I still remember when I first arrived at Shigakkan University in Kagoshima, I felt very lonely. There were no family members or familiar friends around, and facing a completely different culture and environment, I inevitably felt a bit out of place. Especially with the small details of life, such as food choices and transportation habits, it made me feel like I had entered a whole new world. During this time, I experienced moments of low energy, filled with longing for home.

However, everything changed after I met other exchange students. In addition to a junior from my school, I also met an exchange student from South Korea. We started sharing our adaptation processes to Japan and discussing the challenges we encountered after arriving here. This kind of exchange made me no longer feel lonely and allowed me to start looking at foreign cultures from their perspective, noticing many details that I hadn’t paid attention to before.

We often went out for meals together, exchanged cultural differences, and even shared our thoughts on the inconveniences of life in Japan. Each conversation made me realize that these cross-cultural encounters not only made our lives more interesting, but also helped us understand each other better. This sense of closeness became a light that dispelled the loneliness inside me.

Now, I have gradually adapted to life here and no longer feel as lonely. This time of exchange has not only taught me about different cultures but has also allowed me to make many Japanese friends. For me, the exchange student life is not just about gaining knowledge, but also a journey of growth and self-exploration.

This photo was taken during a dinner gathering with other exchange students. We enjoyed Japanese barbecue together and happily talked about the little things in life. I am grateful for their company, which has made me feel less lonely in a foreign land and has helped me find a true sense of warmth.

As a UNESCO World Heritage Site, a place that one ought to visit at least once in a lifetime, Mont-Saint-Michelle, situated near the Bay of Saint-Malo, in the Normandy region of northern France.

Camels lie quietly on the golden sand, their bodies covered with brightly colored fabrics and tassel decorations. The vibrant colors shine especially brightly under the sunlight, adding a touch of vitality to the peaceful scenery. Some gaze off to the side, while others close their eyes peacefully, as if silently waiting with the ancient ruins for time to pass.
In the distance, the Great Pyramid of Khufu stands between the sand dunes and the sky. Even after thousands of years of sandstorms, it remains as immovable as a mountain. Beside the pyramid, the Sphinx sits in silence, as if gazing at the world and the travelers who have come from afar.
In this landscape, quietly sealed by the passage of time, nature and civilization face each other in silence, together preserving the memory of a thousand years.

Amidst the lush green forest, a tranquil little cabin stands quietly by the lakeside, as if taken straight from a fairy tale—washing away every trace of exhaustion without a single word.

Exchange Diary | Chiang Mai Dusk & My Favorite Temple
I took this photo during my exchange in Chiang Mai. Wat Chedi Luang has always been my favorite.
That evening, the sky was overcast, the clouds low—but the temple glowed like a memory in the dusk.
In Thailand, I felt better—physically and mentally—like I could finally breathe freely.
Every time I see this photo, I wish I could go back and live those easy days again.
Wat Chedi Luang isn’t just a tourist spot to me—it’s a symbol of how I once felt: happy, free, and at peace with myself.
Back then, I often wandered alone, visiting temples—not out of loneliness, but for the freedom to just be.
Looking at it, one thought came to me: maybe I’m that kind of person too.
I’ve kept this photo not because it’s perfect, but because it holds the truest version of me.

Even though it’s not my first time in Tokyo, this spring feels different.
It’s a little lonely, a little warm, and something I’ve come to enjoy.
The cherry blossoms, which only belong to spring, welcomed me—and they’ll also be the ones to see me off.
I don’t think I’ll be ready to go home until I’ve done everything I need to do here—everything I’ve dreamed of and hoped for.

This photo was taken in Brussels, Belgium. The building is the Brussels City Hall located on the Brussels Square. I passed by this square on the way to see Manneken Pis that day. The square is very large and has many buildings and restaurants. Every building looks like in the photos, and every detail is carefully designed. The sun was about to set, and the sunlight was particularly beautiful when it shone on the buildings. The moon also came out at this time, and I thought the scenery was beautiful and perfect for taking a photo!

