When Aleksandra Stryjska—the world knows her simply as Ola—finally landed in Shanghai on the last day of January 2023, just as international students were once again allowed to enter China after years of COVID restrictions, she imagined dragons drumming through streets, red lanterns bobbing above steaming dumpling stalls. Instead, she stepped into a city caught in its breath.
“It was the worst idea possible,” she said with a wry smile, remembering how every shop was shuttered for the Chinese New Year holiday.
No bedding. No SIM card. No bank account. Not even a working heater in her temporary off‑campus apartment.
Hunger drove her to the only open sign she could find—McDonald’s. The cashier shook her head at Ola’s foreign credit card, and Ola’s last slice of optimism wobbled—until the woman reached over the register.
“I see you’re hungry. It’s Chinese New Year. I will pay for you.” The woman’s generosity became Ola’s first lesson in the quiet power of Chinese hospitality, a moment that would anchor her through every cultural headwind to come.
Now graduating from Duke Kunshan University with a major in Molecular Bioscience (track in Biogeochemistry), Ola’s life has always been an experiment full of twists, surprises and serendipity.
A Polish teen and Asian roommates in a German boarding school
Ola grew up in a small town of roughly 2,000 people tucked against Poland’s western border. Home meant dense forests, where she foraged mushrooms with her parents and watched rivers glint between pines. As a teenager, she enrolled in a German international boarding school, confident she would room with fellow Poles. A random room assignment at the school placed her in the “Asian” dorm, sparking an unexpected love for Asian culture and friendships.
“At first, I was mad because I wanted to live with Polish students,” she said. “I didn’t even speak English at the time. My German was poor, and I was very anxious about it.”
The anxiety didn’t last. Her first roommate was Chinese; her second, Vietnamese. Within months, Ola was trading chopstick lessons for Polish tongue‑twisters and embracing kimchi alongside pierogi. After that year, she was given the option to move to the “Polish” dorm, but she chose to stay in the Asian dorm for the rest of high school. By graduation, most of her closest friends hailed from China, Vietnam, and Korea.
One checkbox, three continents, and a life rewritten
Armed with an “American dream,” Ola applied to UC Berkeley, the University of Toronto, and Duke University. Duke’s application included a single line: would she like her file forwarded to its Chinese sister campus, Duke Kunshan University? She ticked the box without blinking. Acceptances landed. Berkeley dazzled with rankings; Toronto dangled a full scholarship. Yet Duke Kunshan whispered of Asia, of those high‑school friendships, of a chance to merge East and West.
“I had this American dream, but DKU allowed me to fulfill that while also reconnecting with Asia,” Ola said.
COVID delayed Chinese visas, so instead of heading to the East, she continued westward and spent her freshman year at Duke University in the U.S. But as soon as China opened its borders, Ola eagerly made her way to Kunshan.
Major in molecules, heart in the human brain
Officially, Ola will cross DKU’s stage with a B.S. in Molecular Bioscience (Biogeochemistry)—one of the most efficient routes for a pre‑med checklist. But her academic heartbeat drums elsewhere: neuroscience. Her summer project with chemist Prof. Floyd Beckford and biologist Prof. Anastasia Tsigkou synthesized metal complexes that could one day fight cancer. Impressive, yes, but it was her Signature Work under Prof. Eric Tam that lit the fuse.
Together they asked a cosmic question: How would the 24‑hour‑39‑minute day on Mars scramble a human brain? Using animal models under “Martian” light cycles, Ola documented shifts in sleep architecture and circadian gene expression.
“Even though the Mars day is only about 0.6 hours longer, it actually impacts biological rhythms,” she said, eyes sparking. A future Ph.D. in circadian neuroscience now hovers on her horizon, ideally after medical school.
Another key figure in her academic journey was Prof. Pedro Rada, who taught Neuroscience 102, the course that made her decide to continue exploring the brain.
