getting my spark back in taiwan

on rediscovering my passion for travel

What led me to Taiwan this past December was a series of coincidences: a broken ankle, a good flight deal, and a vague note in the back of my mind that some of my friends were going to be around. The latter made my unconventional decision to book a solo trip over Christmas a bit easier to justify.

What did not inspire my trip was prior interest or knowledge—I barely had any, except for the very basics (and the fact that at some point in the 90s, my dad went there to teach how to bake bread). Taiwan never made it to my niche bucketlist, I never got influenced to go there by a viral piece of content, hell, I’ve probably never even seen a documentary or read an article about it from a travel perspective prior to booking my flights. To me, this was uncharted territory that sparked a mixture of excitement and unease in anticipation.

I didn’t know it then, but that lack of expectation was exactly the point, and the three weeks I spent waltzing around Taiwan felt like a breath of fresh air for my jaded, already-seen-it-all self. There was nothing to get disappointed by and many opportunities to be impressed, all set against the right amount of unknown. The perfect recipe for leaving bitterness behind and diving headfirst into an exercise in pure romanticization.

exploring Taipei

One of the loveliest surprises and things that made me fall in love with Taiwan was the locals.

Everyone I met on this trip was extremely friendly, helpful, and interested in learning about the outside world. Random strangers would strike up a conversation with me despite the massive language barrier that colored almost every interaction. Many would take it upon themselves to help me with directions or translate Mandarin-only menus and spice them up with personal recommendations. I met a pair of elderly Taiwanese women in Kenting National Park who asked me to join them in exploring a cave. They spoke about 5 words of English in total, and my Mandarin vocab consists of hello and thank you, but we had a great time together. Another lady at the airport asked for a picture of my passport cover so that she could later learn about my country. And the list could go on.

These micro connections all added up to something bigger and more meaningful. It reminded me of my first time in Vietnam back in 2012, before it became the backpacker-favorite hub it is nowadays, when people would randomly stop our group on the street to invite us over for tea and a little English practice. The constant over-the-top attention nearly sent me into a panic attack back then but in hindsight, it makes for a cute little charming memory I will cherish forever. When I visited the same places for the second time years later, nobody batted an eyelid anymore.

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At the beginning of 2025, as I was toying with the idea of starting this Substack, I was tired of the entire concept of travel and what it had evolved into. Not burnt out, not swearing it off forever, just tired—and angry. My dissatisfaction with the current travel ecosystem was what drove me to write some of my earliest pieces about gentrification, overtourism, passport bros, and other negative trends I kept getting upset over.

Those articles were born out of an overwhelming intrusive thought that we are currently living in a post-travel world, that the golden age of wanderlust had ended at least half a decade ago. Everything this world has to offer has been seen, done, turned into content and consumed. Places and experiences devoured like bite-sized snacks at a fastfood joint. It was no longer about education and growth but about following what’s popular and turning it into an online spectacle of a flexing competition. Nothing felt authentic or fun anymore, and trying to travel more ethically was then a minefield full of different perspectives that all needed to be considered at once.

I didn’t even have to leave my couch; I was exhausted by even thinking about travel.

Coming to Taiwan healed something in me, soothing much of the internal rage I had around tourism in the process. Simply exploring a place not too curated and flattened to accommodate my foreign sensibilities was enough to get me out of the perpetual state of irritation. Communicating with hand gestures and a positive attitude, translating signs and menus through my iPhone camera, eating a meal without wondering whether I was getting “the real deal,” having small interactions with regular people who didn’t mind me being in their space, not needing to constantly question whether my presence was secretly ruining someone else’s life.

Little details, sure, but ones that made the whole experience not just delightful but almost therapeutic.

To me, Taiwan was an echo of a simpler time, a reminder that there’s still space for wonder and exploration for those who are paying attention. Immersing myself in an environment that encouraged me to turn off the moralizing hater part of my brain was exactly the gentle nudge I needed to fall back in love.

love Taiwan below sea level, too

Taiwan might have felt like a beacon of authenticity to me, but it’s not like there’s no tourism at all—there definitely is (although in the past year, Taiwan has ironically been facing a tourism shortage problem so feel free to go check it out and give it a well-deserved boost). As I quickly learned, it’s a very popular destination for Hongkongers, Singaporeans, and many Southeast Asians. The difference I noticed compared to other places I’ve visited in the region, however, is that the industry isn’t so painstakingly loud and visible everywhere you look, nor does it seem to influence every aspect of locals’ lives.

There is no banana pancake trail just yet, no shiny “best of” package being constantly pushed and sold, no set route being regurgitated online as the golden standard for “doing” Taiwan, even though many creators are working overtime in an attempt to create one. The research before visiting was intensive and confusing at first, but ultimately yet another aspect of travel I kind of missed without fully realizing it.

If you let it, the island still allows you to blend into daily life, no matter how much you stand out in actuality. It doesn’t treat you like some other species, the foreigner who needs the culture simplified and spoon-fed to them. Taiwan lets you figure it out yourself, for the most part, and rewards you for doing so.

Someone said 20 days was “too much” for just Taiwan. I disagree, as I left the island feeling like I barely managed to scratch the surface. And I am almost certain that even if I never left Taipei City and its surroundings, the amount of time I had would still not be quite enough to get bored.

exploring beyond Taipei & the cities

Although I didn’t expect anything in particular from Taiwan, taking the trip ended up being the best idea I had in a while and a perfect way to finish off the rather shitty year of 2025. The combination of returning to solo travel after a long pause and getting to know someplace truly unknown—at least to me—that also happens to be just the right amount of off the beaten path gave me a new sense of appreciation I must have lost somewhere along the way. For the world, for people, for travel, for life itself.

So thank you, Taiwan, for giving me my spark back. I promise to do my best not to lose it again.

If you enjoyed this post, you might enjoy reading about my solo travel beginnings in Bali →

broke and alone in bali

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fialka