I was rewatching Tsai Ming-liang’s Rebels of the Neon God – the boys drifting through old Taipei on motorbikes, the glow of streetlamps caught on rain-slick roads. Everything a little dim and bruised – but full of youth. There’s a beauty in the film’s bleakness. It moves like a half-forgotten memory, and something in me ached watching it. I realise now, in adulthood and motherhood, I crave that version of Taipei. The feeling of drifting without purpose. Chasing the night until morning.
The last few trips I’ve taken to Taiwan have been with my partner and our toddler. Sweet memories, but far from spontaneous. So this time – just a short work trip, no child in tow – we felt a kind of invincible freedom.
As soon as you land, you drop your bags and head for a massage or a head wash at a salon – something to scrub the journey off your skin. Taipei welcomes you like that. Then, as the humidity clings and your shoulders begin to drop, you’re ready to eat and begin the night ahead.
From there, decide which pocket of Taipei you want to explore. I usually plan around two: Xinyi or Zhongshan. If it’s Xinyi, I’ll start with Lin Jiang Night Market. Head straight for Luo Ji Xiao Chao, a stall known for its fiery wok-fried dishes. Order the lamb with morning glory and the basil whelks – always with a bowl of rice and a cold beer. Sit on a low stool, watch the wok master in action, and soak in the clatter and heat. But don’t overeat – the night is long.
Next door, there’s a mochi shaved ice stall. Hot, pillowy mochi sit snugly together over a bed of finely shaved ice, topped with a light drizzle of osmanthus syrup. The cleanser you didn’t know you needed.
From there, I’d take a taxi to ODD Bar. I first heard about it while sitting in a bar I wasn’t enjoying – half-listening to the bartender describe O-D-D as something like “underground Taipei.” I looked it up, left my half-drunk martini and headed.
And just like she said – it’s quirky, moody and alive. I ordered a sake martini – crisp, clean, slightly acidic – and found myself thinking of Millennium Mambo, while overhearing a couple next to me complaining about the trivial things in life.
Then another taxi to Beef Noodle Chicken Soup, a late-night noodle house that does exactly what its name promises. Open until 3am, and always with a queue. A tip: grab a number ticket from the machine by the door before anything else.
While you wait, take a short stroll to Bar Mood. Choose the entrance on the left – the one that keeps the room hidden. Start with a classic martini (vodka, lemon twist), then try their signature: Cacao, a cacao-washed whisky drink that’s smooth and creamy.
When you start to feel delirious head back to the noodle shop. Flash your ticket and order the beef noodles. In that moment, everything clicks. The night, the broth, your slightly unsteady body. You see the world in a new light.
