It’s 20 December 2025.

I looked at the calendar and did the math — 11 days left in Taiwan.

Eleven.

That suddenly felt very short.

So instead of sitting around being sentimental, I did what any slightly restless academic would do: I booked a quick day trip to Taichung.

Morning: High-Speed Decisions

I took the High Speed Rail in the morning — efficient, punctual, and dangerously convenient when you’re trying to squeeze in “just one more trip” before leaving.

After arriving in Taichung, I hopped onto the MRT and stopped at City Hall Station. First priority? Coffee.

A proper morning coffee. Light breakfast. Quiet corner. I even managed to read a few pages of my book — something that has been competing unsuccessfully with conferences, marathons, and farewell lunches.

For a brief moment, life slowed down.

Midday: Small Discoveries

My next stop was Maple Garden.

Peaceful. Relaxing. A good place to just walk without checking your phone every five minutes.

I saw a turtle. Then a black goose. Both looked far more relaxed than I’ve been this entire month.

After that, I visited the stunning National Taichung Theater. The architecture always amazes me — futuristic, curved, almost like walking inside a sculpture.

Of course, I couldn’t skip Eslite Spectrum Taichung. Books. Stationery. The kind of place where you walk in “just to look” and walk out questioning your luggage space for the flight home.

Back Before 3 PM

Despite the relaxed vibe, I had to keep an eye on the clock. This was a “quick trip,” after all.

By before 3 pm, I was already on my way back to Tainan.

Why the rush?

Because at night, I had another plan: 台南好 Young (Musical concert).

No rest for the (almost departing) researcher.

As the train sped south, I realised something: sometimes you don’t need a long vacation. A few hours in a different city, a good cup of coffee, a turtle sighting, and a quiet walk are enough.

Eleven days left.

Still counting — but still exploring.

Tonight, my supervisor had a reunion gathering with her friends at a restaurant. A proper grown-up dinner. Catching up. Nostalgia. Probably sophisticated conversations.

And us?

The supporting cast — the manager (Filipino), an Indonesian lecturer, and me (Malaysian).

We had our own plan.

Instead of attending the reunion, the three of us headed to T.S. Mall for dinner. Because if there is one thing we are good at, it is forming an alternative committee.

After some serious international negotiation (which usually means “What do you want to eat?” “Anything.” “Up to you.”), we decided on Korean food.

Yes.

A Filipino, an Indonesian, and a Malaysian eating Korean cuisine in Taiwan.

If that’s not globalisation, I don’t know what is.

We ordered confidently — bibimbap, seafood noodle, and side dishes. The manager approved of the rice (very important). The Indonesian lecturer handled the spice level bravely. I just nodded and kept eating.

Between bites, we laughed about how random this dinner felt. Three Southeast Asians, speaking in a mix of English and whatever else slipped out naturally, sitting in a Korean restaurant in Tainan.

It felt strangely normal.

Maybe that’s the beauty of academic life abroad. You leave home, but somehow you keep finding new versions of it — in shared meals, in familiar jokes, in friends who understand the struggle of living far away from your own country.

Our supervisor had her reunion.

We had ours too.

Just with more kimchi.

Today, I had the honour of being invited as an assessor for a postgraduate research presentation competition. Eight students. Ten minutes each. One language requirement: English.

No pressure at all. 😊

I always admire students who are brave enough to stand in front of a room and present their research findings within such a tight time limit. Ten minutes sounds long — until you try to explain years of experiments, failures, data analysis, and conclusions in it.

The talks were genuinely interesting. From experimental design to data interpretation, I found myself learning new things along the way. That’s one of the nicest parts about academia — even when you are there to assess, you still end up being a student.

After careful evaluation and discussion, we finally selected the winners. Congratulations to them — but honestly, everyone who stood up there deserves credit.

And just when the “serious academic mode” ended, the “festive mode” began.

At night, the school organised a Christmas party for students and staff. Let me summarise it in three words: So. Much. Food.

There was hot pot. There were snacks. There were drinks. Plates everywhere. People happily queueing. Conversations getting louder as the night progressed.

It was warm. It was lively. It was slightly chaotic.

And then — power trip.

Apparently, too much electrical usage at once. Hot pots, heaters, lights, sound system… everything decided to test the building’s capacity. For a brief moment, Christmas became candlelight edition.

But honestly? It made the night even more memorable.

From assessing research presentations in the afternoon to eating hot pot in semi-darkness at night — academia is truly a full-day experience.

Serious discussions. Festive laughter.
Data in the afternoon. Blackout at night.
​
Only in December. 🎄

​Before officially saying goodbye to Sun Moon Lake, we decided that our legs had not suffered enough.

So naturally, we rented a four-seat paddle boat.

It looked peaceful from afar. Calm water. Gentle sunshine. A postcard scene.

But once we got on it, reality began.

If the boat was going to move, we had to move.

And by “move,” I mean proper leg exercise. No free ride. No motor. No mercy.

