All of a sudden, everyone knows what Taipei 101 is, after Alex Honnold scaled Taiwan’s tallest building with no ropes and no fear, live on Netflix. We were in Taipei a month before this death-defying stunt, and when Victor mentioned that we would visit Taipei 101, I had no idea what he was talking about.
“First,” he said, “we’ll hike up a nearby mountain to look at Taipei 101, and then we’ll go up Taipei 101 to look at the surrounding mountains.”
I couldn’t find any logical fault in his plan, so off we went.
We started the day walking around the city and visiting a few temples, then slowly made our way toward the aptly named Elephant Mountain. Before anyone gets overly excited, I regret to report that there are no elephants living on that mountain, though its outline does resemble one. The hike was fairly pleasant, about 30 minutes up a well-maintained trail with long stretches of stairs. The view that opened up at the top was remarkable: the entire city laid out below us, skyscrapers in every direction, and in the middle of it all, a teal, bamboo-shaped tower dominating the skyline.
I am not easily impressed by high-rise buildings. I have seen plenty in metropolises around the world and remain partial to the skyline of my beloved Chicago. But this one is impressive. Too often, the tallest buildings in a city try to overwhelm their surroundings, showing off architectural ambition with little regard for context. I cannot count the number of times we have heard locals complain about a newly built, oddly shaped glass monstrosity sticking out like a sore thumb.
But Taipei 101 fits right in. Its muted blue-green glass blends into the sky and the surrounding green hills. Its form, eight stacked segments, resembles a bamboo stalk, forests of which grow around Taipei. Those familiar with Chinese symbolism will recognize the deliberate design choices. The building is divided into eight sections, and eight represents prosperity and good fortune. The four large circular ornaments on each face resemble ancient coins, symbols of wealth. The structure also incorporates Feng Shui principles, including dragon motifs and a fountain at the entrance intended to channel and retain positive energy.
I do not know much about Feng Shui. At home, I ward off evil spirits with an air freshener and arrange furniture according to the “how do I not bump into this in the dark” method. To me, a casual observer, the tower seemed balanced, naturally occupying its space, obvious without being overwhelming.
We lingered on the back of Elephant Mountain, taking in the skyline from multiple angles. After descending, we noticed an elderly man selling traditional shortbread pastries from a small street stand. He did not speak English, so we pointed at whatever looked promising, unsure of the fillings. With coffee from a nearby 7-Eleven in hand, we sat on a bench for a simple lunch. I still cannot identify every filling, though one was pineapple and another salted egg, and all of them were excellent.
Then it was time to go up Taipei 101. Stepping into the lobby felt like crossing an invisible threshold. Minutes earlier, we were sitting on a public bench with paper cups and homemade pastries, and now we were standing on marble floors, beneath polished stone, surrounded by luxury storefronts, all glitz and glamor. All around us were luxury international brands and high-fashion boutiques - Louis Vuitton, Chanel, Dior, Gucci, Prada, Rolex, as far as the eye could see. Not exactly my jam, but we weren’t there to shop.
After riding up an escalator, we suddenly found ourselves in Christmas Wonderland, with Christmas trees, large plastic trains, and a merry-go-round consisting of animated reindeer, and, for some unknown reason, winged horses and zebras. I say “suddenly” because Taiwan is a Buddhist country and doesn’t officially celebrate Christmas. But everyone loves a good photo opportunity and there were plenty of families posing their children in front of giant, beautifully wrapped presents and lavishly decorated Christmas trees. We have seen some Christmas decorations on the streets before this, my favorite being a “Happy Birthday, Jesus!” poster with hippy-looking Jesus displaying a heart symbol with his hands, in the window of a local fried chicken shop.
We took the elevator up to the 89th-floor observation deck. Again, this was before we watched Alex Honnold scale the side of this building all the way to the top, and so at that time, the elevator ride seemed really exciting. The observation deck was set up with more Christmasy and cute fairytale scenes for photo opportunities. But the real attraction was outside the windows. The city spread out in all directions, dense yet orderly, surrounded by forested hills, including Elephant Mountain. It’s always interesting to see the full layout of the city, especially after spending a few days traversing the neighborhoods and trying to spot all the familiar landmarks from above. It was now clear that Taipei sits in a geographic basin, a low, bowl-shaped area, with the city filling the flat center, and the mountain ridges forming a continuous rim around it.
As always, we planned our visit for late afternoon, so that we could see the city in the daylight, sunset, and after dark. Everyone clustered around the windows to catch the sunset, and we managed to squeeze in as well, in a small space on the floor. After the gorgeous sunset, the city became a grid of light, skyscrapers dotted with bright windows and traffic streaming below in steady ribbons of red and white.
“You see that cluster of lights right over there?” Victor asked, pointing into the darkness. “That’s a night market where we are going to eat our dinner.”
And just like that, I was ready to go down, back into the streets. As great as the view from Taipei 101 is, Taipei has to be examined on street level, where the air is thick with the smell of scallion pancakes and grilled squid, with scooters weaving past neon-lit convenience stores, and temple incense drifting into traffic.