“He was my favorite professor at DKU,” Ola said. “During our first meeting in my sophomore year, he inspired me to make the connection between science and medicine: ‘Do both, just like me.’”
Clubs, cats, and a campus transformed
Campus life quickly discovered Ola’s turbocharged empathy. She became president of three clubs: Animal Protection Academy, the volunteer network that feeds, vaccinates, and shelters DKU’s 55 semi-feral cats; Plant Futures Club, which promotes sustainable horticulture in dorm rooms and community plots; and Puzzle Mind Club, which offers late–night jigsaw sessions for mindfulness and stress relief.
“Our work often went unnoticed,” she said, “but we won a Starbucks Foundation grant of 15,000 RMB, established partnerships with local shelters, and developed protocols for cat care.” One sickly kitten was even airlifted to live with Ola’s parents in Poland.
Her dedication and warmth soon shined through her role as a Resident Assistant. Initially waitlisted for the position, Ola was determined not to let this setback stop her. She sought feedback from the Residence Life staff, worked tirelessly to improve, and secured the role. Then at her first floor meeting, she stared at 36 expectant freshmen.
“I was so anxious,” she said. Two hours later, they were playing icebreaker games and planning midnight snack runs. Those freshmen still text her memes and life updates.
Her philosophy: small, personal gestures. She baked birthday cupcakes, slid holiday cards under doors, and hosted one‑on‑one lunches. The approach paid off—she was named Resident Assistant of the Year. Her personal approach made a lasting impact, especially on freshmen who saw her as family rather than just a supervisor.
From ambition to alignment
Adapting to life in China had its hurdles, particularly language barriers and cultural adjustments. Yet Ola quickly noticed intriguing similarities between Chinese and Polish cultures.
“It surprised me how similar they are,” she said, pointing to shared etiquette around gift-giving and friendly battles over restaurant bills.
She also admired the incredible efficiency of life in China, recalling ordering a suitcase online at 1 a.m. that arrived in under half an hour, a feat unimaginable back home.
Prestige came knocking this spring: a Ph.D. offer from Cambridge and a Master’s from Oxford.
Yet, beneath her outward achievements lay deeper changes. Throughout that journey, her friends helped her hold everything together.
“They stood by me during some of the most difficult moments of my life,” she said.
When a minor misunderstanding in a group chat triggered one of the biggest mental breakdowns she’s ever experienced, a group of them showed up at her door with ice cream.
“I love ice cream—I even run Instagram accounts about it,” she added. Some friends accompanied her to hospitals. “I truly wouldn’t have made it without them.”
Initially career-driven, Ola admits her DKU experience shifted her priorities toward relationships and mental well-being.
“At first, I imagined myself at top universities doing groundbreaking research,” she said. “But gradually, I realized relationships and family matter more than just chasing a career.”
She now seeks balance, choosing to pursue medical school closer to home over prestigious offers from Cambridge and Oxford.
Her journey into medicine was equally transformative. Initially uninterested in becoming a doctor, volunteering at a COVID-19 hospital in 2020 changed everything. Witnessing firsthand the profound impact doctors made on patients’ lives convinced her this was the path she wanted to pursue.
“Seeing the fulfillment doctors had when patients recovered made me realize there’s no other job that would make me feel as fulfilled.”
Medicine, she decided, was her compass—science for the sake of human stories.
What Ola’s taking home (besides a cat and five languages)
Soon, Ola will trade Kunshan’s high-speed trains for Poland’s forest trails, where chanterelles hide beneath moss and a once-abandoned kitten naps on her childhood bed. She leaves China fluent in five languages, armed with molecular know‑how, circadian curiosities, and enough cat‑rescue protocols to start a shelter anywhere on Earth—or Mars.
If she could loop back to year one?
“I would protect my mental health better. In my freshman year, I focused too much on grades and missed out on other important experiences.”
Now she urges newcomers to learn Chinese early, honor downtime, and remember that sometimes a B can be braver than an A.
By Chen Chen
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