The photo was taken during my trip to Cambridge. To me, the UK is a truly beautiful place—rich in culture, history, and vibrant with diverse ethnic backgrounds.
Punting in Cambridge is undoubtedly a must-do on everyone’s list. Gliding along the river in a small boat, we leisurely passed one historic landmark after another. The punter skillfully maneuvered the long pole, dodging other boats, all the while sharing the stories behind each building, each bridge, and each chapter of history. His witty and intelligent commentary, paired with the gentle breeze and the faint scent of blooming flowers, formed my lasting impression of punting in Cambridge.
The photo captures the scenery along the path I took to reach the boarding point. I was utterly captivated by the beauty of the place—I finally understood why the poet Xu Zhimo wrote such a tender and lyrical farewell to Cambridge.
"The golden willows by the riverside are brides in the setting sun;
Their shimmering reflections ripple through my heart."
— Xu Zhimo, Saying Goodbye to Cambridge Again
His words were no exaggeration. That day, I felt as though I had stepped into his poem, seeing the same landscape the great poet had admired a century ago. I was deeply moved. The phrase “breathtaking” feels almost inadequate here—perhaps it is finally used in its most fitting sense.
My heart surged with emotion, yet I struggled to find words to match the beauty I saw. Among all the words I’ve learned, none seemed worthy enough. Even calling it “beautiful” felt too mundane.
That day, I saw so many things that had only ever existed in photos for me. I looked at Newton’s apple tree and wondered—did he once sit under that very tree, reading a book? Was the tree full of apples back then? (Now, it's just a replica.) I saw the Mathematical Bridge in Cambridge and thought—if James had known that mischievous students later dismantled it and couldn’t put it back together, which is why it’s now full of nails, would he be furious?
Perhaps this is the true meaning of seeing the world. If I had the talent of a poet, I would write my own verses to honor the beauty of this unforgettable Cambridge.

"I must go to the coast of Croatia,” I told myself.

That song—one that holds a place in my playlist—whispers to me:
“Real love is June 2019, the coast of Croatia.”

What is true love?
After listening to it on loop 123 times, I found myself longing for a place I had never even seen.

No matter what, I must go to the coast of Croatia.

The sea breeze gently brushes against my face, strands of hair sticking to my skin. The golden glow of the setting sun, accompanied by the symphony of waves and wind—the ocean’s wind harp—awakens all my senses.

I sit by the coast of Croatia, gazing at the shimmering sea touched by the sunset, as the song plays for the 124th time.

Real love is December 2024, the coast of Croatia.

I used to think love was narrow—only the romantic kind between two people.
I believed that constant giving would eventually bring something in return.
But when I didn’t get what I longed for, I began to understand:
Love has many forms. Romantic love is just one of them.
There must be both giving and receiving.

To remain true to yourself within love, to find the distance and comfort that suit both people—perhaps that kind of love is the luckiest thing in the world.

Polish cuisine quietly carries an Asian soul — from the beloved dumplings in both savory and sweet forms, steamed or fried, to crispy pork cutlets and hearty beef sauerkraut stew, many flavors feel surprisingly familiar to an Asian palate. But today is Qingming Festival, and I couldn't escape the flood of homemade spring roll posts shared by friends and family back in Taiwan. The nostalgia hit hard. So, in a foreign land far from home, we rolled up our sleeves — quite literally — and made our own unique, tear-inducingly delicious spring rolls. Against all odds, we recreated a taste of home, and even invited international friends to join us for a beautiful exchange of culture through food.

I studied at the Catholic University of Lyon (UCLY) in Lyon, France, for a one-semester exchange program from January to May. One of the biggest challenges at the beginning was the language barrier. While the professors at school usually spoke French at a slower pace during classes, local French people spoke much faster in daily life, which took some time to get used to. I had to gradually adapt and practice my listening skills.

This exchange experience not only improved my French translation abilities, but also enhanced my listening and speaking skills in both English and French, as well as deepened my understanding of international relations. More importantly, it changed the way I view myself and prompted me to reflect on what I truly want in life.

"The Shortest Distance Between Professional"
I’m completely satisfied—every university class has been so interesting.  
Also, I never imagined the day would come when the words I’d seen and heard so many times through screens and radio would become part of my daily conversations. It’s amazing  that the phrases I used to just recognize are now being used by the people around me, and even by me, naturally. And now I can use them to connect with others. Me, actually communicating with people using those words. It feels like such a luxury. I’m having fun—genuinely, wholeheartedly enjoying it. Truly grateful.

I still remember how cold it was when I first arrived in Krakow, and the trees along the streets were all bare. Every day, I looked forward to the arrival of spring. Then one day, while taking a walk by the river, I noticed the cherry blossom trees along the street slowly starting to bloom, just like in the photo.The man sitting by the river must be looking forward to spring just as much as I was!

