volleyball club ended up becoming a community where I feel safe. I have forged friendships with my teammates around our common interests and passions. Even off the pitch, we always find time to crack a solid joke! 

There is a wide variety of extracurricular groups in Princeton covering all interests, ranging from the most common ones (like dance companies or chess clubs) to the more specific ones (like bad movie viewers or chocolate makers). There are even affinity groups, like the African Student Association or the Black Student Union. And if a group is missing, you can always create one (I personally know the founder and the only member of the Princeton Macedonian Association)! Ultimately, Princeton fosters the pursuit of a sense of belonging on campus by interacting with people who share similar interests and a common vision. For me, it was through volleyball. For you, it can be through anything. Start envisioning it now!

The other day, I was writing my Spanish homework in my room when my roommate, Jose, who was taking a nap, woke up suddenly. He then looked at the screen of his phone and quickly got up from his bed, letting out a sigh that denoted his distress:

Late meal is almost over, he said nervously as he rushed out of the room.

Confused, I stared at him from over my computer. I never understood his obsession with late meal. Late meal is a term used to describe an option offered by Campus Dining to students enrolled in the meal plan. Essentially, each student has access to two $8 credits: one for late lunch and another for late dinner. Technically, it’s meant for students who miss regular dining hours in the cafeterias because of classes or meetings. Late meal prevents them from starving. However, the way my roommate religiously got late meal seemed unusual (or so I thought) and left me deeply puzzled. For some context, Frist (where late meal is served) is located around 12 minutes away from Forbes (our Res College). Yet, he would sometimes purposely skip dining hall meals to go to Frist, braving the cold winter night. Worse: sometimes he would first eat at Forbes, and later, go for doubles at late meal! Seriously, why so much dedication? That day, I decided to elucidate that mystery and ask him point-blank what was up with him after he had gotten his meal.

Jose came back one hour later. I didn't even let him unwrap his chicken quesadilla and fries: I instantly bombarded him with the question that had been tormenting me to the point that I had been unable to focus on my assignment.

Why do you go through so much trouble for late meal? I asked.

He stared back at me, deeply offended by my question. "How dare you?" his face flushed with indignation. He asked as though he was too obfuscated to even utter a word.  My question seemed to have troubled him to his core. It was 50 degrees inside yet he was sweating profusely. He stared at me a little longer, trying to figure out if I was serious and whether I deserved an answer. He took off his coat while I stood still, waiting impatiently for his answer. Finally, he enlightened me on the foundation of his obsession.

That night, he unraveled the mystery of his love for late meal. At that time, everything seemed to come together. It all made sense. 

Jose first confided in me that he was often not hungry during the usual opening hours of the cafeterias so he preferred to wait until late meal, when he was sure he would be starving. Additionally, the consistency of Frist's menu assured him he would like what he ordered. He also had more choices. Whether he got a quesadilla, a burger, sushi, chicken tenders, fries or onion rings… he knew he would never be disappointed. He would sometimes be pleasantly surprised with a new addition to the menu: spring rolls, dumplings or pizza. Some days, when he just wanted to snack or grab something to take home for the night to help him push through his intense two o'clock reading sessions, he would only grab a bag of chips, chocolate chip cookies and a muffin. If that day he felt like eating healthily, he would grab a box of green grapes and one fresh banana. As long as the total was under 8 dollars: he could have them all. For free! Finally, and perhaps the main reason for his obsession, was that late meal was a unique opportunity to socialize.  Frist is already the center of student life at Princeton.  On a normal day, you find student groups promoting their dance shows, aspiring engineers working on P-sets together, Philosophy majors conversing about the meaning of life or Econ majors playing table tennis or billiards... etc. Add food to the combo and you have the exciting, vibrant and engaging environment of late meal. For Jose, late meal is one of the best things about Princeton!

 

After that conversation, I never again saw late meal the same way. My life truly changed. Forever. And my eating schedule as well!

