We bet on who’d lose their luggage tag first—a stupid wager made in the humid blur of the taxi. Naturally, we all lost. Stepping out, we just stared at the towering European columns of Shangri-La Dongshan River Resort, wondering how a fragment of a Greek village had drifted so far to settle in Yilan.
The Capri breakfast tasted like a slow morning. The scent of dark coffee collided with that heavy March humidity that makes skin feel perpetually damp. I remember the butter melting into warm toast—a golden dissolve—while we argued in low voices about whether the fruit was too sweet.
"You look like a displaced duke from a failed revolution," someone cackled. I stood there in the heavy court dress, the stiff fabric pulling at my shoulders. We spent an hour mocking each other's posture in the palace photos, our laughter bouncing off the classical walls like a frequency that didn't belong.
We tried to be profound at the Water Church, speaking in hushed tones about silence. Then, someone tripped over a pebble. The sudden, sharp splash was the only honest thing in the room, a chaotic note that shattered the curated stillness and sent us all collapsing into giggles.
The seawater onsen had a rare quality, devoid of the sharp bleach smell of typical spas. The water felt heavy and salt-scented, wrapping around us like a warm blanket that refused to let go, even as the March wind rattled the window frames with an icy shiver.
Our room was a space of polished wood and wide angles, so large that my own cough echoed back to me. I remember the walk to the bathroom at 3 a.m., the tiles feeling cool and steady under my bare feet, the distance feeling miles longer in the velvet dark than by day.
We rented bicycles and pedaled toward the early Tung blossoms, the white petals appearing like static on a screen against the green hills. The air smelled of damp earth and wild lilies, a scent that made it feel as if the entire valley was stirring from a deep sleep.
I suppose home is a shared frequency—a reverb tail of inside jokes and mutual roasting that lingers in the hallways of Shangri-La Dongshan River Resort long after the suitcases are packed. We didn't "find ourselves," but we found a way to be quiet together.
One wet leaf clinging to the glass.
- You gotta try the seawater onsen; it's a total reset for the soul.
- Rent the court dresses for a photo, even if your friends roast you.