To us five years from now. I hope you feel the August air, a salt-laden blanket that made every movement a slow dance.
Four fragments of Hualien to hold onto
The Pacific in the Tub. In our Tuileries Family room, the bathroom felt like a glass sanctuary where the scent of eucalyptus mingled with the brine of the coast. I remember the way the steam curled around us, blurring the line between the warm bathwater and the vast, indigo indifference of the Pacific Ocean watching from the window, making our petty arguments feel wonderfully insignificant.
The Wild Boar Bet. Three hours at the Dong-da-men Night Market, specifically the Indigenous street, where the air was thick with the smell of charcoal and fermented soy. We leaned against rough bamboo walls that still smelled of summer rain, betting on who could handle the most pungent seasonings; "I can't feel my tongue," you whispered, laughing through the spice as the crowd roared around us.
The Clock Tower Beacon. After getting hopelessly lost in the Golden Triangle, the humidity felt like a physical weight, pressing the scent of asphalt and exhaust into our skin. Then, the great clock tower of Li Xiang Jiu Dian emerged through the haze, a steady, ticking sentinel of gold and light that promised the cool marble of the lobby and the scent of the hotel's French restaurant.
The Steam of the Wontons. The exact, stinging heat of red oil wontons from Hualien Xiang Bian Shi, eaten in a frantic rush as a sudden thunderstorm turned the streets into rushing rivers. I can still feel the contrast: the spicy, numbing warmth of the soup against the sudden, icy chill of rain hitting the back of my neck, a sensory collision that felt like the very heartbeat of Hualien.
When opened five years later
The French elegance of Li Xiang Jiu Dian might blur, but the feeling of the threshold—the shift from hushed luxury to the shouting streets—will stay. We'll remember the humidity clinging like a second skin and the shared silence of a room where the AC finally won.
The gold hand of the clock pausing at midnight.
- Savor the wild boar and millet wine on the Indigenous street.
- Request a Tuileries room for that surreal ocean-view bath.