The best three hours of my week, each week, are spent in a dark, poorly-ventilated basement in Bloomberg Hall, in a room with old garage-sale couches and a leather chair that plasters the seat of your pants with leather strips that have peeled off the seat.

Of course, there’s also a fourteen-channel control board and a collection of six thousand vinyl records, countless CDs, and a healthy mix of cassette tapes thrown in. I’m talking about the three hours each week I spend doing a show for WPRB, Princeton’s very own community-supported, independent radio. On Tuesdays from 8-11 p.m., I spin three hours of (depending on who you ask) the best or the worst sounds ever to grace the airwaves of New Jersey and Philadelphia: noise rock, coldwave, spoken word poetry, ambient, dance-punk, drone, industrial techno, grindcore and more. It’s a happy little piece of time I’ve carved out for myself each week, totally devoid of anything academic.

The station, which we refer to as “New Jersey’s Only,” is independent of the university itself, instead supporting itself via membership drives with monthly and recurring donations. I joined in the fall of my sophomore year, after training to be a DJ the preceding spring, and WPRB quickly subsumed my other extracurriculars to be the one that (enjoyably) took up most of my time. Listening to music has always been a big part of my life, but my involvement with the station took it to another level. Being responsible for three hours of interesting radio each week means I need to find three hours of music I’m excited about, every week, to share with listeners on air.

WPRB’s broadcast radius reaches into the heart of Philadelphia, giving the students at Princeton who are DJs (who only make up a little more than half of PRB’s programming) a unique opportunity to break out of the orange bubble and interact with folks other than the usual assortment of students, professors and staff we see every day on campus. When I go to concerts in WPRB attire, or otherwise leave the campus community, it’s not uncommon for listeners to recognize our logo and ask me about the station.

The best extracurriculars are ones that give you a sense of community and fulfilled-ness outside of your academic life. For me, WPRB has been important in both regards. Some very close friends are radio friends, and I rarely feel like the work I do for the station is tiresome or stressful — even when it can be a time commitment. Plus, we have some of the best merch on campus … which is always a perk.

On a recent Friday, as I was walking back from Cannon Green with my friend Kelvin, I was approached by a curious graduate student. "Do you know what's going on over there?" he asked, referencing the festivities on Cannon Green.

"It's Declaration Day," I replied. "The Class of '24 announced their majors, so they're taking photos in their class sweaters in front of the banners for their majors."

"Wow," he said. "That's so extra."

I laughed and chatted a bit more with him before walking away. It occurred to me that the Princeton Declaration Day tradition is peculiar and maybe a little "extra," but it was enjoyable nonetheless. In the spring of their sophomore year, students receive a black knit sweater with their class year in knitted orange block letters. On "Declaration Day," after all students have declared their concentrations, students gather on Cannon Green behind Nassau Hall to pose for photographs in front of the banner of their department. Engineering (B.S.E) students declare their concentrations midway through their second semester, but Declaration Day occurs after arts and sciences (A.B) students declare, which is midway through their third semester. 

I applied to Princeton as a Civil and Environmental Engineering major, and CEE indeed ended up being the department I'm concentrating in. After taking several classes and conducting research in the department, I knew that tackling environmental engineering problems is what I'm most passionate and excited about. My experience is by no means common, though, as many students decide to concentrate in an area other than what they anticipated when they applied. The first semester and a half (for B.S.E students) or three and a half semesters (for A.B students) gives you a chance to try out classes in several departments and see what piques your interest. A friend of mine who anticipated majoring in CEE discovered she really enjoyed coding and decided to be a Computer Science major, for instance, while another friend took classes in both the Physics and CEE departments during his first several semesters to get a feel for both.

Even after you declare, though, it's somewhat surprising how many choices you have in your schedule to select classes outside of your department. I generally have about two to three required classes for my major per semester, and then I can choose two to three others to fill my humanities and social sciences requirements or work towards certificates (minors). Next semester, for instance, I'm planning to take a French conversation course (which will fulfill a social sciences requirement) and take an environmental chemistry course (which will count towards my Sustainable Energy certificate). So while I really like being a part of the CEE department and taking CEE classes (which are generally my favorite courses), it's nice that I still get to experience other departments during my time at Princeton.