At the beginning, everyone was enthusiastic. Pedal! Pedal! Teamwork! Coordination!
Five minutes later, the enthusiasm became strategic silence.

“Are you pedaling?”
“Yes!”
“Then why are we not moving?”

The lake was calm, but steering? That was another story. A few times, we drifted suspiciously close to other boats. At least twice, we nearly redefined the meaning of “team building” by bumping into strangers.

Thankfully, no collisions. Just awkward near-misses and polite smiles from other paddlers who were probably thinking, tourists.

Still, it was fun. The kind of fun that makes your legs burn but your heart happy. Out there on the water, with mountains surrounding us and the lake reflecting the sky, everything felt peaceful — even if we were pedaling like we were training for another half-marathon.

Eventually, we returned the boat (and our dignity) safely to the dock.

And just like that, it was time to head back.

The drive back felt quieter. Not tired in a bad way — just that comfortable silence after a good trip. Sun Moon Lake had been on my “Taiwan list” since the day I arrived. I talked about it for months. Almost went in November. Forgot about it. Nearly missed it.

But in the end, I made it.

With transport.
With friends.
With rice.
With bicycles.
With paddle boats that demanded cardio.

Not a bad way to close another chapter of my time in Taiwan.

Some trips are about sightseeing.
Some are about stories.

This one gave me both.

​After a full day of driving, pottery-making, cycling, minor bicycle incidents, and heroic shoe rescues, we reached the most important question of the evening:

What’s for dinner?

The answer: fried chicken and assorted snacks. Simple. Effective. Satisfying.

But of course, our manager added something essential.

She bought rice.

Because, as she always says, “Rice is life.” And honestly, after a long day of activity, she was absolutely right. Fried chicken is happiness. But rice? Rice is stability.

On the way back, we also noticed something interesting—quite a number of Santa Clauses walking around on the street. Either we accidentally joined a Christmas convention, or there was some festive event happening nearby. We never fully investigated. We were too focused on dinner.

Back at the hotel, we turned the room into our own mini celebration space. Fried chicken. Rice. Snacks. Beer. And a movie playing in the background. It wasn’t fancy, but it was perfect. After weeks of busy schedules, conferences, and travel, this simple dinner felt like the best kind of luxury.

The next morning, we had buffet-style breakfast at the hotel—included, which automatically makes everything taste better. Plates filled confidently. Coffee secured. No need to rush anywhere.

After breakfast, we took a slow walk around the hotel grounds. The view of Sun Moon Lake in the morning light was spectacular, calm water, mountains in the distance, fresh air that made you breathe a little deeper.

​No bicycles crashing. No shoes floating. Just peace.

It was the kind of morning that reminds you why you travel in the first place.

Good food. Good company. Good view.

And yes—rice was indeed life.

D-day finally arrived.

We gathered at the NCKU Life Sciences Building at 7:30 a.m.—a time normally reserved for serious experiments, not road trips. This time, however, the mission was different: Sun Moon Lake.

And technically… I was the driver.

Yes. Me. The visiting researcher, entrusted with the steering wheel. No pressure at all.

Our first stop was Shuili Snake Kiln on the way. We bought tickets, wandered through the art spaces, admired pottery, and pretended we understood ceramic techniques at a professional level. The highlight was the postdoc’s son getting to try a DIY hand-built clay bowl session. Watching him shape the clay was far more impressive than most of our lab pipetting skills.

And honestly? The final product was genuinely nice. Future ceramic artist, perhaps.

After that artistic detour, we continued our journey and finally arrived at our hotel around 1:30 p.m. The view? Amazing. The kind of view that makes you forget emails exist.

Naturally, our next scientific priority was food. We quickly searched for lunch options and ended up at a restaurant near the hotel.

Decision-making skills: efficient. Hunger level: high.

Then came the real adventure.

We rented a semi-automatic two-seater bicycle to explore Sun Moon Lake. Two seats. Shared responsibility. What could possibly go wrong?

It was actually a really nice experience—cycling by the lake, cool breeze, beautiful scenery. We probably didn’t go around the entire lake, but I’d estimate less than 12 km. That counts as exercise.

Now for the entertaining part.

At one point, the postdoc and the manager were sharing a bicycle. Somehow, through what I can only describe as advanced teamwork failure, they gently but confidently bumped into a barrier. No injuries. Just pride slightly dented.

And as if that wasn’t enough excitement, the postdoc’s son nearly lost his shoes into the lake. Yes. Shoes. Floating away. For a brief moment, we all watched in silence, calculating the odds of explaining this back home.

Thankfully, with the help of some kind strangers and a conveniently long tree branch, the shoes were heroically rescued. Crisis averted.

By the end of the day, we had:

1. One handmade clay bowl
2. One minor bicycle incident
3. One almost-lost pair of shoes
4. Zero serious damage

And a lot of laughter.