As my exchange program drew to a close, I arrived at my final destination, Lisbon, Portugal. Facing the vast Atlantic Ocean, this city boasts an endless coastline where sunlight dances across the shimmering waves, casting a warm, gentle glow. That day, a soft breeze brushed against my skin as I strolled along the seaside promenade. The waves lapped softly against the rocks, accompanied by the calls of seagulls and the soothing murmur of the ocean.

Suddenly, a solitary sailboat appeared, gliding toward the distant horizon. Its pristine white sails billowed in the wind against the deep blue sea, forming a harmonious tableau that seemed to seek its own path across the boundless waters. In that instant, I raised my camera and pressed the shutter, capturing a scene that felt both solitary and liberating.

To me, this photograph is more than a mere moment from my travels. It encapsulates the essence of my exchange experience. In a foreign land, I was like that sailboat, navigating uncharted waters with dreams and uncertainties about the future. Confronted with language barriers, cultural differences, and the challenges of living alone. I learned to sail against the wind, continually exploring my connection to the world and myself.

On this stretch of Lisbon’s coastline, I found a moment of tranquility uniquely my own and realized that travel’s true essence lies not only in reaching a destination but in the personal growth and open-mindedness cultivated along the way. Wherever my journey leads next, I will be like this sailboat, bravely ride the waves and embrace the unknown.

“We are a way for the cosmos to know itself.”
— Carl Sagan

During my exchange days, I often took the MRT alone after class to the Bangkok old town.
Sometimes for a plate of basil chicken bigger than my face that costs only 50 baht,
other times for a bowl of refreshing grass jelly dessert sold by an 80-year-old uncle.
The old buildings and riverside views are charming,
but what I love most are the lazy cats lounging inside Wat Pho.
This area always feels like stepping back into old Siam—it’s my favorite corner of Bangkok.

That day, I wandered into a random alley, looked up, and unexpectedly saw the iconic Wat Arun view. I’ve seen the temple from all kinds of angles but never one that stunned me like this.
The glow of the temple, the red taillights, the neon shop signs, they all blended into one surreal moment.
At that moment,, Teresa Teng’s voice echoed in my mind: “我愛這夜色茫茫”

The Precious South

With the sea breeze blowing gently, everything started to feel calm.
That lost feeling I had when I first arrived in this new country slowly faded, and excitement for a new life took its place.
Like the sun setting in the west, it wasn’t really an ending—it was the start of something new.
Life just keeps moving in cycles. It might go slowly, but there’s always something new to see along the way.

Although I took many photos of more spectacular and beautiful landscapes during my trip, this one holds the deepest meaning for me.
This photo was taken while I was walking along El Río Tormes in Salamanca. That day, I had no particular destination in mind; I just wanted to wander and see how the city looked at night. As I walked, I arrived at a bridge and was captivated by the scene before me.

The buildings quietly emitted a soft glow, and the lights on the bridge were shining. The entire city's reflection shimmered on the calm river surface, looking almost unreal. The water was like a mirror, perfectly reflecting the outlines of the church, the arrangement of the lights, and the curves of the bridge. For a moment, I truly couldn't tell what was real and what was reflection.

Perhaps it was this feeling that made this photo especially appealing to me. Like many moments during travel, what seems like just a passing scene can deeply imprint on the heart and leave lasting marks.

If I have the chance, I will definitely return to Salamanca. Not to take the same photo again, but to experience that night once more — the kind of night that makes you want to stop, take a deep breath, and savor a little more time filled with peace and warmth.

Of course, I know the city I return to may have changed, and the familiar faces might be gone. The feeling of "things change, people change" is a common sentiment in travel. But because of that, the feelings from that night and that moment become even more precious. They won't fade with time or change but will always be kept in my heart as a unique corner of memory.

Before coming to Spain , I used to imagine making lots of close friends from all over the world and sharing Taiwanese food and laughter with them.

One day, I asked a few friends that if they were free and if they‘d like to come over and try some Taiwanese dishes. After they agreed, I started thinking hard about what to cook — I even called my mom for ideas. In the end, I made a few of her home-style dishes, as well as some scallion pancakes and bubble tea. Everyone has different tastes, but I really hoped they’d enjoy the food that I grew up with.

Seeing them eat happily and ask for recipes, and even  hearing someone say, “I have to visit Taiwan.” made me feel like I’d brought a little piece of home with me.