"Dec Day" might have been a little extra, but it was a lovely moment where we could imagine what we'll do in the future with our CEE knowledge and training.

I thought I would share what a day in my life looks like when I have a packed schedule of extracurriculars, socializing and schoolwork! 

7:45 a.m.

I don’t normally wake up this early, but I have a lot of morning classes this semester so I take the time to get breakfast and study for my Japanese quiz!

 

8:30 a.m.

My first class of the day is “Introduction  to Digital Humanities,” which is the class I am taking for my Quantitative and Computational Reasoning distribution requirement, even though it’s an English class! We’re learning about the intersection of digital media and the humanities, and I love how I am able to take a wide range of non-conventional classes to fulfill my distribution requirements.

 

10:00 a.m.

My second class is Japanese, of which I am in my second year. Starting a new language at Princeton is undoubtedly a challenge, as classes meet every day, but each class is structured around time for grammar, speaking, and writing practice, which makes all the hours you have to put in worth it. 

 

11:00 a.m.

I then head over to do work in the eating club I’m a member of, where I am supposed to meet a friend for lunch and study together after. As a sophomore, we get two meals per week at our eating club, which is a great way to integrate ourselves into a community we will soon be fully immersed in next semester. Each eating club at Princeton has its own library, so I just did readings for my seminar later today there. 

 

1:30 p.m.

I had my final class of the day, “Everyday Life in Mao’s China.” This is my favorite class this semester, where we are taking a ground-level view of how the lives of everyday people were impacted by the various changes during the Mao era. Seminars at Princeton are usually three hours long with around fifteen people, though mine is capped at nineteen because so many people were interested in taking it. 

 

4:30 p.m.

I went to Coffee Club, a student run cafe located in Campus Club to grab coffee with a friend and work on my Japanese homework. Coffee Club has new seasonal drinks every month or so, so I got to try their lavender latte (last month they had raspberry matcha as a specialty). 

 

6:00 p.m.

Dinner time! I went to dinner at my eating club, where every Thursday night is a member’s night. I got to sit with my friends and catch up on what they did over spring break while also meeting seniors in the club I had never met before. 

 

9:00 p.m.

My a cappella group was performing at a show for Princeton’s East Asian dance company, Triple 8, so we met near the dressing room at the theater to rehearse beforehand. 

 

10:00 p.m.

After my performance, I went back to Firestone Library, my favorite library, to do work. I normally leave the library around midnight and go straight to sleep. 

College life is inherently social: you attend classes and precepts with your friends, meet with study groups to solve problem sets, and see others daily in the dining halls and dorms. It's easy, though, to become consumed with your studies and forget to make time to simply enjoy recreational time with your friends. This is one reason that the Undergraduate Student Government (USG) organizes social events designed to encourage students to gather and take breaks from their coursework. My favorite event so far has been one organized specifically for my class, the Class of 2024.

Most members of my class year graduated high school in 2020, when proms and graduation ceremonies were canceled due to the beginning of the pandemic. Given the hardships that frontline workers were experiencing during those early pandemic months, I didn't consider a canceled prom to be a major tragedy. I was still, though, fairly disappointed to miss the opportunity to dress up in order to gather and dance for an evening. So when the 2024 class officers announced that they'd be holding a "redemption prom" for our class, I became excited to think that I'd have the chance after all.

Not so fast, however. The event was originally scheduled for December, but an uptick in Covid cases meant that it had to be postponed. But when a new date in March was announced, I had my fingers crossed that the third time would be the charm. Fortunately the event was able to be held as scheduled on the March date! It was held in Prospect House, a beautiful 19th-century home overlooking Prospect Garden. The event started at 9 p.m., but I got ready in the early evening in order to take photographs with my friends before the sun set. We met in scenic Firestone plaza, and my date surprised me with roses and a corsage!

