Finding Calm in Glasgow: Reflections on Beginning My PhD Journey
Chang-Wei Zang is a Postgraduate Research Student at the University of Glasgow, College of Social Sciences, School of Law, pursuing a PhD in Law.
In January 2026, I arrived at the University of Glasgow to begin my PhD in Law. Everything felt new. It was my first time setting foot in Scotland and my first time living in Glasgow.
Unlike London, where I completed my Master of Laws (LLM) at Queen Mary University of London, Glasgow gives me a sense of calm and stillness. London, to me, often felt vibrant and bustling, whereas Glasgow has a quieter rhythm. Perhaps this tranquility is what has made me fall in love with the city.
Some people say that pursuing a PhD is a lonely journey: you walk alone through a vast ocean of knowledge, constantly moving forward. Yet I do not necessarily see this as a bad thing. In an age dominated by social media and information overload, I believe it is a rare and precious opportunity to learn to spend time with yourself: to enjoy quiet moments, and to devote yourself wholeheartedly to the pursuit of knowledge you truly love.
My PhD experience is also very different from my time studying for my LLM at Queen Mary University of London, or from my postgraduate studies in Taiwan. In those earlier stages, I had to complete a substantial number of credits, and the pace of study was often intense and demanding. By contrast, during the PhD programme, I have only one taught course: Law Research Methods Training. This has given me more time and space to think deeply about many questions. It has also made me realise that some difficult questions, whether in research or in life, can only be understood when we allow ourselves enough space and silence to reflect.
I have gradually found that some of my clearest thoughts do not necessarily happen when I am sitting at a computer. Sometimes, after hours of reading and writing, simply walking through Glasgow and letting my thoughts settle helps me see a research question in a new light. The city’s quieter rhythm seems particularly suited to this kind of reflection. Research is not always about producing an immediate answer; sometimes it is also about giving an idea enough time to develop.
While AI tools are rapidly advancing and can assist with tedious tasks and organising information, they cannot replace human thought. Relying solely on AI for this part of the process risks missing many of life's beautiful moments.
The same applies to studying abroad. While we can learn lots by watching others live in a foreign country through a screen, it can never truly substitute for personal experience. Some things in life simply cannot be skipped. Only by experiencing them firsthand can they become part of our personal story, internalised and transformed into something that truly belongs to us.
During the research process, we often find ourselves doubting our abilities. After exhaustively searching the relevant literature and engaging with the work of previous scholars, we may begin to wonder whether it is truly possible to bring something new to topics that have already been repeatedly examined, debated, and reflected upon by others — and whether we can eventually find our own voice.
For me, finding that voice is also connected to the experience of living and studying abroad. Encountering a different academic environment, a different city, and a different rhythm of life encourages me to reconsider assumptions that once seemed familiar. Perhaps an academic voice does not appear all at once. It develops gradually, through reading, thinking, and questioning, as well as through the experiences that shape the person doing the research. In this sense, the solitude of PhD study can be frustrating, but it can also give us the freedom to discover how we genuinely think.
Yet I believe that such frustration is a necessary part of the research journey that every PhD student must go through. When we finally discover the originality and value of our own research, the joy of that moment must surely be beyond words.
Perhaps learning to appreciate these quieter moments of research has also made me more attentive to the small details of everyday life in Glasgow, including something impossible to ignore here: the weather.
Some people may complain that Glasgow's weather is unpredictable and full of surprises: one moment the sun is shining, and the next the rain begins to fall. Yet this rain, and the dampness that lingers in the air afterwards, often reminds me of my home in Taiwan.
In fact, I have found many similarities between Scotland and Taiwan. Scottish people are friendly and warm, and people in Taiwan are often proud of their hospitality and kindness. Scotland is famous for its whisky, enjoyed worldwide, while Taiwan has its own iconic brand, Taiwan Beer. These similarities have made me feel far less distant from home than I expected. At times, Glasgow feels strangely familiar, almost like a second home.
Finally, I believe fate always brings people the best and most suitable arrangements. Although my PhD journey has only just begun, the University of Glasgow and the city of Glasgow have already brought me many wonderful surprises. I hope that in the coming years I will create many more beautiful memories here while continuing to grow and improve.
I hope that in the coming years I will create many more beautiful memories here while continuing to grow and improve.
I also hope to one day give back to the University, to society, and perhaps even to the wider world, carrying forward the proud tradition of this historic institution, which has existed for nearly six centuries. In doing so, I hope to become, in the spirit of the University of Glasgow, one of its “World Changers”.
