Lu-Hai Liang

I shot this on my iPhone SE near my hostel.

It’s been almost a month since I arrived in Taiwan. I arrived May 2.

Although I have visited this island-nation before, I did not remember how affordable it is. I have been living in the same hostel now for about three weeks. It costs 350 TWD per night (£8.76/night).

I’m living in a student area, with leafy environs, some comely cloud-topped mountains in the near distance, and a bustling night market just around the corner.

I have enjoyed going out with hostel mates, hiking with an Icelander, chatting to a Canadian old-timer, watching movies with a Korean doctoral student, and meeting local Taiwanese luminaries.

A lot of the time I’m in the hostel working away on my laptop, drinking the free oolong tea (the stuff is addictive), and going out to exercise and walk around. I go to watch movies at the cinema, go swimming in the local sports centre, and eat out very cheaply.

It is a comfortable life and Taipei has surprised me with its easy-going, cosy nature.

I keep meaning to go somewhere else, and I will eventually (hopefully) make it to Kenting, which is right on the southern tip of Taiwan, as far away from Taipei as it’s possible to be on this island.

I genuinely don’t feel the pull, the pressure, to do all the travelling things, of having to find fun. I just do routine things.

And honestly, travel itself is a kind of consumption. In fact, it may be the defining consumption mode of the twenty-first century.

Whereas before people bought clothes and luxury brands, people now compete to outdo each other in experiences. On Instagram and Facebook and WeChat, people post pictures of their travels and their experiences. I do it too, of course.

But it is only a kind of consumption. And for those creative types, is it not better to create rather than to consume?