Taiwan. It’s one of those places often overlooked, wedged somewhere in the traveller’s imagination between a factory label on your new laptop and a brief stopover en route to somewhere else. Yet, scratch beneath the surface or sit down at a night market plastic stool with a steaming plate of oyster omelette and you’ll find a destination that can surprise even the most well-seasoned traveller.
Taiwan Tourism is now beating the drum for a slower, richer way of exploring the island. Their pitch? Three pillars: food that speaks louder than words, Indigenous culture that’s alive and thriving, and the art of simply slowing down before the world spins you off your axis. It’s less “tick the sights” and more “let it all soak in”.
Eat First, Ask Questions Later
Braised Pork Rice
If Taiwan were a novel, the cuisine would be its main character. Let’s start with the obvious: bubble tea. That sugary, chewy concoction born on the island is now exported everywhere from Brisbane to Birmingham. But here, sipped in a bustling alleyway with scooters buzzing past, it’s a different beast entirely.
Then there are the night markets, which make most food festivals look like a limp sausage sizzle. Picture oyster omelettes frying with a hiss, salt-and-pepper chicken passed over the counter, and yes, stinky tofu, that pungent little square that divides families and friendships alike. It’s not called “stinky” for nothing, but you’ll earn bragging rights (and maybe indigestion) if you’re brave enough.
What sets Taiwan apart is its layers of influence: Hokkien heartiness, Hakka inventiveness, Indigenous ingenuity, and international flair. Three-cup chicken is a national treasure, and Hakka-style braised pork with preserved veg is comfort food that could probably patch up diplomatic rifts. And don’t get me started on the fruit. A sun-ripened and sliced fresh Taiwanese mango tastes like summer love: fleeting, sweet, and unforgettable.
Culture Older Than the Headlines
Indigenous tribe
Now, to Taiwan’s soul. This island is the birthplace of Austronesian culture, something most Australians and Kiwis don’t realise. Today, 16 Indigenous tribes are officially recognised, each with its own language, rhythm, and artistic expression.
It’s not a museum piece either. These communities are living, breathing, creating. Festivals pound with music, chants weave polyphonic layers that can raise hairs on the back of your neck, and dances pass on stories older than colonisation. Crafts weaving, beadwork, carving — carry meaning as deep as any gallery piece, but here, you meet the makers, not just the labels.
Head to Hualien, Taitung, or Pingtung, and you’ll find tourism is done differently. There are no staged cultural “experiences” with a tired costume in sight; just communities inviting you in to share stories, taste food grown on ancestral land, and join in a dance that may leave you breathless and grinning in equal measure.
For Antipodeans, there’s a deeper connection. This is Austronesian kinship shared roots across oceans, stretching from Taiwan to Aotearoa, with Australia part of that vast family tree. It feels less like voyeurism, more like visiting cousins you never knew you had.
Stop. Breathe. You’re in Taiwan.
Now for the bit most of us forget to do on holiday: stop. Taiwan, mercifully, has mastered the art of slow travel. The island sits squarely on the Pacific Ring of Fire, meaning geothermal springs bubble away enthusiastically. Beitou’s sulphuric steam in Taipei is a city escape, Guanziling’s mud springs are quirky enough to feature in a spa-lover’s bucket list, and Zhiben in Taitung is pure serenity in liquid form.
Beyond the hot springs, geography makes even the most jaded traveller pause mid-scroll. Taroko Gorge in Hualien is the sort of place you’d expect to see in a cinematic epic, Kenting’s beaches are golden and windswept, and Sun Moon Lake is calm enough to silence an argument. At Alishan, the sunrise rolls in over a “sea of clouds” with Instagrammers dropping their phones in stunned awe.
This isn’t “doing Taiwan”. This is letting Taiwan do something to you. Sip high-mountain oolong tea with a local in a wooden teahouse, wander a village lane where life moves at the speed of a bicycle, or hike one of those 286 peaks and realise you don’t need Wi-Fi to feel connected.
Why It Matters
Taiwan is refreshingly real in a world where “authentic travel” often means being herded into a hotel ballroom for a token cooking class. Its food is born from history, its culture still sings loudly, and its landscapes demand time and attention.
The Taiwan Tourism Bureau puts it neatly: “Taiwan Tourism invites global travellers to embark on a journey that nourishes the senses, honours tradition, and embraces the present.” It’s a statement, yes, but it’s also an invitation.
And frankly, when the alternative is another bland holiday that blurs into the next, Taiwan’s call to slow down, taste deeply, and listen carefully feels like the advice we all need.
For itineraries and inspiration, see the Taiwan Tourism website.
By Charmaine Lu