While we were eating, one of them smiled and said, “We’re just like a family.” Those simple words literally got to me. We were all far from home and probably all missing our families in our own way, and somehow, through that meal, I was able to give us all a little bit of that warmth. I realized that the feeling of home could be shared. I wanted them to experience how amazing my country is, and in that moment I felt as though I had achieved it.

Title: The Castle Locked by Time
Location: Summer Palace, Beijing

Beijing breathes with the weight of centuries, its very stones steeped in stories, its air thick with echoes of dynasties past. Within this vast city of heritage, we wandered into the Summer Palace, an imperial garden once graced only by royal footsteps during the Qing dynasty.

There, beyond the still waters and winding corridors, we caught a glimpse of something eternal:
A castle, or perhaps a memory of one, hidden behind ancient gates.

Time, intangible yet unrelenting, has bound this place in silence, a quiet exile behind stone and view.The gates, are more than thresholds; they are the fragile seams between history and the now, a history a castle what the past waits patiently, not to be remembered, but to be reawakened.

Through the different gaze of the present, we are invited to see not what has faded, but what endures, waiting for us to look differently,feel deeply, and step, once more, into the story it still holds.

This photo was taken on the way up to the Daikichi‑yama lookout in Uji. My fellow exchange‑student friend and I walked about ten minutes from town and then another twenty minutes along a mountain trail. The layered shadows of the trees formed a moody, almost perfect frame shaped entirely by nature.

The grandeur of the ancient capital remains,
Every brick and tile holding echoes of the past.
Beijing, the seat of six dynasties,
A thousand-year center of power and ambition.
Countless princes, generals, and officials —
All their struggles leading to the peak of imperial authority.
To the nobles, this palace is a battlefield of schemes and swords.
To the maids and servants trapped within red walls,
It is a golden cage, a life bound by the shadow of power.
Looking down at the Forbidden City,
The marble railings and carved rooftops still stand.
Yet what I see are the fading dreams of power,
And the quiet emptiness left by passing time.

Winter is over and spring is coming, and the cherry blossoms in March are falling like snow. I am very happy to witness the cherry blossom season in South Korea for only a dozen days during the exchange period. Walking on the streets with petals, the romantic atmosphere seems to heal the mood of the whole day.

The lake rests like a poem, cherry blossoms bloom above and below—spring lingers in quiet grace.

With each slow step, the swaying rice fields whisper like the passage of time- a tender dialogue between the Hmong elder and the land.

Ohori Park, Fukuoka, Japan
The twilight's golden hues spill over Fukuoka's Ohori Park, a flock of cranes rests serenely on the water, whispering the castle's faded glory. 
Melancholy ripples through shimmering reflections, as history and nature weave a canvas of profound tranquility.

As the train slowly made its way along the Portuguese coastline, I quietly gazed out the window. Sunlight shimmered on the surface of the sea, like a glimmering galaxy spread before my eyes. Just half an hour later, I arrived at Cabo da Roca, known as “the edge of the land, the beginning of the ocean.” Standing on the cliffside, watching the sun gradually sink below the horizon, I felt an indescribable calm and sense of release—like letting go of the noise within, leaving only a pure connection with nature.

Though this exchange journey is not yet over, its quiet changes have already begun to take root in me. From the initial struggles with language and culture shock, to now gradually adjusting to the rhythm of local life, I see myself slowly adapting, becoming more gentle and open. Every time I got lost and spoke with strangers, every time I spoke up in class with imperfect language, every shy smile at the supermarket checkout—these are all pieces of this journey. Moments that once made me uneasy have now become precious memories in my heart.

In that moment, brushed by the sea breeze, I seemed to finally understand the meaning of the phrase, “Travel is not just about the destination, but the journey itself.” I’ve learned to slow down and notice the small yet sincere emotions in daily life. The photo I took at Cabo da Roca captures not only a breathtaking view, but also the starting point of my inner transformation. To me, this exchange is more than an academic experience—it is a chance to rediscover myself. In this story that’s still unfolding, I hope my future self can shine gently and resolutely, just like that serene yet radiant sunset.

Looking back at all the photos I took during my exchange in the U.S., I realized that one person appears by my side in almost every shot. So, I’ve chosen a few representative photos to share the story of my exchange experience. The girl in the pictures is my girlfriend, Yena. From the very beginning of the semester, I was drawn to her kindness and the warm aura she carried.

Yena is a music major, and throughout the semester, I often accompanied her to the practice rooms where she played the piano and practiced vocal performances. She is incredibly dedicated — so much so that even on the day of her "Outstanding Freshman Award" ceremony, we were still in the practice room rehearsing.