The theme of the event was Secret Garden, and Prospect House was decorated accordingly with gnomes and mushrooms. People mingled about and munched on hors d'oeuvres for the first hour, and then they began to migrate to the dance floor. I was nervous that other people would be too self-conscious to dance, but I was pleasantly surprised to find that nearly everyone joined in.

The event occured during a busy time around mid-semester, so it provided a much-needed study break to let off some steam in between problem sets, exams and papers. It was a lovely evening of laughter and dancing with my friends, and I'm so grateful to have (finally) had the chance.

By the time I submitted my final college application, I was exhausted. I was excited about  college (and excited about Princeton, once I was admitted and later enrolled), but the thought of  another four years of physics equations and research papers made me apprehensive. I started spending a lot of time on the Novogratz Bridge Year website, looking at photos of smiling participants and reading about a year of trekking and service and living abroad.  

When deciding whether or not I wanted to apply to Princeton’s Novogratz Bridge Year program, one of my major hang-ups was about my high school friends. I adored them, and they were all about to go to college — to choose a major, attend dorm parties and bond with roommates— and I wasn’t sure if I could do something so different from them. It would mean that I graduated a year later from them and that I wouldn’t be able to come home for breaks. At some level, it meant that I wouldn’t be able to relate to them and they wouldn’t be able to relate to me.  

I was so worried about this that I almost didn’t apply to the program in Senegal. When I did, and I was accepted, my excitement was tempered slightly by these fears. I spent the summer before I left buying a bug hut, googling Senegalese music, and trying not to feel left out as my friends picked out their classes. I don’t know if my 18-year-old self would be surprised by this or not, but those fears pretty much all came true. I kept missing the group FaceTimes because I was in a different time zone; I cried when I saw photos of all my friends together at Thanksgiving; I had a hard time connecting with them when I came home the following summer.  

 

I don’t mean to say that I lost my high school friends — I am still incredibly close with many of  them, and I love now being able to trade stories about our professors and our college friends. In  some ways, my friendships with them are stronger than they ever were. Maybe if I hadn’t gone away, we wouldn’t be friends at all now. But choosing to take a gap year separated me from them  in ways that I still haven’t fully moved past. This separation very likely might have happened  anyway, as we all went to different schools and studied different things. But it felt unique to me,  as perhaps it does to everyone. At the very least, I was the first one to separate, and I didn’t get to  ease into it over the course of the semester or the year. Once I left, I was gone.  

Despite this loss — and it does still feel in many ways like a loss, as grateful as I am for my  continued friendships — I wouldn’t change my decision for the world. Before I left for Senegal I was so focused on what I stood to lose that I had a hard time picturing what I had to gain. That makes sense: what you might lose is real and tangible, while what you might gain is abstract and largely unknown. It wasn’t until I was there that I realized that the choice I had made was worth it.

Now, I wouldn’t trade any of it: picking up my little homestay brother from school, or making  pancakes on top of a mountain for my friend’s birthday, or running along the beach and through  the waves, or drinking cold bissap after finishing some hot ceebujen, or reading in the backseat of long and dusty bus rides, or carving watermelons for Halloween with my homestay family, or  eating beignets and oranges on the side of the road with my friends, or hiking past baobab trees, or returning to hold my godchildren for the first time. I wouldn’t trade a single one of those things.  

 

I spent that year living a life very different than the one I had grown used to. I worked at an  organization called Empire des Enfants, a shelter for boys who had been living and begging on  the streets, and learned how I could live a life of service even when I wasn’t “doing service.” I  spent my days taking the bus to work and then coming home for lunch before heading off to  language class. On the weekends, I swam to beautiful islands with my group and watched tv with  my little brothers. Slowly, I was able to make new friends and form new communities. They  looked different than the ones I had before, but I began to feel at home in a new place. I promise  you, what you have to gain is wonderful.