I had envisioned a curated, silent retreat—a sophisticated city break defined by hushed galleries and minimalist tea houses. But as soon as my second child asked if the hotel pool was deep enough to hide a treasure chest in, I felt the carefully constructed plan dissolve. The Shangri-La Far Eastern Plaza, Taipei has a peculiar, welcoming way of absorbing the chaotic frequency of a family; its soaring ceilings and plush, heavy carpets act as a sonic buffer for the frantic, small energies of children. In April, Taipei feels like a damp, warm cloth pressed against the skin, a humid embrace that encourages a slower pace. I found myself thinking, Why fight the current? We spent our mornings drifting between the elegant Chinese-style rooms and the elevators, our rhythms clashing and then merging, like two disparate currents finally meeting in a still, deep pond.
Five Small Anchors of Our April Stay
The rooftop pool water — a shimmering, turquoise expanse on the 43rd floor that felt like a suspended lake in the sky, the cool water shocking the skin before the second child broke the surface with a chaotic, joyful splash. Noticed first by the second child.
A plate of Taiwan black chocolate lava cake — thick, dark, and viscous, the molten center flowing across the white porcelain like a slow-moving river of cocoa, smelling of roasted beans and indulgence. Noticed first by the eldest.
The oversized hotel robes — heavy, white cotton smelling faintly of cedar and expensive soap, large enough to swallow the children whole and turn them into small, fluffy ghosts haunting the hallway. Noticed first by the second child.
The steam from the Taiwanese beef noodles — a fragrant, swirling mist at the Far Eastern Café that blurred the edges of the room, tasting of star anise and the kind of long-simmered patience only a kitchen can possess. Noticed first by me.
The camphor leaves on Dunhua South Road — translucent, pale green, and vibrating in the humid breeze, they looked like filtered gold when the afternoon sun pierced through the city haze. Noticed first by my wife.
Our room is now a silent, moonlit sanctuary.
- Try the Josper Grill steaks at the Far Eastern Café for a smoky, charcoal depth.
- Take the elevator to the 43rd floor to watch the city haze at dawn.