We experienced so many things together in the U.S., from participating in various school events to creating countless meaningful memories. One of the most unforgettable moments was when she gathered a group of friends to throw me a surprise birthday party. I was completely caught off guard and deeply touched. It was the first time in my life that so many people had come together to celebrate my birthday — an experience I’ll never forget.

One of our photos was even captured by the university photographer and featured on the school’s official website. Although it was only a one-semester exchange, the bond we formed was incredibly strong. On the last day of the semester, both of us were in tears, reluctant to say goodbye. Fortunately, I’ll be graduating soon, and we’ll have many chances to see each other again in the future.

Without Yena, my days in the U.S. would have been far less colorful. She brought warmth and meaning to my exchange journey.

My university lacks club activities and exchange student-specific programs, yet my friends and I never felt bored. Speaking of Turkey, one cannot ignore the locals' passion for football. My friends were either playing football or on their way to watch matches. Fans of different teams show strong unity while harboring mutual animosity. Hours before a match, they gather to chant slogans; during major games, they even light flares and parade around campus with such enthusiasm that it resembles a revolution. This was my first experience with the wild fervor of football culture.
My Korean roommates happened to be Christians too, which strengthened our bond in this Islamic country. Besides attending worship services and sharing meals together, we participated in Christmas events organized by local Christians, enjoying many happy moments. I also brought small gifts from Taiwan that helped me make numerous friends. Whenever they cooked local dishes, they always saved a portion for me. I introduced them to the Mid-Autumn Festival culture, and we appreciated the moon together, ate mooncakes, and shared the story of Su Shi, experiencing a unique cultural exchange. Indeed, no matter where you are, everything becomes more enjoyable with friends.
Honestly, my exchange life in Cyprus was completely different from what I expected, but I have no regrets whatsoever. The meaning of studying abroad goes beyond material comfort; what's more important is the interaction between people. The memories created through the collision and interweaving of people from different countries are truly precious. If I had missed this opportunity to broaden my horizons and experience diverse cultures, my life would likely have lacked much color. I'm grateful for all the experiences during these six months, both good and bad, as they have shaped me into a better person. If given another chance, I would definitely embark on such a journey again without hesitation.

I felt very lucky and happy to have met so many friends from all over the world. I'm truly grateful to them for making my ordinary 18th year extraordinary. Earlier this year, when a major earthquake struck Taiwan, I received many kind messages from my friends in Europe and the America. They were genuinely concerned about how everything was going in Taiwan.

This photo was taken during my solo trip around Spain, while I was in Barcelona. In the background is the Barcelona Cathedral, a magnificent Gothic-style building located in the Gothic Quarter. The two newspaper-like sheets I’m holding were given to me by a local street artist after he took my photo. These "newspapers" are actually small prints he created using the photo he took of me along with some text introducing the history and unique features of Barcelona. They were both interesting and meaningful souvenirs.

The Twin Towers, standing in the city center, are the most representative international landmark in the Malaysian capital. During the Lunar New Year, the tower was lit up with special lights symbolizing the New Year, adding a festive touch to this multicultural city. Since the campus semester had not yet ended and I was unable to return Taiwan to reunite with my family, I went for a walk in the city with my friends at night to experience the exotic New Year atmosphere.

The exchange period of just one semester has come to an end in the blink of an eye. During the Lunar New Year holiday before the final exams, I especially cherished these last days and took the time to explore Malaysia with friends from all over the world, leaving unforgettable memories of this special experience. Looking back on weekdays, everyone rushed between different classes during the day, had a brief gathering at lunchtime, and then hurried back to our respective classrooms in the afternoon. At night, we often meet in the 24-hour reading room, and on weekends we go out together or go shopping for daily necessities together. The seemingly ordinary daily life becomes full of fun and memorable moments because of each other's company and the differences in language and culture.

These days will soon become part of my wonderful memory. From preparing the application, waiting for admission, arriving at the local location and completing the visa application, everything seemed to have just begun, but was already nearing the end. Maybe one day in the future we will meet again in some corner of the world, but it will probably no longer be as easy as it is now to eat, chat and explore with friends from different countries, cultures and religious backgrounds. Thank you for the time we spent in each other's lives, which has given the Malaysian nights an unforgettable warmth under the red and warm yellow lights.

Kuala Lumpur, 2025.