Sun Moon Lake delivered exactly what it promised: beautiful scenery, fresh air, and just enough chaos to make it memorable.

Science may involve risk assessment and careful planning.
​
Holiday trips? Apparently not so much.

Last week, my host supervisor asked me the question that can either make or break a trip: “Where else do you want to go while you’re still in Taiwan?”

Without thinking, I blurted out: Sun Moon Lake.

It was one of those places I had been dreaming about ever since I first arrived in Taiwan, but for one reason or another, I never made it.

Back in November, I actually had plans to go because there were fireworks and music events happening there. But between travel, marathon runs, conferences, and a ridiculously busy schedule… well, let’s just say Sun Moon Lake quietly slipped off my radar.

Now, in the last month of my sabbatical, I finally had a chance to go before returning to Malaysia. And this time, the trip came with a serious upgrade: transport. If I went by myself, it would have meant navigating buses and trains, figuring out schedules, and probably running late. Instead, my supervisor had a car ready, and suddenly the trip felt much more doable.

It felt a little unreal after months of running around labs, airports, and coffee shops, I was finally heading to one of the most iconic spots in Taiwan. Mountains, water, and a promise of relaxation. Something I hadn’t had much of during this busy sabbatical.

Of course, knowing my luck, I packed snacks, my clothes, and an unreasonable amount of enthusiasm because if you’re finally visiting a dream spot, you go all in.

Sun Moon Lake, here I come.

Christmas is coming, and the department is clearly taking it very seriously. Christmas trees everywhere, lights twinkling, and decorations that make the lab feel a little more like a holiday movie set than a research centre.
One evening, as we were heading home, my host supervisor, our manager, and I got pulled into a little detour. Our manager wanted to show us something special: the Santa Claus that hangs by the lift, which we didn’t even know could move or make music.

Curious, she pressed the Santa… and to our surprise, the little guy started climbing the rope. Slowly, majestically… until--CRACK! The rope snapped, and Santa came tumbling down like he’d just given up on the whole Christmas thing.

We stared. She stared. I stared.

And then, of course, laughter erupted. Santa was fine (well, as fine as a dangling Christmas toy can be after a fall), but the moment perfectly captured the spirit of Christmas in the lab: a little chaotic, slightly unpredictable, but full of joy.

Moral of the story?
​
Even Santa sometimes needs a backup plan… or maybe a sturdier rope.

And yes, I’m officially putting “Santa rope safety inspector” on my CV for next year.

I thought December would be a quiet wrap-up month in Taiwan—finishing experiments, packing notes, enjoying my last few weeks without rushing anywhere. That was the plan. But as anyone who knows research or sabbaticals will tell you: a plan is just a suggestion, and life loves to pop up surprises.

Case in point: right after my early farewell lunch with Prof. Chen and the Orchid Research Centre team, I found myself flying back to Malaysia on 6 December 2025 for another stakeholder engagement workshop scheduled for 8 December 2025.

Yes, you read that right. Taiwan one moment, Malaysia the next, and back to Taiwan the day after the workshop—basically a three-day whirlwind.

The workshop itself was excellent. It was productive, engaging, and part of our ongoing project, connecting with stakeholders, discussing progress, and making plans for the next phase. But between flights, airport transfers, and meeting schedules, I barely had time to catch my breath.

It reminded me that even in the final month of a sabbatical, being in one place for a while is more of a wish than a guarantee. Plans are nice, but reality, especially when it comes to science, projects, and travel, always has its own agenda.
​
Still, despite the rush, it felt good to see the project moving forward and to reconnect with colleagues in Malaysia. And after three days, I was back in Taiwan, ready to enjoy the last few weeks of my sabbatical… hopefully, without any more surprise flights

December 2025 turned out to be my last month in Taiwan.

I always knew this day would come, but knowing it and feeling it are two very different things. Somewhere between packing notes, finishing experiments, and saying “last time” to many routines, it finally sank in. I was about to leave a place that had quietly become familiar.

Then came the moment that really made it real.

In early December, Prof. Chen casually asked me, “Do you have time? We want to have a farewell lunch with you.”
Farewell? Early December?

I remember thinking, Seriously? My last day was 31 December 2025.

We still had weeks! But of course, their logic was very scientific. There was a grant application deadline on 31 December, and they knew exactly what would happen after that: chaos, stress, and no time for lunches.

Scientists, after all, are very good at predicting future disasters. Especially grant-related ones.

So, it made sense. Plan early. Celebrate early. Eat while everyone is still sane.

A few of us from the Orchid Research Centre gathered at T.S. Mall for lunch. Nothing fancy, just good food, familiar faces, and conversations that jumped from research to life and back again. 

That lunch reminded me why this time in Taiwan mattered so much. It wasn’t just about experiments or papers. It was about people who made the days easier, funnier, and more memorable.

December may have been my last month here, but moments like this made it feel complete.

And honestly?
​
Having a farewell lunch early is very on-brand for scientists.