Taiwan: Taipei, night markets and the gorges of Taroko

I arrived in Taipei with a bubble tea in my hand within the hour, which feels like the correct way to land in the island where the drink was born. Tapioca pearls knocking around the bottom of the cup, the city humming with scooters, and that warm, slightly electric air that tells you something is always open somewhere. Taiwan is small on the map and enormous in person — a place that packs mountains, marble gorges, tea plantations and the densest, friendliest food scene I've ever wandered into onto one compact, green, generous island.

My loop took shape fast: Taipei first, for the night markets and the tower that watches over everything; then the high-speed rail and the slow mountain lines out to tea country and lantern villages; and, if conditions allowed, the famous gorges over on the east coast. Spoiler on that last one — they come with an honest asterisk, and I'll get to it properly. But it starts, like most good trips here, at a steaming counter after dark.

Taipei, where the markets never sleep

Taipei made sense to me through its night markets. At Shilin and Raohe I did the only sensible thing and ate my way down the lanes: xiao long bao trembling with hot broth, beef noodle soup that's basically the national hug in a bowl, and — because you have to, once — stinky tofu, which smells like a dare and tastes far better than its reputation. Above it all stands Taipei 101, the green-glass tower that for years was the tallest building on Earth; I rode up at dusk and watched the city switch on, a carpet of lights running straight to the mountains. By day I slowed down: the grand sweep of the Chiang Kai-shek Memorial Hall, and an evening soak in the steaming, sulphur-scented hot springs of Beitou, where the whole valley smells faintly of warm eggs and nobody minds.

« In Taipei, dinner isn't a place you go — it's a street you get lost in. »

Now the honest bit, because it's the house specialty. Taiwan is gloriously well connected — fast, cheap mobile data almost everywhere, strong signal threading through the metro and the night-market crowds where my phone happily mapped me from one stall to the next. I'd had an eSIM live from the moment I landed, so paying, translating menus and pulling up train times all just worked. The only real gaps come up high, deep in the mountains, where the bars thin out for a while — worth knowing before you head into tea country or the canyons, not a reason to worry in the city.

Up the lines, into lanterns and tea

Leaving the lowlands is half the joy here. The high-speed rail runs the populous west coast and turns long distances into quick, smooth hops, while the older panoramic lines climb slowly into the green. I made the pilgrimage up to Jiufen, the old gold-mining village stacked on a hillside, its narrow stepped lanes strung with red lanterns that glow against the mist at dusk. People love to link its teahouse-and-lantern atmosphere to a certain Studio Ghibli film — though Miyazaki himself has said it wasn't an inspiration, so I'll just call it gorgeous on its own terms and leave the legend politely to one side. From there the island kept unfolding: the calm, mountain-ringed water of Sun Moon Lake, and a slow ride on the forest railway up toward Alishan, where the oolong tea grown in that high, cloudy air is some of the best I've ever tasted, sipped on a misty platform with my fingers wrapped around the cup.

Taroko, and a gorge worth checking on first

I had dreamed of Taroko Gorge over near Hualien for years — those soaring walls of grey-white marble with a river cutting through the bottom, one of Taiwan's natural wonders. But here I have to be straight with you, because I'd rather you trust me than be disappointed. In April 2024 a powerful earthquake of around magnitude 7.4 struck the east coast and hit the Taroko area hard, triggering landslides; since then access has been very restricted, with parts of the park and its trails closed or only partially reopened. This is not a place to turn up and assume the gates are wide open. Check the official park status close to your travel dates, respect every closure and warning sign, and have a plan B for the east coast — the recovery is ongoing, and conditions can change. I'd love to tell you to just go; instead I'll tell you to go informed.

What I take away

Taiwan gave me the rare thing: density without exhaustion, a place where neon and nature sit one train ride apart. I left with the taste of soup dumplings and high-mountain oolong, the glow of Jiufen's lanterns, and a healthy respect for an island still healing from its earthquake. Come hungry, come curious, and come with your phone already connected — then let the night markets, the tea trains and the New Taiwan dollars in your pocket carry you wherever the lights are still on.

— Nora, bubble tea in hand, somewhere between the neon and the mountains.